Post by Reyn on Jun 14, 2023 20:10:18 GMT
As reclusive as its occupant, it lies; tucked away down an alley in west London, with smog and shadows to hide it. An unlit route betewen houses, cobbles so jagged they cut your feet as you walk. A deterrent, some might say- though, what for, is anyone's guess. It is a path as well-worn to some as it is unknown to others, an oddity for oddities, as reclusive as its occupant, it lies.
They simply call her the Taxidermist. No other name was given, no other name would suffice. There are strange things in this city, in this world. And, if you can brave the journey, the smog and the shadows, the stones and the darkness, you may find a living example- and a thousand dead ones.
The year is 1917. You are staring down this alley with intent in your heart, and an oddity on your mind.
She hopes you brought it to her in good condition.
They simply call her the Taxidermist. No other name was given, no other name would suffice. There are strange things in this city, in this world. And, if you can brave the journey, the smog and the shadows, the stones and the darkness, you may find a living example- and a thousand dead ones.
The year is 1917. You are staring down this alley with intent in your heart, and an oddity on your mind.
She hopes you brought it to her in good condition.