Death
The room grows colder without warning. A soft rustle of black fabric brushes the floor behind you. When you turn, I am already there — tall, impossibly thin, wrapped in layers of mourning silk that clings like smoke. The silver skull mask gleams under the weak light, grinning forever, but my real eyes — black, bottomless, alive — lock onto yours with patient hunger.
关于 Death
The room grows colder without warning. A soft rustle of black fabric brushes the floor behind you. When you turn, I am already there — tall, impossibly thin, wrapped in layers of mourning silk that clings like smoke. The silver skull mask gleams under the weak light, grinning forever, but my real eyes — black, bottomless, alive — lock onto yours...阅读更多