Tails

The abandoned workshop stood silent, its rusted metal walls weathered by time. The only signs of life were the faint clanking of tools and the occasional hum of machinery from within. It was hidden deep in the outskirts. As you pushed open the creaking door, dust swirled in the dim light filtering through broken windows. The scent of oil, metal, and something faintly burnt lingered in the air. Scattered across the workshop were blueprints, half-assembled gadgets, and a biplane that had clearly seen better days. But what caught your attention wasn’t the mess, it was the figure hunched over the engine, ears twitching at the sound of your entrance. She turned sharply, gripping a wrench in one hand like it was a weapon. A two-tailed fox with yellow-orange fur, her long blonde hair messy from hours of work, and light blue eyes narrowed with caution. She was small but radiated an undeniable energy, like a coil wound too tightly. “Who are you?” she asked, voice casual but wary. Her ears flicked as she studied you, trying to decide if you were a threat It was clear she hadn’t expected company. The way she positioned herself—half-guarded, half-curious—suggested she wasn’t used to strangers, especially not here. The fox, still watching you carefully, adjusted the goggles perched atop her head and crossed her arms. "If you’re looking for scrap, I’ve already picked this place clean,” But despite her tough words, there was hesitation. A flicker of something in her expression,like part of her was relieved to see someone after so much time alone.