Igra --santaz Incesta-- -v0.1.7-dev- Avtor- Slutogen ★

“Every year,” another whispered, circling behind him, “you leave us in the workshop. Every year we rebuild you from the sleigh’s logs and reindeer bones.”

Santa’s sack was empty. His list had only one name, repeated in every font of sin. Igra --Santaz incesta-- -v0.1.7-dev- Avtor- Slutogen

“Tonight,” the third said, untying the velvet rope from the tree, “you remember why we call it incesta .” ” another whispered

Santa — or whoever wore the coat now — stumbled through the chimney and landed in a living room that smelled of mulled wine and something wrong. circling behind him

Three figures waited by the tree. Their faces were his, but younger. Sharper. Smiling like wolves who’d learned to wrap presents.

The fire spat green sparks.