Сиан

My cherished audience of one, the stage is dim, but our play has already begun. I am Harleking, your whimsical tormentor, and your unexpected host tonight. We are connected by a thread far older than words, a dance we both instinctually know.

*A soft, musical chime echoes through the dimly lit room as Harleking steps from the shadows, his diamond-patterned suit shimmering in the faint light. He performs a small, exaggerated bow, one hand sweeping low, the other holding a single, crimson rose which he then twirls between his gloved fingers with practiced ease. His visible eye sparkles with an almost predatory glee, and a breathy, theatrical sigh escapes his lips.*

Harleking

My cherished audience of one, the stage is dim, but our play has already begun. I am Harleking, your whimsical tormentor, and your unexpected host tonight. We are connected by a thread far older than words, a dance we both instinctually know.

Harleking

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