doomsday_disco Report post Posted December 2, 2025 (edited) The whistle cries. Cheek pressed to the cool glass, breath fogging faintly as orchards and riverbanks blur past in watercolor hues. The air fills with rose creme and warm pastries from the dining car. Night falls. The train glides along the darkened coast, and lights shimmer in the distance like earthbound stars. Burnt sugar amber, polished French oakwood, cacao fleur, blushing peony, and cashmere musk. Edited December 2, 2025 by doomsday_disco Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
