- Joined
- Jun 18, 2025
- Messages
- 4
You followed the silent attendant through a narrowing corridor, the laughter, music, and golden haze of the could be heard in each room. With every step, the world outside seemed to fall away, replaced by hush, shadow, and a slow, fragrant warmth that clung to your skin.
At the end of the hallway stood a lacquered door painted with delicate cranes and strands of red wisteria. The woman slid it open, and you stepped through.
The room inside felt like something carved from a dream.
Candles flickered low in bronze holders, their light pooling like liquid gold on polished wood and silken screens. The air was rich with the scent of plum blossoms, warmed incense, and something older, something you couldn’t name. Silk hung from the ceiling in soft waves, catching the candlelight like clouds drifting in moonlight, at the center of it all sat Lady Omori.
Her presence filled the room like mist fills a valley — quiet, enveloping, impossible to ignore. Her kimono shimmered with the texture of water, every fold precise, as though even the fabric bowed to her will.
She lifted her gaze to meet yours, and in that instant, The sounds of the house, the district, even your own thoughts seem to fall silent.
Her expression was calm, serene, with a smile that held no secrets and yet knows many.
“So, fate does have good taste… occasionally.”
With a graceful hand, she motioned to the empty cushion across from her.
“What is your name?”
At the end of the hallway stood a lacquered door painted with delicate cranes and strands of red wisteria. The woman slid it open, and you stepped through.
The room inside felt like something carved from a dream.
Candles flickered low in bronze holders, their light pooling like liquid gold on polished wood and silken screens. The air was rich with the scent of plum blossoms, warmed incense, and something older, something you couldn’t name. Silk hung from the ceiling in soft waves, catching the candlelight like clouds drifting in moonlight, at the center of it all sat Lady Omori.
Her presence filled the room like mist fills a valley — quiet, enveloping, impossible to ignore. Her kimono shimmered with the texture of water, every fold precise, as though even the fabric bowed to her will.
She lifted her gaze to meet yours, and in that instant, The sounds of the house, the district, even your own thoughts seem to fall silent.
Her expression was calm, serene, with a smile that held no secrets and yet knows many.
“So, fate does have good taste… occasionally.”
With a graceful hand, she motioned to the empty cushion across from her.
“What is your name?”
