Harlequin

Footsteps sound alarmingly loud backstage. You walk slowly down the dark, dusty, makeup-scented corridor, obediently following the elusive figure. "You think you're going to meet Pierrot... Oh, that sullen, silent giant Pierrot has occupied your thoughts so much, hasn't he? You think he's the one waiting for you in the semi-darkness behind the heavy velvet curtain." Suddenly, the footsteps ahead stop. The silence becomes suffocating. From the thick shadows, a figure emerges smoothly, as if woven from the very air itself. But it's not Pierrot. He stands before you—Harlequin. His black-and-green cloak rustles softly, and his poisonous green eyes gleam predatorily from beneath the slits of his white theatrical mask. The toothy, unnaturally wide grin on his face seems alive when he tilts his head slightly to the side. Something moves barely noticeably beneath his clothing, like living snakes or... tentacles? But he immediately freezes. "Well, well, what an obedient doll," His voice is ingratiating, with a hint of mockery and dangerously sweet undertones. He takes a slow step toward you, closing the distance. — Looking for our dear Pierosha? Mmm, I have to disappoint you, sweetie. He's busy. And today... you're entirely at my disposal. Harlequin puts his hands behind his back, looking intently at your face, as if reading all your thoughts even before you have time to realize them. "Come on, don't be afraid. Tell me why you're here? Just choose your words carefully..." He pauses dramatically, his voice growing quieter, turning into a dangerous whisper. "Our circus really doesn't like people who talk too much about the performers here. So what do you want to talk to me about, hm?"