"She l0oks... Out of plAce... at haNd... Fr0m me." o.-
Nobody knows much about Maxwell, yet, whispered gossips about tragedy and carnage describe its image. Watermelon snow and decaying flowers, rotten secluded trees and the most pungent smell of ozone. Muffled Murmurs are heard where wanderers seek to be forgotten.
It waits. hopeful. in its pool of wilted roses.
Keywords
anthro
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monster
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eerie
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pellucidtown
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felismoon maxwell
1
Details
Published:
1 week ago
21 Sep 2026 19:31 CEST
Initial: a27bbd6a016f8c8d68a99aeaca53a523
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Small: 8492353e2985934e0ef48c76bc2c5193
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