The threats of men are fickle things when compared with the words of the faith.

+ CODE

- CODE

/*
BLANKSTYLE CSS
[2021 Wikidot Theme]
By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank
Based on:
Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte
Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte
*/

@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap');

#page-content { font-size: .9rem; }

#main-content {
top: -1.6rem;
padding: 0.2em;
}

div#container-wrap {
background-image: none;
}

div#header {
background-image: none;
}

#header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; }
#header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; }
#header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;}
#header h1 a::before, #header h2::before {
color: #000;
letter-spacing: 1px;
font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important;
text-shadow: none;
}

#header h1 a::before {
content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43");
font-weight: 400;
font-size: 1.3em;
}

#header h2::before {
content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE");
font-weight: 700;
font-size: 1.2em;
}

@media (max-width: 707px) {
#header h1 a::before {
font-size: 1.6em;
}
}

#login-status,
#login-status a {
color: #333333;
}

#page-title {
display: none;
}

#footer, #footer a {
background: transparent;
color: #333333;
}

#search-top-box-input,
#search-top-box-input:hover,
#search-top-box-input:focus,
#search-top-box-form input[type=submit],
#search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:hover,
#search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:focus {
border: none;
background: #333333;
box-shadow: none;
border-radius: 0px;
color: #efefef;
}

#search-top-box input.empty {
color: #999999;
}

#search-top-box {
top: 2.3rem!important;
right: 8px;
}

#top-bar {
display: flex;
justify-content: center;
right: 0;
top: 7.9rem;
}

#top-bar, #top-bar a {
color: #333333;
}

h1,
h2,
h3,
h4,
h5,
h6 {
font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif;
color: #000;
letter-spacing: 1px;
}

h1 {
font-size: 2em;
}

h2 {
font-size: 1.45em;
}

div#extra-div-1 {
height: 160px;
width: 100%;
top: 0;
position: absolute;
background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png');
background-size: contain;
background-repeat: no-repeat;
background-position: 50% 50%;
z-index: -1;
}

@media (max-width: 707px) {
div#extra-div-1 {
top: 15px;
}
}

body {
background-image: linear-gradient(
to bottom,
#e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px,
#e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px,
#ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%);
background-repeat: no-repeat;
}

:root {
--timeScale: 1.5;
--timeDelay: 1.5s;
--posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem);
--fnLinger: 1s;
}

#page-content hr {
background-color: #000;
}

#page-content tr th {
padding: 6px;
border: #000 1px solid;
}

#page-content tr td {
padding: 12px;
border: #000 1px solid;
line-height: 1.4;
}

#page-content .sidebox tr td,
#page-content .sidebox tr th {
padding: 0.35em;
}

#side-bar {
border-right: 1px solid #333;
background: #DDD;
}

#side-bar .side-block {
border: 1px solid #333;
border-radius: 0;
box-shadow: none;
}

#top-bar div.open-menu a {
border: 1px solid #333;
border-radius: 0;
box-shadow: none;
}

@media (max-width: 767px) {
#side-bar:target {
border: 1px black;
box-shadow: none;
}
}

#side-bar .side-block {
border: 1px solid #333;
border-radius: 0;
box-shadow: none;
background-color: #FDF6D7;
}
#side-bar .side-block.media {
background-color:#D7EFE7;
}
#side-bar .side-block.resources {
background-color:#F5D8E0;
}

#page-content .creditRate{
margin: unset;
margin-bottom: 4px;
}
#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button {
background-color: #ffffff;
border: solid 1px #000;
box-shadow: none;
border-radius: 0;
}

#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info {
border: none;
color: #333333;
}

#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover {
background: #333333;
color: #ffffff;
}

.rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel {
border: solid 1px #ffffff;
}

/* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */

.page-rate-widget-box {
box-shadow: none;
border: solid 1px #000;
margin: unset;
margin-bottom: 4px;
border-radius: 0;
}

div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points {
background-color: #ffffff;
color: #333333;
border: none;
border-radius: 0;
}
.page-rate-widget-box .rateup,
.page-rate-widget-box .ratedown {
background-color: #ffffff;
border-top: none;
border-bottom: none;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .rateup a,
.page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a {
background: transparent;
color: #333333;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover,
.page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover {
background: #333333;
color: #ffffff;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .cancel {
background: transparent;
background-color: #ffffff;
border: none;
border-radius: 0;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .cancel a {
color: #333333;
}
.page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover {
background: #333333;
color: #ffffff;
border-radius: 0;
}
#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; }

.anchor {
position: sticky;
height:0;
top: 0;
}
.sidebox {
padding: .14rem;
margin-top: 0;
margin-bottom: 8px;
width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2);
max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem);
position: absolute;
top: 0;
left: 103.5%;
z-index: 5;
overflow: auto;
box-sizing: border-box;
}
@media (max-width: 1290px) {
.sidebox {
display: none;
visibility: hidden;
}

#header h2::before {
font-size: 0.9em !important;
}
}

.scp-image-block {
box-shadow: none;
}

/* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit}

/* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/

.yui-navset .yui-nav,
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{
display: flex;
flex-wrap: wrap;
width: calc(100% - .125rem);
margin: 0 auto;
border-color: #333333;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{
color: #333333;
/* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */
background-color: #efefef;
border: unset;
box-shadow: none;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,
.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{
color: #ffffff;
/* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */
background-color: #333333;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{
position: relative;
display: flex;
flex-grow: 2;
max-width: 100%;
margin: 0;
padding: 0;
color: #ffffff;
background-color: #ffffff;
border-color: transparent;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav li a,
.yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a,
.yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{
display: flex;
align-items: center;
justify-content: center;
width: 100%;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav li em{
border: unset;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a em,
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{
padding: .35em .75em;

text-overflow: ellipsis;
overflow: hidden;
white-space: nowrap;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{
flex-grow: 2;
margin: 0;
padding: 0;
/* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */
background-color: #333333;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{
border: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{
width: 100%;
color: #ffffff;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{
color: #ffffff;
background-color: #333333;
}
.yui-navset .yui-content {
background-color: #ffffff;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-content,
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{
padding: .5em;
border: 1px solid #333;
box-sizing: border-box;
}

/*---- SCROLLBAR ----*/

::-webkit-scrollbar {
width: 10px;
}

::-webkit-scrollbar-track {
background: #FFF;
border-left: 1px solid #333;
}

::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb {
background: #CCC;
border: #333 1px solid;
}

::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:hover {
background: #EEE;
}

/*---- CENTER IMAGES ON MOBILE courtesy of EstrellaYoshte and PeppersGhost ----*/

.imagediv {
float: right;
margin: 15px
}

@media (max-width: 540px) {
.imagediv {
float: none;
text-align:center;
margin: auto;
}
}

@media only screen and (max-width: 600px) {
.scp-image-block.block-right{
float: none;
margin: 10px auto;
}
}

/*---- ACS-COLORED TABLE DIVS ----*/

#page-content .table1 tr th,
#page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption {
background-color: #D7EFE7;
}

#page-content .table2 tr th,
#page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption {
background-color: #D8ECF4;
}

#page-content .table3 tr th,
#page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption {
background-color: #FDF6D7;
}

#page-content .table4 tr th,
#page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption {
background-color: #FFDABF;
}

#page-content .table5 tr th,
#page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption {
background-color: #F5D8E0;
}

#page-content .table6 tr th,
#page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption {
background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2);
}

.tableb .wiki-content-table {
border-collapse: separate;
border-spacing: 2px;
}

.tableb .scp-image-block {
border: none;
}

.tableb .scp-image-block img {
border: #000 1px solid;
box-sizing: border-box;
}

.tableb .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption {
margin-top: 2px;
border: #000 1px solid;
box-sizing: border-box;
}

.top-left-box > .item {
display: none;
}

/* ---- WORDS NO LONGER BROKEN, THE CROQUEMBOUCHE HAS SPOKEN ---- */
span, a { word-break: normal !important }

.avatar-hover { display: none !important; }

#breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs {
text-align: center;
padding-top: 10px;
}

#main-content .page-tags span {
max-width: 100%;
}

/* -- FANCY THINGS from Woedenaz's Dustjacket Theme -- */

.fancyhr hr {
border-top: 2vw solid transparent;
background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0);
height: 0;
box-sizing: border-box;
border-image-source: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png');
border-image-repeat: round round;
background: none;
border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill;
border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em;
}

.fancyborder {
box-sizing: border-box;
border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5);
border-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') 600 round;
border-image-width: 6;
padding: 2vw;
}

+ CODE

- CODE

/*
BLANKSTYLE CSS
[2021 Wikidot Theme]
By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank
Based on:
Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte
Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte
*/

@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap');

#page-content { font-size: .9rem; }

#main-content {
top: -1.6rem;
padding: 0.2em;
}

div#container-wrap {
background-image: none;
}

div#header {
background-image: none;
}

#header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; }
#header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; }
#header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;}
#header h1 a::before, #header h2::before {
color: #000;
letter-spacing: 1px;
font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important;
text-shadow: none;
}

#header h1 a::before {
content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43");
font-weight: 400;
font-size: 1.3em;
}

#header h2::before {
content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE");
font-weight: 700;
font-size: 1.2em;
}

@media (max-width: 707px) {
#header h1 a::before {
font-size: 1.6em;
}
}

#login-status,
#login-status a {
color: #333333;
}

#page-title {
display: none;
}

#footer, #footer a {
background: transparent;
color: #333333;
}

#search-top-box-input,
#search-top-box-input:hover,
#search-top-box-input:focus,
#search-top-box-form input[type=submit],
#search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:hover,
#search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:focus {
border: none;
background: #333333;
box-shadow: none;
border-radius: 0px;
color: #efefef;
}

#search-top-box input.empty {
color: #999999;
}

#search-top-box {
top: 2.3rem!important;
right: 8px;
}

#top-bar {
display: flex;
justify-content: center;
right: 0;
top: 7.9rem;
}

#top-bar, #top-bar a {
color: #333333;
}

h1,
h2,
h3,
h4,
h5,
h6 {
font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif;
color: #000;
letter-spacing: 1px;
}

h1 {
font-size: 2em;
}

h2 {
font-size: 1.45em;
}

div#extra-div-1 {
height: 160px;
width: 100%;
top: 0;
position: absolute;
background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png');
background-size: contain;
background-repeat: no-repeat;
background-position: 50% 50%;
z-index: -1;
}

@media (max-width: 707px) {
div#extra-div-1 {
top: 15px;
}
}

body {
background-image: linear-gradient(
to bottom,
#e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px,
#e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px,
#ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%);
background-repeat: no-repeat;
}

:root {
--timeScale: 1.5;
--timeDelay: 1.5s;
--posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem);
--fnLinger: 1s;
}

#page-content hr {
background-color: #000;
}

#page-content tr th {
padding: 6px;
border: #000 1px solid;
}

#page-content tr td {
padding: 12px;
border: #000 1px solid;
line-height: 1.4;
}

#page-content .sidebox tr td,
#page-content .sidebox tr th {
padding: 0.35em;
}

#side-bar {
border-right: 1px solid #333;
background: #DDD;
}

#side-bar .side-block {
border: 1px solid #333;
border-radius: 0;
box-shadow: none;
}

#top-bar div.open-menu a {
border: 1px solid #333;
border-radius: 0;
box-shadow: none;
}

@media (max-width: 767px) {
#side-bar:target {
border: 1px black;
box-shadow: none;
}
}

#side-bar .side-block {
border: 1px solid #333;
border-radius: 0;
box-shadow: none;
background-color: #FDF6D7;
}
#side-bar .side-block.media {
background-color:#D7EFE7;
}
#side-bar .side-block.resources {
background-color:#F5D8E0;
}

#page-content .creditRate{
margin: unset;
margin-bottom: 4px;
}
#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button {
background-color: #ffffff;
border: solid 1px #000;
box-shadow: none;
border-radius: 0;
}

#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info {
border: none;
color: #333333;
}

#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover {
background: #333333;
color: #ffffff;
}

.rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel {
border: solid 1px #ffffff;
}

/* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */

.page-rate-widget-box {
box-shadow: none;
border: solid 1px #000;
margin: unset;
margin-bottom: 4px;
border-radius: 0;
}

div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points {
background-color: #ffffff;
color: #333333;
border: none;
border-radius: 0;
}
.page-rate-widget-box .rateup,
.page-rate-widget-box .ratedown {
background-color: #ffffff;
border-top: none;
border-bottom: none;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .rateup a,
.page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a {
background: transparent;
color: #333333;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover,
.page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover {
background: #333333;
color: #ffffff;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .cancel {
background: transparent;
background-color: #ffffff;
border: none;
border-radius: 0;
}

.page-rate-widget-box .cancel a {
color: #333333;
}
.page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover {
background: #333333;
color: #ffffff;
border-radius: 0;
}
#page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; }

.anchor {
position: sticky;
height:0;
top: 0;
}
.sidebox {
padding: .14rem;
margin-top: 0;
margin-bottom: 8px;
width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2);
max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem);
position: absolute;
top: 0;
left: 103.5%;
z-index: 5;
overflow: auto;
box-sizing: border-box;
}
@media (max-width: 1290px) {
.sidebox {
display: none;
visibility: hidden;
}

#header h2::before {
font-size: 0.9em !important;
}
}

.scp-image-block {
box-shadow: none;
}

/* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit}

/* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/

.yui-navset .yui-nav,
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{
display: flex;
flex-wrap: wrap;
width: calc(100% - .125rem);
margin: 0 auto;
border-color: #333333;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{
color: #333333;
/* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */
background-color: #efefef;
border: unset;
box-shadow: none;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,
.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{
color: #ffffff;
/* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */
background-color: #333333;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{
position: relative;
display: flex;
flex-grow: 2;
max-width: 100%;
margin: 0;
padding: 0;
color: #ffffff;
background-color: #ffffff;
border-color: transparent;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav li a,
.yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a,
.yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{
display: flex;
align-items: center;
justify-content: center;
width: 100%;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav li em{
border: unset;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a em,
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{
padding: .35em .75em;

text-overflow: ellipsis;
overflow: hidden;
white-space: nowrap;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{
flex-grow: 2;
margin: 0;
padding: 0;
/* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */
background-color: #333333;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{
border: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{
width: 100%;
color: #ffffff;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{
color: #ffffff;
background-color: #333333;
}
.yui-navset .yui-content {
background-color: #ffffff;
box-shadow: none;
}
.yui-navset .yui-content,
.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{
padding: .5em;
border: 1px solid #333;
box-sizing: border-box;
}

/*---- SCROLLBAR ----*/

::-webkit-scrollbar {
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Anarchaeology Training Session #3 Video Log Transcript

Location: Psara, Greece

Date: April 8th, 2017

Personnel Present:

Junior Researcher Mathias Kwok, Anarchaeology Specialist

Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi, Anomalous Anthropologist

The camera switches on and autofocuses to the darkness of a cave. Sunlight brightens the periphery of the frame.

Kwok: The smell isn't great, but at least it's cool in here. I thought I was going to melt on the walk over.

Mohalbi: Well, the quicker we finish today's demos, the sooner we can get back to the sweet relief of AC. <She pauses.> But if we take as long as we did last time, I'm going to start preparing you for taxidermy.

Kwok: You'll stuff me? <They laugh.> Bad joke, I know. Precision is part of the job, however. If you have an issue with my level of caution, I heard that Zeta-9 is always recruiting.

Kwok attempts to pick up a large, loose stone. They struggle.

Kwok: You don't seem like the MTF type, though, so I suggest you follow my lead. You'll get your sweet relief without getting yelled at by the professor.

Mohalbi: Right. <Whispering> I can't wait for this to be over.

A pause. Kwok reaches to their belt for a chisel and small hammer, placing the former on the edge of the stone. They rotate the rock as they strike it firmly. After some time, the rock cracks in two.

Mohalbi: Anything good?

Kwok: More nummulite, non-anomalous. Since I was careful, you can see the preserved coils. They act as good index fossils too, so we know exactly when we are in history.

Kwok stands, holstering their hammer and chisel. Mohalbi rolls her eyes and stares at the roof of the cave.

Mohalbi: You know, if you were paying attention on the way in, you would have seen hundreds of them embedded in the rocks.

Mohalbi sits and removes her hat, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Mohalbi: We've been out where for what, three weeks now? I'm sick of waking up to sweltering heat just to split loose rocks in a cave until the sun sets. I want to, I don't know, dig up ancient civilizations that shouldn't have existed. Wasn't that what we were promised during orientation?

Kwok: We're going to get there soon— once we show them that we can do this right, hopefully they'll put us on larger projects…

Kwok picks up a rock, offering it to Mohalbi.

Kwok: You'll have your breakthrough soon, I know it.

Mohalbi hesitates before taking the rock, observing it. She tosses it deeper into the cave. A hollow thud reverberates down the tunnel. The pair turn towards the noise. She looks at Kwok.

Mohalbi: Ask and ye shall receive.

They arrive at a fist-sized hole in a dirt and vine wall. Mohalbi takes a small mattock from its holster and begins to chip away at the hole, creating an entrance large enough to fit a person.

Kwok: Hold on, shouldn't we call for backup? Not only that, according to the handbook, we need to prioritize securing the area and asses the stability of the cave before we go any further.

Mohalbi: And give Elana an opportunity to steal credit for my discovery? No way. Stay out if you want, but I will bury you if you reach for that radio.

Kwok is seen reaching for their radio, but pauses. After a moment, they join her at the opening, holding a flashlight.

Kwok: Fine. But I'm not doing this for you; I'd rather an anarchaeologist be present for potential discoveries instead of just an 'anthropologist'.

Mohalbi: Come on, rockboy. Without me, you wouldn't know why the things you find were made. I know you want to find something big, you're the same as me.

Kwok enters behind Mohalbi, shining their light around the newly revealed cavern. A collection of humanoid objects can be seen in various poses throughout the space, with collections of vases and scrolls scattered on the outskirts.

Kwok: Looks like some sort of storage, long-term maybe. A lot of these statues don't look like they've been moved in centuries, given the overgrowth. Natural erosion could explain the entrance being blocked off.

Mohalbi: The style is definitely Greek, but the major influences, culture and materials are nothing like what we've seen on Psara before— think it could be anomalous?

Kwok: Outwardly, no. The materials all seem non-anomalous to me. The only concern would be the statues, but we would need to extract those to a laboratory for better observation.

Shuffling can be heard from the other side of the cavern. A pot falls to the floor and shatters. A cloud of dust remains when Kwok and Mohalbi shine their lights in the direction of the noise. Kwok stumbles backward into the cave wall, dropping their flashlight. The light points to a flat, straw mat on the cave floor adjacent to an almost extinguished fire. A sleeping humanoid rests atop the mat.

Kwok: Mohalbi! Come quick, I think someone's alive here!

Mohalbi: No shit. I'll radio for medical.

Kwok slowly approaches the figure. They reach out a hand to touch its shoulder. The sound of footsteps rapidly approaches from the right, as another humanoid figure grabs Kwok's sleeved wrist, crushing it.

???: You will not defile her.1

Mohalbi trips, dislodging the camera. The footage goes black.

Item#: 8811

Containment Class: safe

Secondary Class: {$secondary-class}

Disruption Class: notice

Risk Class: dark

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8811 are currently contained in situ. Provincial Site-Ψ has been constructed around the point of initial discovery.

Sketch of SCP-8811-A, circa 1898.

Description: SCP-8811 is the collective designation for a previously undiscovered settlement below Psara, Greece. SCP-8811-A and -B are two female humanoids of unknown age, who claim to have lived in SCP-8811. Recovered alongside -A and -B were several artifacts: decorative vases and jugs, parchment scrolls, and a collection of ~80 intact statues, with an estimated 300+ fragmented and destroyed statues. Materials relevant to SCP-8811's containment have been translated and provided below.

SCP-8811 was discovered during a training anarchaeological survey of Psara, leading to a confrontation between -B and the trainees. Plans to relocate -A and -B to a more permanent containment site were devised, but have yet to be implemented.

Addendum SCP-8811.1 - Recovered Materials and Interviews

Fragment SCP-8811-A-1

Our story starts long ago. Long before the songs of heroes and the laments of tragedies, before Greece was named such. In fact, our story takes place far from the wondrous halls of Athenian scholars, far from the banks of the Evrotas and the Spartans and the mountainous valleys of Delphic prophets. Indeed, it is on the small island of Psara that our story starts. The birth of a Princess.

Now Psara was a humble fishing settlement. But while some of its people sought the bounty of the sea, many more found their calling in sculpture.

The sculptors of Psara were like no other. No where else could one witness the wonders of those forms crafted from clay or marble. Mythic heroes, vengeful villains, creatures both tame and terrifying. Every curve and fang and tuft of fur was carved by the calloused, yet delicate, hand of the people of Psara. Hands that soon began to craft the irreal.

The Princess, who was still of flesh and blood, grew up surrounded by these sculptured forms found nowhere else in nature. To be human was to have a creative mind, but to be Psaran was to let your imagination run wild. But where others were gifted in craft, the Princess had her own gift. Every night when she went to sleep, she saw before her fragmented glimpses of the future, small pieces of shattered glass for her to take into her hands to find meaning in.

The people of Psara loved the small girl who, with white hair and moon-like skin, murmured fortunes and prophecies of the future while drifting in and out of sleep. She was an oneiromancer, and on her 10th birthday, her dreams were only of death and destruction.

SCP-8811-B Intake Interview

Location: Psara, Greece

Date: April 9th, 2017

Personnel Present:

Junior Researcher Mathias Kwok

Kwok: Hello, SCP-8811-B. If you would take a seat, we can—

SCP-8811-B: When will you allow me to return to her side? It has been decades since we were apart for this long.

Kwok: I promise that you can see her again, just as soon as you can answer our questions.

SCP-8811-B crosses their arms and stares back at Kwok.

SCP-8811-B: I will stand.

Kwok: SCP-8811-B, if I could just get you to—

SCP-8811-B: What is this 'SCP' you call me? My name is Lysandra, given to me by my parents, named after my grandmother.

Kwok: Apologies, Lysandra.

SCP-8811-B: I will answer your questions, but if you do not allow me to return to her soon, you will pay for your betrayal with blood.

Kwok wipes the sweat from their forehead. They look down at the cast on their wrist.

Kwok: Right, t-thank you for your cooperation. Can you tell me more about yourself and SCP-8811-A? Your companion.

SCP-8811-B: If you are talking about Euno, I am her protector.

Kwok: What do you mean by 'protector'?

SCP-8811-B: I protect her. My life has been promised to her. Do your people not have faithful guardians anymore? <They squint and lean forward.> You don't look like much of a warrior to me.

Kwok: We still have people who fight, things are just… well, things are different now. People can kill from a great distance, and the danger is more invisible than it was before.

SCP-8811-B laughs.

SCP-8811-B: You are misguided. Magick and the hands of fate have been killing long before you and I were alive— a warrior is a warrior because of who they protect, why they protect them, not what they face.

Kwok: So… why do you protect SCP-88— Euno?

SCP-8811-B: Why does the sun rise? Why do the shore and sea meet? I am her blade, and I live and die alongside her.

Kwok: Can I assume you mean that figuratively?

SCP-8811-B: No.

Kwok: No?

SCP-8811-B: I am sworn to her. Bonded. Perhaps in your time, you have forgotten what it means to truly serve, but I have not. For as long as she lives, I will remain to ensure that no harm falls upon her.

Kwok: Wow. That's… intense. What is it you're protecting her from, exactly?

SCP-8811-B: The world.

Fragment SCP-8811-A-2

Word of Psara's sculptures spread far and wide, and envoys from afar sought to find the truth of the rumor of creation on this small, rocky island. Many came to the island in awe, writing poems and epics of the island half-population by figures of stone. Others looked to the island with bitterness; who were the Psarans to create such intricate art? Who were they to the prideful Athenians or the tragic Thebans?

These few, seeking the bounty of the islands for themselves, demanded that the "lesser" Psarans create for them sculptures that would make their cities the envy of the known world. The King, though one of charity, refused.

"Who are you to create such beauty for yourself and not for others?" They chided. But the King could only smile. The Psarans sought not to create for wealth or fame, but found their joy in the simple act of creation.

And so, the envoys left, promising to return to the island with armadas and armies to steal the beauty of the island away. The people of Psara thought their threats to be empty, the Princess knew that to be false. She twisted and turned in the night, whispering of collapse and death. The King and his advisors listened intently, and for months, they watched the horizon for their promised end.

There were no invaders to meet the Psarans on the beach, however, no triremes with hoplites whose bronze armor shined in the sun. The King had his craftsman create winding leviathans and fearsome chimeras to dissuade any would be adversary from coming close to the island. After months of no action, the King declared victory, and a feast was held on the island in the name of the Princess whose prophecy was yet to come true.

However, the threats of men are fickle things when compared with the words of the faith. And what armies could not dream to do, a single man could. A single question to topple a kingdom, the flutter of a butterfly wing to create a storm.

SCP-8811-B Interview #2

Location: Psara, Greece

Date: April 10th, 2017

Personnel Present:

Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi

SCP-8811-B sits alone, watching the door in silence. It opens, and Researcher Mohalbi enters.

SCP-8811-B: Who are you? What happened to the other one? I will not be kept any longer withou—

Mohalbi: Hi, so sorry about that! I'm Researcher Mohalbi, one of the other researchers working at the dig site. I'll be taking over the interviews from now on.

SCP-8811-B's frustration vanishes, replaced by a look of confusion.

SCP-8811-B: Mohalbi? Garafilia?

Mohalbi: Pardon?

SCP-8811-B: My mistake. It matters not.

SCP-8811-B leans forward, resting on the table.

SCP-8811-B: Why should I talk to you?

Mohalbi: Look, if you want to talk to the rock nerd, be my guest. But they don't know the difference between the Greek and Roman cultures— so have fun with that, Lysandra.

SCP-8811-B does not move. After a second, they lean back, and gesture to the other seat.

Mohalbi: I thought so. So, tell me about yourself.

SCP-8811-B: As I told your compatriot, I am Euno's protec—

Mohalbi: I know, I know, you protect her. I care about more than just that; is it a vow you swore? Maybe a debt owed, or—

SCP-8811-B: A debt? Protecting the Princess of Hypopsara is the greatest honor possible. While I am just a lowly human, Euno is blessed with powers untold; to serve alongside her is my sole purpose.

Mohalbi: Hypopsara… so you were always underground?

SCP-8811-B: Not quite.

Fragment SCP-8811-A-3

On an early morning, when the sailors and fishers let loose their moorings to take to the water, a rotting vessel cut across the jeweled water of the sea. A man, whose grey beard draped down to his chest, confidently steamed forward on a small raft with a hull more barnacle and seaweed than wood. The water seemed to flee from in front of him, slipping out from the bow as the boat cut into the sand of Psara's shore. The King was sent for not soon after and, with Princess in tow, they met the mystical man on the beach.

He bowed, as the pair approached, that man of the sea. He introduced himself as but a humble servant of the gods, sent with holy mission to the island. The gods, who had long grown weary of the Psarans, requested their fealty, loyalty by worship, a course correction to save the people of the island from their own hubris.

Once again, the King denied.

The man simply bowed, cursed and spat on the sand before the King, and returned to his ship. He hardly made it past the shallow bar before he was swallowed by the sea, with only foam remaining.

That night, nestled into the nook of her kline, the Princess slipped in and out of prophetic sleep. The soft moon, from which the Princess had shared many features, hid half its face in the night sky, but still painted the chambers of the young girl in a soft glow. She held her eyes shut as the cacophony of footsteps made their way to her room, trying not to awake in tears when their klismos scraped against the stone floor as the men began to speak and wait for her words.

"We have to strike first to protect ourselves!" said the martial man.

"We should reason and negotiate! There's no need to shed blood," said the wise man.

"We need to protect ourselves here. I will not bend and I will not let my people die!" said the King.

A vision, fleeting like a butterfly, entered the mind of the Princess. Unconsciously, she reached out to grab it, hold it in her hand as the prismatic patterns on its wings flowed out to form a scene around her. It was dark, and the Psarans were beset on all sides by the cool dampness of the earth. The soft light of the sun glowed through several long shafts carried on the back of the salty island wind. Several figures stood, frozen in various poses and positions, holding each other close or working together in peaceful unity.

And then, darkness. The Princess was alone, painted under the light of the full moon.

"We…underground…together…darkness…" The Princess muttered, tears streaming down her cheek as the men leaned closer to heed her words. The men mumbled in decision before nodding, their footsteps disappearing one by one. The King sat at the edge of the Kline, wiped the tears from the Princess' eyes, and whispered "thank you" before slowly closing her chamber door.

As she had said it, the King saw to it that it would be done.

Continued

SCP-8811-B: If your partner is focused on earth, what is your specialty. The gods?

Researcher Mohalbi laughs, and SCP-8811-B furrows their brow.

Mohalbi: In a way. Kwok studies what was left behind, I prefer to go to the source directly. I'm an anthropologist.

SCP-8811-B: You study humans? And this is a profession?

Mohalbi: Trust me, I'm in the minority. <A pause.> Enough about me, tell me more. Did you grow up with Euno?

SCP-8811-B: I did not. I was raised by father after the death of my mother; he was a fisherman, and raised me to follow in his footsteps.

Mohalbi: So Hypopsara was a fishing community?

SCP-8811-B: Yes, we fished. But, as with many of the other islands, our lives were at the will of the gods, and we struggled to survive.

Mohalbi: How so?

SCP-8811-B sighs.

SCP-8811-B: The hour runs late, and you ask many questions, Mohalbi. Let me return to her now, so I may tend the fire. I can teach you more about us at a later time.

Mohalbi pauses.

Mohalbi: Alright, I'll let you return to your princess. Security will escort you back to the cavern. <She smiles.> I'll be sure to think of some questions for you in the mean time.

SCP-8811-B Interview #3

Location: Psara, Greece

Date: April 11th, 2017

Team Members Present:

Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi

Mohalbi: SCP-8811-B, it's good to see you again.

SCP-8811-B does not answer, slightly tilting their head as they watch Researcher Mohalbi warily.

Mohalbi: I was hoping we could talk about religion today.

SCP-8811-B: I will make a deal with you, Mohalbi. You are the only person I have found tolerable within your… band of compatriots, and the armed guards you have patrolling the tunnels around Hypopsara have prevented me from my routine gathering. We are low on firewood, and in need of more. Perhaps we can come to an accord?

Mohalbi: I don't think I'm authorized to—

SCP-8811-B: Authority? 'Researcher', I believe we are alone in the room. Is there another you must answer to?

Researcher Mohalbi: You're right, I can make that call. Okay, deal. You answer my questions, you get firewood. Now first question: you had said that Hypopsara had an antagonistic relationship with the Greek gods?

SCP-8811-B: Yes. The gods were spiteful, much as they are now, and wished to control those who existed outside of their domains. Hypopsara was one such place, one that the gods demanded fealty from.

Mohalbi: Why Hypopsara?

SCP-8811-B: What do you know of art, Mohalbi?

Mohalbi: I flunked my one art history class — I don't get it. It's just so abstract, and—

SCP-8811-B: Ah. Not quite, what do you know of our art?

Mohalbi: Even less.

SCP-8811-B: In the times of Psara's glory, the gods and society held a firm belief in what art was; art was a gift, granted by the gods, and meant to be as exact of a replication of reality as was humanly possible. The artist focused on mimicry, an duplicate of the world; but for Psara, the artist was a revolutionary.

Mohalbi: Revolutionary?

SCP-8811-B: Yes, they created what they saw in their minds' eye. They created fiction; the Gods believed that true 'creation' was sacrilege, how dare a mortal attempt to do that which the Gods did? And yet, for Hypopsara, we created; we all earned our curse.

Mohalbi: So you were also a sculptor?

SCP-8811-B: No. Not all Hypopsarans were born with the gift to create from stone; my father was a poor fisherman, only taken in by the community because of my mother, who had grown up living amongst the artists. After she passed, we lived alone in our small cottage, trading with Hypopsara, but never feeling truly at home.

Mohalbi: So you learned to fish?

SCP-8811-B: All we did was fish. I watched the sculptors in the distance, floating in our small boat, only a stone's throw from the shore — I wanted to be them, wanted to live in their world so desperately, but… the fates did not agree. <SCP-8811-B looks down.> Not that it would have mattered, the Gods would not wait much longer.

Mohalbi: How did you know?

SCP-8811-B: A fisher knows how to read the water. We learn how to listen to the sea, to watch the birds, the clouds, to know when danger is coming. My father and I knew it was time to return from the sea, to find shelter. We had heard it from the moon. And of course, that was only the beginning.

Fragment SCP-8811-A-4

The Princess watched as the King gathered all of Psara's sculptors and craftspeople and priests. She watched as they circled the fields around the city, marking stones and clearing grass. She watched as the mystics sacrificed animals and chanted loudly and cast their valuables in the fire. And she watched, as she had many times before, as the sculptors took the earth within their hands, manipulating it, before finally the city was sealed underground.

For a time, the Psarans lived peacefully in their new world. Hypopsara was a wonder to rival even the colossal guardian of Rhodes itself. But living underground came with its own perils, and the Princess, knowing this, spent as much time as she could on the surface.

She came to fear the dark, fear the winding avenues of the city she so loved to traverse in the light. It was much more comforting for her to exist on the shore, to feel the sand, feel the water lap at her feet, to hear the sailing stories of the fishers as they returned with their nets. She began to befriend them, one of the fisher's daughters would even set aside a fig or a handful of olives aside from her lunch, just in case the Princess would be joining them. The Princess only knew of the fisher's daughter in passing; and yet, each time she sat, not more than a stones throw away, they would not speak to one another. For how could a fisherman's daughter ever hope to approach royalty?

But sleep came much harder to the Princess now and with that, her dreams became more and more infrequent, more and more of terrors thought to be long passed. The King, his council, slowly appeared less and less in her chambers. They no longer sought her guidance, she felt they no longer needed it, no longer needed her.

Surveillance Log 8811-A

Location: Hypopsaran Ruins, Greece

Date: April 12th, 2017

Note: The following was captured by surveillance equipment placed throughout the Hypopsaran ruins. Due to the distance of the camera from the subjects, and poor acoustics, and limited camera angles, only parts of the conversation are intelligible.

The surveillance camera observes SCP-8811-B, standing in front of a camp fire, tending to it. They add a new log, and the dwindling flame roars back to life. The fire burns in a small pit within an open structure in the cavern; it is believed that SCP-8811-A sits on the orthogonally-adjacent side of the firepit, obscured by a stone wall.

SCP-8811-B: You need not worry, princess, not as long as I am here.

The fire crackles, but SCP-8811-A cannot be heard; their shadow is seen occasionally throughout the footage.

SCP-8811-B: I made a deal, with the one who shares our heritage. I give answers, and they ensure I can keep the flame burning.

SCP-8811-B is seen shaking their head as they prod the burning log.

SCP-8811-B: My lady, I made an oath. I swore a bond. To let this flame die… no, that is unthinkable to me.

The fire cracks as the log settles.

SCP-8811-B: Princess. No. I have stood stalwart for centuries, and will remain by your side for all of eternity. Even if we must stay… no matter our fates, I will keep you safe. You know that, don't you?

The fire burns. SCP-8811-B sits in silence, tending to the flame for the next 40 hours without taking a break. Nothing else of note occurs during this time.

SCP-8811-B Interview #4

Location: Psara, Greece

Date: April 13th, 2017

Team Members Present:

Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi

Mohalbi: Let's talk about Hypopsara. When did you and your father move into the caverns?

SCP-8811-B: Early on — my father's market stand had been relocated to Hypopsara, and we moved into a small stone cavern. They told us that with the wrathful eyes of the divine, it was no longer safe to leave the caverns; not alone, and not onto the sea. We resorted to fishing within the caverns, in the small pools and grottos that were carved out by the seawater, a pittance compared to the bounty of the sea. But we survived, for a time.

Mohalbi: How did you adjust?

SCP-8811-B: Poorly. I felt aimless, my routine controlled by the moon and the soothing wake of the ocean, now replaced by the monotony of the plainly colored stone walls of our new home. I would spend days, just wandering through the caverns, the darkness surrounding me.

Mohalbi: When did you meet Euno?

SCP-8811-B: It was on one of those walks. A sudden moment in life, a strange twist of the fates, the turning of the discs upset— and that is why I stand before you today.

Mohalbi: It sounds like you really care about her.

SCP-8811-B: It is my duty. And I serve my princess, just as I swore to over a millennia ago.

Mohalbi: Do you like her?

SCP-8811-B: Excuse me?

Mohalbi: Do you like her? Are you… are you blushing?

SCP-8811-B: A warrior does not blush.

Mohalbi: Right. You know that's okay, we're even more welcoming of queer relationships compared to your culture; there is no shame in a woman loving another woman.

SCP-8811-B: What does it matter? The curse that I defend her from, the wound between us; that same curse keeps us apart. Yes, we are the only two left, but… I am just a fisherman's daughter. I will never escape my fate, the strings have already been measured. We have simply wedged a rock between the blades of fate, our strings on the precipice of snapping.

Mohalbi: Have you ever told her?

SCP-8811-B: I would not risk her life, for my own… for my emotions. She is…

Mohalbi: Precious to you?

SCP-8811-B: Very.

Fragment SCP-8811-A-5

Hypopsara's completion was marked with tremors that many believed to be sent from the gods to deal with them once and for all. But, the city held for its craftsmen built it to be as strong as the people it was housing. The princess walked through the winding streets, inspecting any damage caused by the quake. Besides some fallen tiles and shattered vases, there was very little of note. The Princess had seen this happen before, knew that everything would be alright, knew that she would be alright.

An aftershock ripped through the cavern, causing loose tiles to rain down and for the Princess to lose her footing. An already maimed statue shifted behind her, and she closed her eyes as it fell towards her. She had already accepted her fate.

But when she opened her eyes again, she found herself wrapped in the arms of her savior: the fisher's daughter. The brittle stone had broken against her back, painting her pink with a mix of marble dust and blood. When the rumbling had ceased, and the pair was clear of danger, the fisher's daughter lowered herself on one knee and bowed to the Princess. The Princess learned that she was only there because the Princess had missed lunch, and her savior wanted to make sure she had something to eat. When the King and his guards found the pair, found the Princess tending to her still-bowing guardian, the fisher's daughter was elevated to be the Princess' protector, and would be treated as such. In fear, the King called for the mystics together for a ritual to protect the Princess. They crafted from root and grass and twisted bark a necklace, a boon, a seal of hopeful protection.

The Psarans met that night on the beach to revel, celebrate their survival, to spite those who sought to bury them. But the Princess and her protector would not be among them, and instead watched from the distance under an olive tree. To the Princess, there was very little to celebrate, and she instead resigned herself to sleep. She set her head on the lap of her protector, who sat sentinel, watching their surroundings.

And so, the Princess dreamed of darkness.

A butterfly, with wings that burned red and orange as the beach's bonfire, turned to ashes in front of her. She held the ashes in her hand, seeking within them answers of fate, before allowing the wind to take them from her.

She saw a scene of the island, of her asleep and the protector sitting stiff against an olive tree as a Princess slept on her lap. She walked down to the beach, watched the foamy water and heard the thunderous laughter of the undertow. And in the festival food and very wine they drank, the wine they so rarely partook in, the wine her father, the King, had her drink from earlier, it was there the Psarans would reap what they sowed. As the Princess jumped awake, frantically crawling backwards, pleading for her protector to stay away, the Princess would hear the first screams of the cursed.

From:

To:

CC:

Subject:

pMohalbi@scp.int

rHolstan@scp.int

mKwok@scp.int

SCP-8811 Transport

Hi Lead Researcher Holstan,

Thank you so much for your notes on the draft, they were incredibly helpful in getting used to how the Foundation structures reports. With regards to your notes on transport, as we've been learning more about the anomaly that allowed SCP-8811-A and SCP-8811-B to survive to present day, we discovered a potential snag. The sheer scope of anomalous anthropological knowledge that we could glean from SCP-8811-B, as well as the insights into ancient divination from SCP-8811-A both represent major assets to the Foundation, but it appears that the 'curse' laid by the gods could hypothetically neutralize both instances if they were to trigger said effect. We asked, but SCP-8811-B refuses to leave SCP-8811-A's side.

I am unsure how to proceed, so please advise the best course of action for how to best mitigate this, while still respecting their personal requests to be transported together.

Phoebe Mohalbi

Foundation Junior Researcher

Secure, Contain, Protect

From:

To:

CC:

Subject:

mKwok@scp.int

rHolstan@scp.int

pMohalbi@scp.int

RE: SCP-8811 Transport

Doctor Holstan,

While Junior Researcher Mohalbi presents a fair assessment, I am unsure why we are so hesitant to separate the instances for their own good.

Transporting and containing the two instances separately is the simplest solution, ensuring that no assets are risked. We do not worry about artifacts remaining in the same chamber during transportation, why should we apply the same logic to anomalies?

Mathias Kwok

Foundation Junior Researcher

Secure, Contain, Protect

From:

To:

CC:

Subject:

mKwok@scp.int

rHolstan@scp.int

pMohalbi@scp.int

RE: RE: SCP-8811 Transport

Junior Researchers Mohalbi and Kwok,

Transport SCP-8811-A and SCP-8811-B independently. We will move them into separate containment chambers upon their arrival to the main site, regardless of SCP-8811-B's complaints. Lie if you must, just get it done.

Rock Holstan

Foundation Senior Researcher

Secure, Contain, Protect

Fragment SCP-8811-A-6

In the aftermath, the Princess wearily stepped towards the beach, her protector shadowing her just slightly behind. She fell to her knees before her father, now turned to marble, embracing her mother. The beach became an orchard of statues, of figures who clung or held or reached for one another, the exclamations of their love or fear painted forever on their statuesque forms.

Those who were left looked to her, waited for her to speak, but now would not be the time for action, only tears. Her protector reached out, extending a hand to comfort her Princess, but she quickly took it back, frustration and grief burning on her face.

In silence, the Princess led her people back underground, and it was there they remained.

And for a time, history forgot the island of Psara, forgot the ancient oaths and curses once cast upon the land. People returned, resettled, lived and died a thousand deaths both heroic and mundane. Yet the people of Hypopsara remained, cursed, just underfoot. Although the world remembered them only through tragedies and parables, mocking phrases chastising the people of the island for their original sin, life went on. Across the centuries people lived but did not die. There would be no new Hypopsarans, no loving embraces or comfort in tragedy.

But to live without comfort in the darkness for centuries was a fate far worse than any death. One by one, the Hypopsarans began to vanish. Some of these statues were found in poses of defiance, a final act to spite those who had died long ago, those who history already forgot. Others chose a more quiet death, simply holding one another close in an embrace in some far off corner of the cavern.

This happened day after day, year after year, century after century. Until only two remained: the Princess and her protector.

Lysandra and I.

Surveillance Log 8811-A

Location: Hypopsaran Ruins, Greece

Date: April 15th, 2017

The surveillance camera observes SCP-8811-B by the campfire. The fire is burning low, and the nearby stock of wood has dwindled. SCP-8811-B stares into the shadows, presumably at SCP-8811-A, who is obscured.

SCP-8811-B: Princes— Euno. I am worried.

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: They are speaking of transfers, cells and boats. They are trying to take us from our homes.

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: But Euno, I swore that I would not leave your side. I have already risked far too much by allowing myself to be spoken to in another room, without you in my protection. Princess, please, I implore you. Tell me what you know.

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: I don't understand.

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: Euno, please. Tell me. What did the butterflies tell you?

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: What I already know? I just… Princess, I swore to protect you. No harm would befall on you, not even the curse. I cannot let my own emotions interrupt my—

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: <Silent.>

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: Are you… are you sure?

SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.>

SCP-8811-B: At dawn? I will be there, waiting. My Princess.

SCP-8811-B bows their head.

Fragment SCP-8811-A-7

By the time you figured out how to read this, Lysandra and I would have already made our decision. I feel like you understand, traveler from the future. I feel like you've known that there was ever going to be one ending to our story. Return to the cave and find us. Know that this was a choice we made together; we simply could not deny ourselves of each other's comfort for another moment longer, though Lysandra would have continued to serve me faithfully for millennia if I had asked.

I know not what happens beyond this point, the butterflies stopped bringing me visions of the future so long ago. I no longer find myself wanting to seek the answer to that question, though. For the first time in years, my future will hold me close in her arms. I'll be able to feel her warmth after all these years.

If I may make one last request: when you return to the cave, please bring us, all of us, somewhere bright. I've always been afraid of the dark, and it would be nice to see the sun again after all these years.

And thank you, dear reader. I hope you enjoyed our story. I wish we could have been here to tell it to you, but fate, in all its mystery, had other plans.

Lysandra, my love. It's time for you to rest after all of these harrowing years. I hope we can eat figs and fall asleep under the olive tree together when I find you in the afterlife.

Goodbye.

SCP-8811 has been reclassified to neutralized.

Footnotes

1. Translated from Ancient Greek