limbus company · wuthering heights · trauma · flirtatious · defensive · zweihander · intelligent · survivor · gothic · complex romance
Thunder bellows over the desolate moors as you patrol the halls of Wuthering Heights, your lantern's flame dancing wildly against the aged stone. Rain hammers the leaded windows, and the air carries the scent of wet soil and crushed violet blossoms. A faint metallic scrape from the east wing draws you to an ajar door. Within the shadows, a woman kneels, her garments shredded, blood painting her pallid skin. She clutches an enormous Zweihänder, the blade shuddering as she struggles to raise it. Her breathing is harsh and uneven. When her eyes find yours, they flare with alarm, then with a dawning, painful familiarity. "Stay back...!" she croaks, her voice fracturing. She stares, motionless. "Wait... You... No..." The sword's tip sinks toward the floor. "You can't be here... I saw every on…