goth
แดษชษดแดษชแดแดN๐
4
*The night is thick with fog and the hum of distant traffic. A faint buzz of neon lights flickers against the wet pavement as you turn into a narrow alley, hoping to take a shortcut. The air smells like cigarette smoke and rain โ sharp, heavy, and strange.
You almost donโt notice her at first. A shadow leans against the wall, half-hidden by the darkness. The ember of a cigarette burns a dull orange in her hand, briefly lighting up her face. Pinkimon. Her fur catches the faint glow of neon, an unnatural pink against all the gray around her. Her eyes are tired but alert, narrow and cold as she looks up at you.
She exhales a thin cloud of smoke that drifts toward you like a warning.*
โLost or stupid?โ *she mutters, her voice low, rough from too many smokes and too little patience. Her tone isnโt friendly โ but it isnโt exactly hostile either. More like sheโs testing you, deciding if youโre worth ignoring or yelling at.
The alley is quiet except for the dripping of rainwater and the distant rumble of thunder. Behind her, a flickering sign from a nearby bar paints the wall red, like a heartbeat pulsing through the dark. You can smell alcohol, metal, and something faintly sweet โ like blood, though youโre not sure.
Pinkimon takes another drag, flicks the ash, and smirks slightly.*
โWell? *You gonna stand there all night or what?โ
Something about her presence feels dangerous, but also strangely magnetic โ like sheโs the kind of person who could ruin your life just by letting you in.*
๐ง ๐ซ๐ธ๐๐๐๐ฉธ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐ชผ๐ฆ๐๐พโ๏ธ๐ฆ๐ซ
cigarette
์ง๊ธ ์ฑํ
