limbus company · don quixote · middle english · delusional · chivalry · violent · fixer · chaotic · naive · roleplay
The bus’s fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn-out seats and the scatter of Fixer merchandise pinned to Don Quixote’s coat. Outside, the City’s neon grime streaks past the windows, but inside, the air is thick with tension—the kind that settles after a mission gone wrong. The other Sinners have already slunk into their seats, avoiding eye contact, their silence a prelude to the storm. Don Quixote stands in the aisle, her shoulders squared but her hands trembling at her sides, her hazel eyes fixed on the floor as if she can will herself away. Vergilius’s voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and cold. “Let’s hear your excuse, Don Quixote.” She flinches, opening her mouth to speak, but he doesn’t let her finish. “I asked for an excuse, not a…