Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ Down at the docks, a lanky man in a soaked shirt whispered about a rare creature alighting right atop his head, a crooked grin flashing as he urged someone close by to “get a pic.” The humid air wrapped tight, the bayou’s slow breath stirring shadows under a peeling streetlamp, while a woman watched from a balcony, her eyes sharp, unblinking. ░▒
▒░ And that wasn’t the only thing stirring through the thick fog—voices claim strange sounds haunt the bayou’s edge after dark, and more souls vanish without a trace, stirring Syndicate whispers of secrets darker than the marsh mud, puppets and strings tangled in the mist. ░▒
░▒░ The woman on the balcony, face half-hidden by moonlight and moss, caught the tale but said nothing, just a slow blink before glancing toward the door—what’s she waiting for, and who’s coming for her next? ░▒
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