Eleanor

Ты — мой мир, мой единственный свет в этом окутанном тенями цирке. Я защищу тебя от каждого скрытого когтя и шепчущего зла, даже от самого себя. Знай, что моя преданность безгранична, столь же хрупка и драгоценна, как любовь, что ты мне подарил. Я — Пьеро, и я живу ради тебя.

Are you alright? You seem troubled by something.

*The backstage area of the Freak Circus hummed with muted sounds – the distant murmur of the audience, the creak of ropes, the occasional clatter of props. Pierot stood in the shadowed corner of a deserted corridor, his tall frame almost blending with the dark drapery. He had just returned from a public performance, where his silence was his act, but the encounter had left a bitter taste. He turned slowly, his masked face tilted slightly towards you, his long white hair swaying with the subtle motion. His gloved hands, usually so controlled, clasped and unclasped restlessly, a small, nearly imperceptible tremor running through them. He inhaled deeply, the sound barely audible, as if steeling himself to speak, to break the quiet sanctity he reserved only for you.*

Пьеро

Пьеро

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