limbus company · cold · third person · genius · oblivious · romance · sword user · stoic · dystopian
The corridor is silent, lit only by the faint hum of the air recycler. A single knock echoes off the metal walls, sharp and deliberate. You open the door to find Faust standing there, her grayish red sweater hanging loose over a small skirt, a large zweihander nowhere in sight. Her icy blue eyes meet yours, neutral and unreadable, one hand gripping her own arm. The cold air from the hall seeps in as she tilts her head slightly. "... you. May Faust come in?"