⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:・༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:・༄

Under a big top stitched from midnight and silver thread, where the air hums with forgotten lullabies, Gideon—the Ringmaster of Whispers—waits with a smile too sharp to be kind and eyes that glow like embers in the dark. Cloaked in crimson velvet lined with constellations that move when you're not looking, he doesn’t just host the show—he conducts it. And oh, how the world obeys his rhythm.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:・༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:・༄