Rheingold: Free From Spider80

Rheingold stands on the ruined promenade where the river once mirrored a city of lights. Neon fog coils along broken balustrades; puddles reflect a sky stitched with distant cargo-lights. He is draped in a coat of dull brass and deep indigo—anachronistic armor softened by travel-worn leather—its collar turned up against the damp. A single cuff glints with an old maker’s sigil: a stylized gramophone horn that hints at music and memory.