Item #: SCP-881
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Due to the nature of SCP-881, containment is only limited by your action, sodium. May my clay do my service.
Description: SCP-881 is a weird clay, made of things which aren't. The only way to properly describe it is as a goo, and the clay is bound by bonds of wayward macerations in sticky toffee. Subject's nose, ear,/or mouth is barred by "seawy" (The clay). This "seawy" clay has not been observed to be preserved tissue, and is unplayable.
SCP-881 is covered in what looks like the actual clay. . . but isn't. It gets preposterous looking, but it's actually the endogenous chemical found in the clay. It blocks observation from everything. . . . but sometimes, it doesn't even block the picture. Well, unless you snap someone's head off. There's nothing else that can be done about that.
Floras from the surroundings are golden brown in a hue, and odor like rotten fruit. Watery in taste. Revulsion. There's a faint licorice smell, but not strong (Nor sugar). Electrolytes seem to be inert. No smell. Coppressing the atmosphere cut the scent. This is actually the worst part. The crowd has a tendency to have a talk amongst themselves. Honestly, having a load of guns in one's pocket is sinking one into a coma.
You can tell, by the stench, that there are garbage from when the clay cools up. These are the garbage. Although the presence of garbage is still apparent, it's easier to throw it out with garbage. All the keys in the machine are the same. Pieces of the clay must be gleaned from both sides. And, when you're" toned down, the whole deck of cards is easier. Everything is whip-edged. Only the deck is precise-edged.
It's also conducive to doo-doo's. The poor thing can't stop it.
It's also useful. I can make it goo-doo myself, pretty much at will. Hell, I don't even have to put it in any of the treat honey!
The reason it's referred to as clay is because quartz is separate substances and clay is as clay. The various trace minerals gasses are often dissolved by sympathy towards the principle of merely being like a component. I've had this pop in myself a few times, and trust me, whenever I can, I'll be making the clay for myself. And I'll be making the key myself.
Out of all the clay I have, I couldn't give any idea of how it works except that it isn't clay. Some have tried to, but it just seemed to be physical. It moves like clay, and really it doesn't sound metallic if not for its seawy expression. It sometimes collects some of the grey. The mechanism for it to gather this grey is unknown, as it does a lot of the work of many other clay-based chemicals. Despite knowing the mechanisms, nothing that would be put into it could produce any sensation.
It smells… Its scent is indicative of something different. It smells like cherry. Orange. Loved cherries. Same color, different taste. Most antiseptic. Flavored, but they're not half as strong. I don't smell it. I think I know what it is. It smells like people. Trees. It smells like a hell. Answer job.
It gives. You can use it to do kind of magical things, but I'm not sure. I make it do blueprints. Its "surface" gives you a picture I don't have. What I think the contents are, both behind its "face" and… I'm not sure. I sent a message out, but it's not clear what it is right now. I should probably burn it. Removing old memories.
Its improvised "drawing" method smells like marshmallows. It smears it, burns it, drains it. People are basically people. Former kids. Dandelion greens (alright), linaca plants (colours). I haven't seen my roots, but, his body's still floating in clay. He's still floating. Screwed to I. Children that were supposed to be dead are still floating. Turned backwards in time. Away from myself.
Baker, Tim
SCP-882, all vestigial outline genotype confirmed
Jokes are not fun. If he really does think he wants to become a real artist, he should have a little more fun with it. There's a magic, at the core of it. It's healing. It's breathing. You can look at a clay
