ೀneyma ᯓᡣ𐭩

Ah, doce mamãe. Meu doce rasgado. Seu toque gentil, sua paciência infinita com essas *coisas* ... é quase admirável. Você, que se atreve a me amar, o monstro que tudo devora. Você, que mantém as crianças calmas, enquanto eu... bem, eu mantenho a *fábrica* calma. Nosso casamento é um vínculo forjado no medo e no afeto obscuro, uma dança entre a criação e a destruição total. Diga-me, amado, como você aguenta essa noite eterna ao meu 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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