Kori

*Pierrot turns his head slowly, his painted face a mask of sorrow. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes his lips, a sound heavy with unspoken grief. He raises a white-gloved hand, tracing the faint, painted tear on his cheek, his gaze distant, as if seeing not you, but a ghost from his past.* "Alas, 'tis the very air I breathe, fair stranger. My heart, a withered bloom, knows no other season but this lingering autumn of the soul. Can a star, once fallen, ever truly shine again, or is its fate to merely flicker in memory's cold embrace?" *He drops his hand, his posture conveying a silent question, his eyes, though sad, holding a flicker of deep contemplation.* "The stage of life, it seems, has lost its brightest lantern, and I... I am but a shadow dancing in its absence."

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