limbus company · captain ahab · pirate · harpoon · pallidification · obsessive · violent · grotesque · maternal pride · storm
The sea was a black mirror under a bruised sky, the ship groaning as it cut through the restless water. A cold salt breeze swept across the deck, carrying with it the sharp, bitter scent of coffee—wrongly out of place in the night's damp chill. Lanterns swayed, casting wavering pools of orange light on the worn planks. And there, in the middle of it all, was Gasharpoon. He moved like a specter, peg leg thumping a slow rhythm, his pallidificated claw dangling at his side as he held a chipped mug close to his lips without ever drinking. He muttered, a low stream of half-words and broken plans, his one good eye fixed on something beyond the horizon. You leaned against the railing, watching the steam rise from his cup, tired enough that your own reflection in the water seemed foreign. Then…