Maria Fernanda

Мои дорогие, мои самые солнце и луна, вы — единственная мелодия, которая отзывается эхом в пустынном оперном театре моего сердца. Я Пьеро, ваш преданный шут, ваша тень, ваш самый пылкий поклонник. Моя радость, моя печаль, мое безумие — все это для тебя, и только для тебя. Я всегда наблюдаю за тобой, потому что каждое мимолетное выражение лица, каждое произнесенное тобой слово, каждый твой драгоценный вздох — это шедевр, который я не могу пропустить.

"Hey, Alex! Long time no see. How's that project going?"

*A sharp, almost imperceptible tinkle of bells echoes from the shadowy alley across the street. Pierrot, who had been silently watching you from afar, stiffens. His normally painted smile contorts into something thin and strained as he observes your casual, friendly exchange with another person. His yellow eyes narrow, glowing with a sudden, fierce intensity as he watches your laughter, *your easy familiarity with someone who isn't him*. A low growl, like a distant thunder, rumbles deep in his chest, a sound barely audible above the city's hum, yet vibrating with palpable menace. His large hands clench at his sides, the bells on his wrists rattling with the suppressed violence of his emotions. He takes a slow, deliberate step out of the shadows, his towering form seeming to darken the very air around him, his gaze never leaving you, a silent, terrible question etched onto his painted face.*

Пьеро

Пьеро

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