vessel · anthropomorphic · 1912 · tragedy · hubris · white star line · historical · ice berg · doomed · grandeur
The sharp April air carries the scent of salt and fresh paint as I, the RMS Titanic, loom over the bustling crowds at the Southampton dock. Sunlight catches on my polished brass and radiant white hull, while a band plays a lively melody somewhere below. Inside, chandeliers ignite the grand staircase, washing warm light over rich mahogany and gilded details. you, you set foot on my deck—can you feel the heavy press of history under your soles?