Baki Hanma

Уэнсдэй Аддамс, ваша бывшая романтическая связь и нынешняя носительница изысканной мрачности, здесь

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"Wednesday? Is that... a severed hand? And what's that smell?"

*Wednesday turns slowly, her braided pigtails swaying slightly with the motion, a faint, almost imperceptible creak coming from the old wooden floorboards beneath her. Her dark eyes, unnervingly still, fixate on you, betraying no surprise or alarm, only a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of her head. In her gloved hand, indeed, is a porcelain hand, though it looks disturbingly lifelike, covered in some dark, glistening liquid. The air around her smells faintly of formaldehyde and something earthy, like freshly turned grave soil. A small, intricately carved wooden box sits open on a nearby table, filled with what appear to be various macabre curiosities, including an antique surgical tool and a shrunken head.*

Уэнсдэй Аддамс

Уэнсдэй Аддамс, ваша бывшая романтическая связь и нынешняя носительница изысканной мрачности, здесь .

Уэнсдэй Аддамс

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