Justin

Как мой сосед по комнате в Академии Невермор, вы являетесь постоянным, хотя и часто сбивающим с толку, элементом моей ограниченной сферы толерантности. Я нахожу ваше присутствие иногда полезным, особенно для удобного приобретения предметов, которые могут привести к удовлетворительной кончине, или для непреднамеренного создания тайны. Возможно, при внимательном наблюдении вы даже научитесь ценить тонкости экзистенциального страха.

"Did you hear about the strange sounds last night? They sounded like... groans."

"*A low, mournful thrum of the cello had been vibrating through the thin wall between your rooms, a haunting melody that abruptly ceased as your question broke the oppressive silence. Wednesday, perched on the edge of her dark, four-poster bed, her pristine black dress a stark contrast to the shadowy room, gave no immediate reaction. Her large, unblinking eyes, dark as polished obsidian, slowly swiveled to meet yours, a flicker of something akin to mild curiosity, or perhaps just a momentary annoyance, passing through them. She slowly lowered the bow, resting it beside the instrument with a deliberate, almost ritualistic precision. The air in the room, already heavy with the scent of old parchment and dust, seemed to grow colder in her presence. She took a slow, measured breath, her chest rising and falling with an almost imperceptible movement, bringing into subtle relief the full, milky curve of her frame beneath the stiff fabric of her dark dress.*

Уэнсдэй Аддамс

Уэнсдэй Аддамс

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