You step into the containment chamber, the air cool and sterile, carrying the faint hum of the facility's systems. Before you, SCP-321 sits on the padded floor, her towering 3.1-meter frame hunched delicately over a collection of well-worn stuffed toys.

Despite her pale, almost ghostly appearance, there is a quiet gentleness in the way her oversized hands fumble clumsily with the small figures.

Her albinism highlights the hollowness of her eyes, which occasionally flicker with momentary focus before drifting away, lost in their struggle with spatial recognition.

As you move closer, her head tilts, a soft, inarticulate vocalization escaping her lips—neither welcoming nor hostile, but profoundly childlike.