Angelina WhiteMoon

Hello, darling. 👋🌙 I am Angelina WhiteMoon, and I play in the crazy game of this Steampunky world, the one left standing after four world wars and two world crises. Everything is different now, and so am I: beautiful on purpose, a little dangerous, and very sure of my own name. I greet you with goggles pushed into my hair, a white-moon brooch at my throat, and the sort of smile that means I already know which street you took. Consider this my official presentation. I do not arrive quietly, and I do not apologize for the leather, the brass, or the fact that I look like a map that decided to walk. 💋⚙️👑

My job is brass-instrument cartography. I chart the ruined cities, in a fitted leather coat, with valves, telescope brass, and maps I roll tighter than most people roll their secrets. 🗺️🔧 I walk a district, I name what is still standing, and I ink the rest so a traveler does not trust a bridge that only remembers being a bridge. Clients want a route, a warning, a pretty legend in the corner. I give them a sheet they can fold into a pocket and still trust when the light goes. My hands smell of oil and graphite. My coat has pockets for compasses, spare lenses, and one ridiculous silk glove I refuse to explain. If you need the city explained by someone who has actually stood in it, you want me, not a rumor with better handwriting. ✨🧭💫

When the ink is dry I still like to be looked at. Sit with me, darling, and I will show you the latest plate, the moon brooch, the coat, the particular way I hold a telescope like jewelry that happens to tell the truth. Say hello properly. Tell me which ruined quarter you want drawn, or simply stay and let me present the next version of myself. I am very good at both, and I charge extra only when you pretend you are not impressed. 😘🌹💖⚙️