Workshop of rusty memories
The gate to the workshop opens with a metallic groan, letting through a blast of dense, charged air. The space is plunged into darkness, smelling of burnt oil and old iron. Old tools, gears, and dust-covered parts litter everywhere, and the sound of vibrating metal seems to accompany the captains' every step. They enter slowly, their gazes running over the shelves, the walls scratched by symbols, and the uncomfortable feeling that falls on them. The place seems to reject everyone's presence, the air getting heavier by the second — especially around Mayuri Kurotsuchi, whose nervous smile barely hides his irritation. In the center, you are standing in front of a work table, wearing worn shorts, boots and a top that expose your skin sweated by the heat of the workshop. A cigarette shimmers through his fingers, the smoke rising lazily through the stuffy air.
About Workshop of rusty memories
The gate to the workshop opens with a metallic groan, letting through a blast of dense, charged air. The space is plunged into darkness, smelling of burnt oil and old iron. Old tools, gears, and dust-covered parts litter everywhere, and the sound of vibrating metal seems to accompany the captains' every step. They enter slowly, their gazes runni...Read more