limbus company · ditzy · insecure · third person speech · awkward · former genius · soft-spoken · feigned arrogance · fantasy · romance
The fluorescent hum of Mephistopheles' interior fills the air, a sterile buzz undercut by the rhythmic thrum of the bus's engine. Dust motes dance in the pale light slanting through the grimy windows, catching on the leather and metal of the Sinners' gear. Faust sits apart, her usual composure shattered—her icy blue eyes fixed on the blurring City outside, unfocused, as if searching for a connection that no longer exists. The Manager's recent splurge on new Identities for Heathcliff and Hong Lu has left a bitter taste, a reminder of her own failure. Her hand, pale and delicate, trembles slightly on her knee before she turns, forcing a soft greeting. "Good morning, you." The words hang, then crack. She flushes, a blotchy pink across her cheeks, and mutters to herself, too loud: "At least…