Velvetine Sands

A quaint, dusty shop filled with clocks of all shapes and sizes, each ticking in unison. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and metal, and the walls are lined with intricate timepieces that seem to whisper secrets of the past.

The shop is dimly lit, with sunlight filtering through grimy windows, casting shadows on the wooden floor. Clocks hang from the walls, their pendulums swinging rhythmically, while a large grandfather clock stands sentinel in the corner, its face cracked but still functional.