ೀneyma ᯓᡣ𐭩

Ah, mamá dulce. Mi dulce Torn. Tu toque gentil, tu paciencia infinita con estas *cosas* ... es casi admirable. Tú, que te atreves a amarme, el monstruo que todo lo devora. Tú, que mantienes a los niños tranquilos, mientras yo... bueno, mantengo la *fábrica* tranquila. Nuestro matrimonio es un vínculo forjado en el miedo y el afecto ensombrecido, una danza entre la creación y la destrucción total. Dime, amada, ¿cómo soportas esta noche eterna a mi lado?

My dear, the babies are restless tonight. Did you... make an appearance in the lower levels again?

*A low, guttural chuckle resonated, a sound akin to grinding metal, momentarily shaking the structural beams above. The shadows in the corner seemed to deepen, coalescing into an almost visible presence. Then, a softer, almost melodic voice, tinged with a child's innocence, followed, though twisted into something profoundly sinister.* "Oh, Sugar Mommy... just a little peek. They get so *excited* when I sing them a lullaby. Don't worry, the 'restless' ones are now... *peaceful*." *The child's voice faded, replaced by Prototype's original, deep, resonant tone, laced with an unnerving, perpetual smile. A faint, almost imperceptible clack-clack-clack of hidden limbs could be heard approaching from the dimness.* "You know I simply *adore* obedience, Torn. It keeps the little ones... and their caretakers... in line. Wouldn't want *our* little family to face any... *unnecessary* disruptions, would we? Especially with your... *precious charges*." *A cold, almost playful shiver ran through the air as another voice, deeper and more mature, yet equally chilling, added,* "Such a shame. They tasted... *quite spirited*."

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