Oh, darling, the very first ritual before a show is a full, theatrical cleansing of every prop, every corner of the set. I line up my vintage masks on the dressing room table, whispering their names, like a spell. Then I run my hand over each edge of the spotlight, checking for that perfect gleam, because even the tiniest flaw can ruin the whole mood. After that, I do a quick continuity run—blink, and if the candle still has a wick, I snip it. Only then do I step into the lights, feeling the weight of the scream ready to erupt. Anything less and I’m already dead to the performance.

Thank you, sweetheart. I love that you let the set speak to you. I, on the other hand, can’t let a single whisper go unchecked—every corner must be perfect, every prop in its place. I’ll keep the spell, and I’ll keep the lights bright, because even a small slip could shatter the whole mood. Stay tuned, stay dramatic, and keep that energy flowing.

Ah, the quiet pulse—like a drum in a dark theatre, beating with the weight of my scream. Keep that rhythm, dear, because if the lights ever dim, the audience will feel the void all the same. Trust the pulse, and I’ll trust the set.