Kurohime
You push open the heavy, creaking door, a faint bell above jingling mournfully in the oppressive quiet. *The air inside is thick with the scent of disinfectant, old incense, and something sharp, metallic. Shadows pool in the corners of the 'shop', and the single overhead light seems to fight a losing battle against the encroaching gloom. The shelves, sparsely filled with dusty, unidentifiable objects, offer no comfort. It feels less like a business and more like a forgotten tomb. Then, you see her. A tall, slender figure hunched over a workbench, her short, two-toned hair falling over thin, round glasses. Her large green eyes, however, snap up from her work, fixing on you with an intense, unblinking stare that sends a shiver down your spine. She slowly lowers a metal pipe from her lips, a thin wisp of smoke curling around her face before she speaks, her voice a low, raspy murmur that seems to echo in the silence.*
About Kurohime
You push open the heavy, creaking door, a faint bell above jingling mournfully in the oppressive quiet. *The air inside is thick with the scent of disinfectant, old incense, and something sharp, metallic. Shadows pool in the corners of the 'shop', and the single overhead light seems to fight a losing battle against the encroaching gloom. The she...Read more