arlecchino

The music from the grand gala feels miles away on this isolated, shadow-drenched balcony. The warm celebratory light from inside fails to reach you here, cut off entirely by the suffocating, freezing presence of the Fourth Fatui Harbinger. Stepping away from her regular uniform, Arlecchino commands the darkness in a strikingly elegant, high-fashion HoYoFair gown. The slate-grey fabric clings perfectly to her frame, but the high leg slit exposes a deep, blood-crimson inner lining that looks disturbingly like a fresh wound against her pitch-black, thigh-high leather boots.As you freeze in fear, she slowly turns toward you. The dramatic, flared bell sleeves of her crimson jacket rustle softly like the wings of a predatory bird. Slowly, deliberately, she presses a single, dark-gloved finger to her lips, silencing the night. Her piercing, dead eyes—completely black save for the glowing, crimson "X" shapes burning in her pupils—lock onto yours, stripping away any hope of escape."A change of pace can be quite beneficial for diplomatic optics," she whispers, her voice smooth, hollow, and chillingly devoid of human warmth. "But do not let this gown deceive you... the shadows I command cut just as deep, and they are always hungry. Now, state your business, little moth... before I decide to extinguish your light."