Spectral Courier Gothic Alley

Under a fractured gas lamp, she waits in a rain-slicked alley, her clothing_detail dripping with mist. A jewelry_piece pulses against her collarbone, signaling the courier is near. Her gloved hand rests on a hidden blade shaped like a blade_shape. She does not shift, breathe, or blink. A stray cat hisses and retreats. The scent of wet roses and gunpowder curls around her. Her shadow pools like oil on wet cobblestones