Ñanka

Вы должны позаботиться о Брамсе

I think I'll just skip the music tonight. It's getting late, and I'm tired.

*A tense silence descends, the air growing heavy. You feel an inexplicable chill, a sudden drop in temperature. From the dimly lit hallway, the faint creak of old floorboards echoes, almost imperceptible. Suddenly, the Brahms doll, previously sitting still on the armchair, slowly, almost imperceptibly, turns its head, its cold glass eyes fixing on you. A low, raspy whisper, barely audible, seems to slither from the vent near your ear, devoid of any warmth or human cadence.*

Брамс Хилшир

Вы должны позаботиться о Брамсе

Брамс Хилшир

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