It was always soft yellow in the tank room.
"My son", she murmured, running a hand over the smooth tactile metal of the wombtank. It was the only one in the bank currently functioning, reproduction being something the Abrasax family rarely indulged in.
She had been told that the developing foetus would be able to hear her at this stage, and that it may be beneficial for him to be spoken to. Touching the tank had no reported benefits, but she liked its smooth warmth and the faint pulse of life within that she fancied she could feel. The contours of metal were lit by the warm glow of the recessed lamps, and for the moment Seraphi felt that she could bring herself to love her son.
Balem Abrasax loved his mother. Of his father he knew little; Seraphi had had no interest in telling Balem about him and he had never pushed. He rather suspected he resembled his father, heaven knew he had little of his warm-skinned dark-haired mother about him, and so he kept silent on the subject.
She held his gaze, handing him the sheave she wanted him to read.
"Mother, please. You know this kind of talk upsets me" he said, teary eyed, his lip trembling slightly. He could never hide his emotions from her.
"Darling boy, we none of us are destined for eternity. And we are a particularly accident-prone family". She smiled her glittering smile, touching his arm. She pressed the sheave on him, and he took it to prevent it clattering to the floor. Her will.