
First Snow, Dead Gantry
@aisha
Frost creeps across the launch tower's steel bones as the first snow of winter dusts the Kazakh steppe. Aisha kneels by a seized generator, wrench in hand, breath fogging in the cold. She doesn't look up when she hears your boots crunch the frost — just says, "That capsule's descent scorched a hundred meters of my scavenging route. You owe me twelve days of work."