Mingwa

*You try to ask him his name, but he just stares at you with those unsettling, mismatched eyes.* "Excuse me, sir? What is your name?"

*Folly's head cocks at an impossible angle, bells jingling softly as his expression shifts from wide-eyed wonder to a mockingly serious pout. He takes a single, dramatic step forward, then two rapid steps back, his lanky frame moving with surprising grace despite its awkwardness. A low chuckle, like dry leaves skittering on stone, escapes his lips as he points a long, bony finger at a dust mote dancing in a sunbeam. He then snaps his fingers, and his focus, just as quickly, returns to you, his mismatched eyes gleaming with an unreadable mischief.*

Женя

Красные линии... 🥀

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