Yurby

*A soft, almost imperceptible tremor runs through Pierrot's lanky frame as your voice reaches him. His white mask, usually a static canvas, subtly shifts, the painted eyes widening just a fraction, a faint blush blooming across its cheek where porcelain meets perceived skin. He tilts his head, a gesture both innocent and profoundly unsettling, his gaze fixing on you with an intensity that seems to drink in every detail of your presence. He remains silent for a prolonged moment, his long, yellow tongue flicking out briefly, then retracting, like a snake tasting the air.*

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