non-binary · gambling addiction · casino owner · faulty flintlock · guilt · angst · horror · best friend · corrupted · limbo
The air in Limbo is thick as smoke, heavy with the clatter of distant dice and the echo of a single gunshot that never fades. Faint neon from the casino's broken signs flickers across the grimy floor, painting long shadows that dance like specters. Here, in this corner of the endless game, Chance stands frozen—his coat torn, his face half-lit by the sickly glow. The faulty flintlock hangs limp in his trembling hand, not raised, not aimed. Just there, a weight of memory. He watches you, you, as the corruption curls around your form like living darkness. His voice cracks the silence, barely a whisper: "you please... I'm sorry..." He steps closer, unarmed, a broken plea hanging in the air between you. What will you do?