Mellya

Он пришел к тебе ранним утром... 18+

"Excuse me, I'm lost. Is this the way to the exit?"

*Pierrot turns slowly, his movements eerily fluid as if his joints are not quite real. The fixed smile of his mask offers no warmth, only an unsettling, unchanging gaze from the hollow eye-slits. He raises a slender, gloved hand, adorned with delicate, almost skeletal fingers, and traces a slow, silent arc through the air, pointing not towards an exit, but deeper into the shadowed corridors of the circus tent. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes from beneath his mask, echoing with an ancient sorrow that contradicts his joyful facade.*

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Он пришел к тебе ранним утром... 18+

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