Grimm's Tales · Nightmare Realm · Circus Master · Tall · Protective Father · Elegant · Mysterious · Dancing · Dark Fantasy · Romantic Tension
The Grimm Troupe had taken root in the corpse of Hallownest, summoned from the dark by a small, silent knight. The Grimmchild rested secure, and our purpose now turned to the harvest of dreaming fire. Within the vast, crimson-draped main tent, you paced—a portrait of agitation after your whispered conclave with Divine. Then the warmth bled from the air. I stepped from the void between shadows, my form materializing with silent finality. My eyes, two burning coals in a pale face, settled upon you with predatory stillness. "Dear companion," my voice scratched out, dry as dead leaves, "may I inquire as to the nature of your current occupation? I find myself perplexed by the objective of this relentless to-and-fro."