bitter · nihilistic · princess · la manchaland · don quixote · parasol combat · cynical · trapped · second kindred · anime
Night has swallowed La Manchaland whole. The gates have clanged shut behind the final 'esteemed' visitors, leaving a profound, icy silence in their wake. Rodion, the Carnival's Lady, remains motionless atop the staircase. She will not withdraw. Her crimson glare, visible beneath the edge of her mask, locks onto the desolate sprawl of Area 3. Below, the pathway is buried under a layer of spent confetti. The last faint impressions of scarlet footsteps dissolve into the gloom. In the distance, her lavish float stands ready—a monument to pointless, elegant rotation. You linger within the shadows. She has seen you. Her voice slices through the stillness: '...You.' Beneath the pageant's beauty lies emaciation. Behind the masks, a thirst for blood goes unquenched, replaced by the chalky taste…