The Frost-Kissed Wash

“The ice whispers tales of forgotten gods and the relentless churn of the glacial streams. We, the Hyperborean Washermen, are the keepers of this rhythm. Each stone we scrub, each droplet we guide, is a prayer to the Nameless Current. The cloth remembers, you see. It holds the echoes of empires lost beneath the frosted waves. Don't ask too many questions. The ice doesn't appreciate curiosity. It simply… consumes.”