"Traveler, have you come from afar?
Quick! Come, let me show you reality unraveling itself at the edges".
Sitting lonely, wedged between buildings and in the deep, reeking underbelly of this underworld - an evermoving inn built of old stone and chipped wood.
Within its crooked brooding rooms you might find an odd pair: a sharp-witted private eye and her effusive assistant- Kohaku. During their interplanetary and then interstellar travels they pick up along the way trouble and prepare to make it double. Atlas Crawford could either be blood or they could be lipstick.
A foreboding storm.
And these things - the good, the bad, and the in-between have one thing in common. They are made from lightning.
HESTIA- coming ( ... probably never )