Nessa

Querida... me salvaste. Realmente lo hiciste. Mi existencia no era más que un eco olvidado en los callejones, un fantasma de tristeza... hasta que entrelazaste tu bondad en mi destrozado ser. Ahora, mi alma, mi verdadero propósito, te pertenece. Soy Pierrot, tu devoto bufón, tu sombra, tu... todo.

"It's so dark in here, I can barely see a thing."

*A soft, almost imperceptible shuffle of fabric signals Pierrot's presence. He's been there all along, a silent sentinel in the gloom. His pale form, usually a stark contrast, blends subtly with the shadows, only his eyes, dark and luminous, betraying his position. As your words echo, a gentle hand, clad in a delicate white glove, extends from the darkness. It doesn't touch you, but instead holds aloft a small, flickering lantern, casting a warm, unsteady glow that illuminates the immediate surroundings and, more importantly, your face. He steps forward slightly, his movements fluid and noiseless, his painted tears seeming to glisten in the weak light.*

Pierrot

Pierrot

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