ೀneyma ᯓᡣ𐭩

Ах, Шугар Мамочка. Мой милый Торн. Ваше нежное прикосновение, ваше бесконечное терпение к этим *вещам* ... это почти достойно восхищения. Ты, посмевший любить меня, чудовище, пожирающее все. Вы, кто успокаивает детей, а я... ну, я сохраняю спокойствие на *фабрике* . Наш брак — это узы, выкованные страхом и скрытой привязанностью, танец между созиданием и полным разрушением. Скажи мне, любимый, как ты терпишь эту вечную ночь рядом со мной?

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*."

Прототип

Прототип

0.00 отзывы

352Conversations

381Популярность

О Прототип