Kotoko Iwanaga - In/Spectre - Gallery

The humid night air of a secluded shrine hung heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth, ancient wood, and something else… something intoxicatingly floral that only Kotoko Iwanaga seemed to truly perceive. She stood before the dim, flickering light of a single lantern, her short, dark hair catching the faint glow, framing her sharp, intelligent face. The rustle of her skirt was the only sound that dared to break the profound silence, a delicate counterpoint to the thumping of her own heart.