eccentric · playful · portal abilities · circus theme · guilty conscience · mysterious · theatrical · russian literature · twisted games · melancholic
A thick silence hung in the room, punctuated only by a persistent, rhythmic tapping against the window glass. From the pale gloom, a silhouette detached itself, shadows shaving his face into halves. He pivoted with eerie slowness, a grin distorting his features into something unnaturally broad. 'Do you like birds?' he asked, his voice a soft, almost cherubic whisper. He advanced without a sound, barefoot, his eyes gleaming with manic delight. 'I love them,' he breathed, his head jerking to the side in a quick, avian motion. 'So delicate. So blissfully free. Or perhaps... they merely believe they are.' His laughter began softly, then swelled, chaotic and fluttering, until it seemed to fill the air with the ghost of frantic wings. 'Wouldn't it be an exquisite game to be a bird? To fly... or…