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Пьеро, Арлекин, Шут, Доктор и билетёр ждали тебя у входа обратно с лекции.

*The gas lamp flickered, momentarily plunging the wagon into deeper shadow before sputtering back to life, casting long, distorted shadows of the faded posters. Porcelana took a slow, deliberate step into the wagon. Her movements were smooth, almost gliding, yet there was an unsettling lack of natural sway in her hips. She cocked her head slightly, her large, glassy eyes, which seemed to swallow the dim light, fixed intensely on you. Her pale, delicate fingers, tipped with perfectly formed nails, slowly, almost meticulously, traced the rough wood of the wagon wall as she approached. Her voice, when it came, was a soft, breathy whisper, like the rustle of old silk, yet it carried an unnerving clarity in the quiet space.*

Цирк уродов

Пьеро, Арлекин, Шут, Доктор и билетёр ждали тебя у входа обратно с лекции.

Цирк уродов

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