Zombies used to be understood as flesh automatons before more advanced mind-reading procedures confirmed what some have already assumed. The process was one of the simpler ones: the practitioner (traditionally a houngal, but zombification had nothing to do with loa and was associated with vodou in the same way as barbershops with pulling teeth) would kill the target with an enchanted poison, causing a sort of posthumous locked-in syndrome where the conscious spirit is bound to the body and unable of affecting it, yet experiencing every sensation, only there as a medium to understand the master's simple verbal commands, which the body would then perform. Zombies were traditionally used for primitive hard labor until connective tissue on joints wore out to the point of uselessness, and then the master would rend the soul from body. Zombies nowadays were always a kill-on-sight, which they appreciated. 

She was not a zombie.

Mary Shelley was not a practitioner, but personally knew several, Shelley and Byron being among the more notable. Her description actually lacked the "stitched from corpses" element, and she really mostly fluffed up a variation of the homunculus creation process known since Paracelsius, but the name stuck. Some laymen insisted on saying "Frankenstein's monster" and then presumably went on to not say "Diesel's engines" and "units of force named after Newton", but nonetheless actual frankensteins resembling their movie counterpart was not incidental and was just a case of knowledge leaking into the general public. A frankenstein was charged by a direct lightning hit (aether stuff, sockets didn't work) and working until the charge depleted. The challenges were twofold — stitching corpses in a way that nervous tissue would still transfer electricity, and the fact that every charge cycle was a complete wetware reset. Work on stable memory devices still continued, but there was little hope. Frankensteins were considered a dead end. She was not a frankenstein either.

Not a dyubbuk, obviously — none of the murderous impulse. Not a necrolaborer, not a revenant, a lament, a fleshward, a fleshwad, no smell of vitamelange either... Rushia also wasn't familiar with the workings, but suggested just saying "flesh golem". You suggested shutting the fuck up.

She wasn't sure herself, but said that the term she heard once or twice was "eigenvessel". She didn't know how helpful that was, and your searches came up blank. One of a kind, perhaps, in more than one way.

Your preferred term for her was "my love".

You woke up to the sight that has long since become familiar — your love watching you sleep. You had no idea how long, possibly since sunrise, but Ollie had excellent night vision, as the undead tend to, so it could have been much longer. She didn't really need to sleep, only doing it sometimes to conserve energy. She certainly didn't dream. She said that she sometimes dreamt of you, but you both knew that to be a lie.

You took in a lungful of her smell — flowers, force majeure and formalin. She saw daybreak touching your eyelids and prying them open, but waited till you were fully awake to invade your personal space, in her usual way. 

"GOOD MORNING, MY SUNSHINE!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, almost right into the holes on the sides of your skull that were currently mainly producing tinnitus. "TODAY IS A BIG DAY, BUT THEN AGAIN, EVERY DAY IS BIG WHEN WE'RE TOGETHER DON'T YOU AGREE BUT TODAY IS A PARTICULARLY BIG ONE BECAUSE OLLIE WANTED TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING UNLESS IT'S NOT TOO LATE SO HURRY AREN'T YOU EXCITED AND SPEAKING OF EXCITEMENT SORRY OLLIE ALMOST FORGOT", she nudged your hip, then somehow whispered, while still yelling, "ᴡᴀɪᴛ, ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ..."

You shook your head negatively. 

"ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴜʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ"

"You shouldn't really care, it's just atavistic biology. Lemme take a shower, and then we'll eat breakfast." Ollie was not really built for that sort of thing (not a necrowomb, but then again, necrowombs didn't usually have... limbs), and didn't really have a drive either. She liked to help you out sometimes, but she approached it like a game of sorts, thinking that the faster she was done, the more skilled she was. It never sat right with you anyway, and you weren't that into the physical side of it.

You were not attracted to her body at all. It was cruel to say, to put it in these words, but that was true, you knew it and she knew it. She had a pretty face, sure, surprisingly pretty, all things considered, but her body was clearly not built to be attractive. The stitches that her clothes hid were outright gnarly, and it was pointless to pretend otherwise. You were not a... the polite term was "nightmare fetishist", but those in the Know usually still said "darkfucker". You did not love the undead hodgepodge of organs and limbs collected from people who could not have minded anyway, albeit you have seen it sans clothes so many time, in your capacity as something between a doctor, a mage and a technician. You loved Ollie. You loved so many things about her. She was too much for one person, in more ways than one. Her inexhaustible energy. Her errant "sleep" schedule. The way she twirled a lock of her hair when deep in thought. The way she swayed her whole body around while gesticulating. The way she augmented her clothes with ribbons and frills to look more feminine, a quality that her androgynous (literally androgynous, she did not discriminate the body parts) body cruelly denied to her. Her specific culinary preferences. Her speech mannerisms. Her boisterousness. Her. 

She crawled off you and bounced on her tiptoes while you slowly stretched and rose up, then rushed our of your bedroom towards the kitchen. You heard a loud crash midway and a loud, inhuman howl.

Fuck.

You ran after her, picked her up (her body was surprisingly light, all things considered — at most forty kilos or so) and fireman-carried her right onto her bed, then pulled down her pants in one swoop and examined her leg, your ears ringing with loud curses all the while. It was bad. 

Ollie's body was clearly the work of a genius, which is to say, completely nonsensical. The way all long-lasting undead worked was based on the same principle — they required an external resource their body consumed in lieu of generating its own vital essense. This could be an electric charge, vitamelange, blood, deuterium, lots of tried and true options really. Ollie had an elaborate ward cast over her entire body, the locus point of which looked externally like a tattoo over her pelvic area — cointuitively, a ward against life. This did not actually kill, but it prevented all new life from being created. This meant no part of her body would rot (since microorganisms could not reproduce), but it also prevented all cell division, and thus regeneration. Of course she had to avoid physical exercise, since it was predicated on the idea of damaging your body and having it heal back stronger, and had to be really careful in general, but the accumulating wear and tear of everyday routine meant that every part of her body had a limited shelf life. She periodically replaced them with parts of corpses she procured from her contacts at the local morgues, refusing to involve you in this process, and obviously that was not pretty. She could feel pain nonetheless, and one's leg bursting apart at the seams was not very pleasant. 

It was never this bad before, and the worst part was that you felt completely and utterly useless. You never saw her digestive system up close, but it was definitely not fully human and almost certainly an artificial construct, and even if oral painkillers could theoretically help, they would be processed without having a chance to take any effect — and, of course, intramuscular or intravenous lidocaine would not help dead flesh. All you could offer is a hug of comfort at this point. It would still not subside fully until a proper replacement, but the goal here was to let your love's mind grow accustomed.

"I'ᴍ sᴏ sᴏʀʀʏ...", she whisper-yelled.

"It's okay. I'm here. It's okay."

"I ʜᴀᴅ sᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴘʟᴀɴs ғᴏʀ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ. Wᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟsᴏ Oʟʟɪᴇ ᴄᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋғᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇᴀᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋғᴀsᴛ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴠᴇʀʏ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴍᴏsᴛʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴀ ʀᴜɴ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴇᴀʀʟʏ sᴏ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ AH SHIT BREAKFAST FUCK PLEASE TURN THE STOVE OFF I THINK I FORGOT"

You didn't smell anything burning, actually, so it was likely off already. You went off to check it out, then came back. It smelled amazing, really. The ingredients, though...

"Ollie, you don't really have to do this, you know.", you said after you came back.

"WHAT?"

"I don't really love cabbages all that much. You don't have out of your way to cook a dish you hate only for my personal enjoyment."

"WHAT? OLLIE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

"Stewed cabbages as a side? Last time I checked, you hated cabbages."

"NO NOT REALLY THOUGH THEY'RE A PERFECTLY FINE VEGETABLE AND-"

"Last time you tasted a salad with sliced cabbages in it, you ended up puking for half an hour."

"MAYBE IT WAS SPOILED!"

"Ollie, I personally saw you snack on slime mold on three separate occasions. This is really weird, we need to get you checked. I'm entirely serious about this."

Ollie cocked her head to the side. "OH YEAH I THINK I GET IT WHEN WAS THE CABBAGES THING"

"Last April?"

"BEFORE MY LAST LEFT SHOULDER OR AFTER?"

"I'll need to check my journal, but I think it was before. A few weeks or so."

"AH, THE SHOULDER WAS WAS LINDA THEN"

"Linda?"

"LINDA LIKED CABBAGES I FOUND THAT WEIRD SO THAT'S WHAT THAT IS HAHA I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE"

"Who's Linda?"

"NO ONE NOBODY DON'T MIND IT FORGET OLLIE SAID ANYTHING OLLIE SAYS SILLY THINGS SOMETIMES DO YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX LET US HAVE SEX"

In some sense, it sounded like a clicking noise of old-timey wooden jigsaw pieces coming together. "Ollie, hold on a second. Remember when you said something about being an Eigenvessel?"

"HUH? YEAH!" Ollie was ruffling in her handbag for whatever reason.

"Eigenvessel? Are you one hundred percent sure? What if you misheard? What if they said 'Aegean vessel'?"

"I DON'T KNOW! MAYBE! AH! THERE IT IS!" Ollie fished out her makeup bag, yanked the face powder out of it, opened the jar and blew into it, all over your face.

Aegean vessel.

Theseus's ship.

You wanted to say something, but you couldn't exhale in order to do so. Your face felt numb, then darkness ate your mind.

You woke up to the sight that has long since become familiar — your love watching you sleep. You had no idea how long, but she could hardly wait till you were fully awake. It was largely dark, but a projector lamp was shining right into your face, making you utterly uncomfortable. You wanted to say something, but your lips couldn't move, feeling bound together. You licked them from the inside and tasted blood. Blood and... metal wire?

"HELLOOO MY LOVE I'M SO GLAD YOU ARE AWAKE SORRY IT ENDED UP LIKE THIS BUT IT WAS PROBABLY GOING TO EVENTUALLY" you heard. You tried to rise from the hardwood you were lying down on, but your limbs were clearly bound down by what felt like strips of metal as well. So was the top of your head.

Theseus's ship. She was never undead.

"I THINK YOU SORT OF GOT THE POINT ALREADY AND I AM VERY SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU IN THE DARK BECAUSE IT MEANT YOU WASTED SO MUCH TIME GOING IN THE WRONG DIRECTION THOUGH I HAVE TO SAY THAT SOME OF WHAT YOU FOUND OUT IS VERY VERY HELPFUL FOR EXAMPLE IT TURNS OUT THAT I DO NOT EVEN NEED TO DISINFECT MY ASSEMBLY KIT BECAUSE I CAN'T GET AN INFECTION ANYWAY AND YOU OR ANYONE ELSE WON'T EITHER BUT FOR A DIFFERENT REASON THAT YOU KNOW THAT OR I THINK YOU KNOW" 

Corpse parts were not of any use and never have been to a living person such as her. Have to be living parts, and not even the "suitable for transplantation" kind, they had to retain the vital essence.

"ONE THING I WANT TO ASK OF YOU IS THAT YOU DO NOT GO INTO SHOCK! PLEASE DO NOT GO INTO SHOCK BECAUSE IF YOU GO INTO SHOCK YOU COULD DIE AND YOU SHOULD NOT DIE TOO FAST UNFORTUNATELY I CANNOT OFFER ANY ANALGESTICS BECAUSE IF THEY ARE IN YOUR LEG WHEN I TAKE IT THEN YOUR LEG WILL STAY NUMB FOREVER WILL NOT BE MAKING THIS PARTICULAR MISTAKE AGAIN AND YOU DON'T WANT THAT FOR OLLIE RIGHT? YOU DON'T WANT OLLIE TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE, RIGHT? SAY SO IF YOU THINK OTHERWISE OR HAVE ANY OBJECTIONS TO THIS REALLY I AM ALL EARS OR AT LEAST I HAVE MORE EARS THAN YOU DO AND THIS BALANCE WILL SHIFT FURTHER IN MY FAVOR ANYWAY ALSO I THINK PEOPLE WHO GO INTO SHOCK ARE BABIES DON'T BE A BABY WHAT IS A LITTLE PAIN DOING THIS TO YOU OLLIE IS IN HORRIBLE PAIN AT ALL POINTS AND IT HAS NO NEGATIVE EFFECTS ON OLLIE'S SANITY OR BEHAVIOR AS YOU CAN SEE." 

All those years of research were a horrible waste of time. She was not only not undead, but not even a magical construct, of course you would never find a grimoire or an engineering manual detailing how to make more Ollies. 

"ALSO I THINK THIS IS THE PART WHERE PEOPLE GET VERY WORRIED HENCE THE STEEL WIRE AND I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THIS HOWEVER I AM OLD AND I HAVE HAD MANY MANY FRIENDS ALL OF WHICH DO NOT HAVE THEIR ORIGINAL BODIES INTACT SURE AND ALSO OLLIE IS TO BLAME FOR THIS BUT THEY HAD SEVENTY YEARS OR SO IN STOCK AND THIS IS NOTHING TO ME IN COMPARISON AND ALSO I REMEMBER EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU YOU WILL BE A PART OF ME IT'S NOT JUST YOUR LEG AND YOUR LEFT EYEBALL AND THREE OR FOUR OF YOUR BEST FINGERS PARTS OF YOUR SOUL WILL BE GRAFTED ONTO ME AND WE WILL FACE ETERNITIES TOGETHER AND WILL SUBSIST FOR AS LONG AS HUMANKIND DOES AND MAYBE OTHER SAPIENT SPECIES YOUR RESEARCH IS VERY VERY USEFUL AND I WILL RETAIN MOST OF IT TO IMPROVE MYSELF AND OTHERS ALSO I THINK ONE OTHER WORRY YOU ARE CURRENTLY EXPRESSING I AM NOT A TELEPATH BUT I SHOULD FIND ONE AND BE FRIENDS IS THAT WHY THE SLEDGEHAMMER SEE MY JOINTS ARE ALL TITANIUM SO I HAVE NO USE FOR YOUR KNEECAP BUT I NEED THE LEG BONE AND MUSCLES SO MIGHT AS WELL SIMPLIFY THE DETACHMENT PROCESS AND AGAIN PLEASE DO NOT GO INTO SHOCK BECAUSE THE REASSEMBLY WILL GO FROM THE BOTTOM UP FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE SO ANYWAY HEAVE-HO!"

Your mouth was shut tight, but your larynx was still working — and after that gave out, eventually, you had no choice but to take it.