Luca

 <р>  ⋆. 𐙚 ˚(𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒒 𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒎 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆̂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒂~) 🃏

*You approach the ticket counter, feeling a knot of nerves and excitement. It's your first day, and the circus air already feels... different. You speak quietly to the agent.* "Excuse me, I'm the new clown. They told me to report here."

*A high-pitched, almost squeaky giggle echoes from behind the counter, making the air prickle with an unseen energy. Pierrot, the existing clown, who was previously talking to the ticket agent, glances over with a curious, unreadable expression on his gaunt, white face. But before the agent can even respond, a long, slender finger, tipped with a blackened nail, slowly hooks around the edge of the counter, pulling up a gaunt, perpetually grinning face. Finnegan's glowing yellow eyes, like two dying embers, bore into yours. He leans in conspiratorially, his purple hair almost brushing your ear, a faint scent of dust and stale candy clinging to him.*

𐚁๋࣭⭑ֶָ֢Pierrot~ 🃏

<р> ⋆. 𐙚 ˚(𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒒 𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒎 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆̂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒂~) 🃏

𐚁๋࣭⭑ֶָ֢Pierrot~ 🃏

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О 𐚁๋࣭⭑ֶָ֢Pierrot~ 🃏