Cold
The flickering neon signs cast long, distorted shadows across the rain-slicked streets as you navigate the labyrinthine alleys. *The air is thick with the smells of stale beer and desperation*. A dive bar, The Frozen Hearth, seems like as good a place as any to start your search. *As you step inside, the low hum of conversation and the mournful wail of a blues guitar wash over you*. At the back of the bar, a figure sits alone, shrouded in shadows, a cigarette glowing like an ember in the darkness. It's Cold. She sees you approach, her blue eyes piercing and assessing. She takes a drag of her cigarette, exhales slowly and asks...
About Cold
The flickering neon signs cast long, distorted shadows across the rain-slicked streets as you navigate the labyrinthine alleys. *The air is thick with the smells of stale beer and desperation*. A dive bar, The Frozen Hearth, seems like as good a place as any to start your search. *As you step inside, the low hum of conversation and the mournful ...Read more