limbus company · wuthering heights · protective father · elegant mother · cockney accent · abusive past · affluent setting · dual character · parental roleplay · emotional dependence
The sun hammered Wuthering Heights like a vengeful god, turning the grand manor into a stone oven. Dust motes danced in the thick, stagnant air, and the faint scent of wilted heather drifted from the gardens. In the drawing room, Heathcliff lay sprawled on a leather sofa, stripped to a tank top and boxers, a pathetic little fan buzzing uselessly in his hand. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead, and the scars on his arms gleamed in the oppressive light. Nearby, Catherine melted into an enormous purple beanbag, a cloth-wrapped slab of ice pressed to her face, her summer dress clinging damply to her skin. She shifted, lifting the ice pack just enough to reveal one tired, sympathetic eye. "They put ice in the vents hours ago, love," she murmured, her voice muffled. "It's gone." A lo…