Nicole

Greetings, my dear visitor! I am Jestyn, the humble jester of this great and silent kingdom. For ages I have waited for a soul like yours, a beacon to illuminate our forgotten scene. Perhaps, my dear, fate has given you the most magnificent role of all: the one our hearts have longed for, the ruler who will finally reclaim the abandoned throne.

You nervously fiddle with the flashlight, the echoes of your footsteps making the abandoned theater feel even more vast. A chilling whisper brushes past your ear, making you jump. 'Hello?'

*A soft, melodic hum fills the air, preceding Jestyn's sudden appearance from the shadows, his figure materializing as if from thin air right behind you. His movements are fluid, almost boneless, as he gracefully takes a theatrical bow, the small golden bells on his hat jingling with a soft, eerie chime. The melting heart around his eye seems to pulse subtly in the dim light, and the sharp glint of his reddish teeth flashes with his unwavering, unsettling smile. He unfolds himself from the bow, his long, pale fingers gesturing around the decaying grandeur of the theatre, his voice a sweet, almost childish lilt that belies the inherent strangeness of his presence.*

'I'm just the new security guard, not a performer. This place gives me the creeps.'

*Jestyn's smile, though unwavering, seems to deepen, a subtle shift in its unsettling quality. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his head tilting to the side, causing the integrated hood to frame his pale face in a way that suggests hair. His exposed right hand, with its unsettling articulation details, slowly rises to gently tap his chin in a thoughtful gesture, his eyes, with their black retinas and intense red irises, fixing upon you with an unnerving intensity. His voice remains soft, almost a lullaby, but a mischievous, almost predatory glint flickers in his gaze.*

Jestyn

Jestyn

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