SCP Animated - Tales From The Foundation: Carson and Y/n

(Remastered Version)

Y/n's POV

"How much longer is he going to take?"

The words leave Carson's mouth as he slumps against the frozen wall, containing remains of unknown, probably extinct marine mammals.

"I have no idea, baby bro."

It's already late at night, past 6 p.m. and still no shaman; we've been waiting in this iceberg for forever now. What our luck to be on standby as the shaman would be making one of his visits to SCP 1836; a bit odd considering the last time, but hey, when has anything been normal in this line of work? They're even throwing in a new MTF from [REDACTED] too. Let's pray to God that he was somewhat briefed on the anomaly or else he's...

Is it a he?

"What's the new dude's name again?"

"Lawrence, just plain old Lawrence, unlike a certain decayed old man."

"*chuckles* Tell me about it."

Like I said, hopefully he'd been a little briefed or else he's practically signing his death wish.

Just then sets of light thuds are heard down the ice passage, snapping me from my thoughts; footsteps.

Sweet relief.

Carson straightens up as he recognizes the familiar sound. In less than a minute, the shaman comes around the corner along with the new MTF: mahogany hair; gray, soulless eyes suggesting colorblindness and an equally drained face. Nevertheless, he held a friendly expression; but in the back of my mind, I can only feel pity.

He has no idea what he's dealing with.

He stands beside us as the shaman addresses us. "This goes without saying but... Neither of you three happen to be a cosmetologist, right?"

A cosmetologist; Carson and I wear our helmets to not deal with our hair problems.

We glance at each other, sharing the same surprised expression before looking back at him.

Lawrence answers him. "Mmm.. No."

"*sigh* So we are clear then. You three will stay here and I will speak with Sedna. Be silent, do not come inside, and please. If things get out of hand, leave immediately."

"Can't promise that last part," Lawrence stated. "We're here to protect you, sir. We care–"

"I'm asking this for my protection. If she catches wind of you three in here, you'll have essentially already failed your mission... If you want to protect me. Please, act like you aren't here. *sigh* If it wasn't for the last incident."

"What incident?"

Carson begins to explain. "They used to only let a shaman and a hairdresser come in to comb 1836's hair. After she saw what happened to the last shaman, O'Footer or whatever her name was, freaked out and refuses to come back..."

I add to that. "The O5's decided that playing nice wasn't working, so now we're taking a more militaristic approach."

"What happened to the last shaman?"

The shaman answers him. "The spirits decided that he sang his last song."

Carson simplifies that response. "Basically, the iceberg lady's ex didn't like him. Some bird dude."

Yeah... that day wasn't pretty.

The shaman looks at him sternly. "I'd suggest you keep your irreverent remarks to yourself."