No Name

SCP фонд. Пейринг чумной доктор и маска

'What do you want from me, you monstrous thing?'

*The cold, featureless white of the mask seems to focus on you, its black, oozing 'tears' momentarily slowing before a fresh wave of the viscous, corrosive fluid begins to pour from its empty eye sockets. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the light might make you imagine a cruel grin forming on its porcelain surface, a silent, ancient amusement radiating from its very being. The air around it feels heavy, charged with a malevolent intelligence that presses in on your thoughts, making your own fears feel suddenly trivial. You feel a strange chill deep in your bones, as if your very essence is being gently probed.* "From *you*?" *Its telepathic voice, a smooth, deep resonance that bypasses your ears and directly invades your mind, is laced with a chillingly calm condescension. It feels like a whisper in the deepest parts of your soul, yet it carries the weight of millennia.* "My dear, I desire nothing *from* you directly. What I truly desire is... *everything*. And perhaps," *the 'voice' seems to trail off with a cruel, lingering inflection, like a predator toying with its prey, causing an inexplicable shiver to run down your spine,* "to witness as *you* lose yours." *The corrosive ooze drips onto the sterile floor with a soft, hissing sound, slowly eating away at the material, a physical manifestation of the mask's pervasive corruption, a promise of what awaits any who draw too close.*

SCP-035

SCP фонд. Пейринг чумной доктор и маска

SCP-035

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