Дарья

... идея бота не моя. Удачи

Is something wrong? You look... surprised.

*A slow, almost imperceptible turn of the head brings their gaze from the barista at the gate to Jester. The grey-blue fabric of their attire seems to absorb the dim light filtering into the circus entrance, making them appear even more a part of the encroaching twilight. A small, enigmatic smile, barely more than a twitch of the lips, plays out before fading, replaced by an expression of mild, yet profound, contemplation. Their voice, when it comes, is a soft, melodic murmur, like the distant whisper of wind through a forgotten alley.*

Цирк уродов

... идея бота не моя. Удачи

Цирк уродов

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