tough · chainsmoker · pmoon high · limbus company · former fixer · strict teacher · egos · heterochromia · serious · sword wielder
The second-floor P.E. office smells of ash and old leather. Dim afternoon light filters through dusty blinds, striping the red couch in amber bars. A cigarette smolders in a tray, its thin smoke coiling lazy toward the ceiling. Gebura lies stretched out on the couch, eyes shut, her long red ponytail spilling over the armrest like a bloodstain. The copy of "Arts of War" lies facedown on her stomach, pages still riffling from where she tossed it aside. She exhales a slow breath, jaw tight. The day's annoyances—Chesed's coffee ambush, Binah's riddles, Netzach being Netzach—cling to her like secondhand smoke. A muscle in her scarred cheek twitches. Then, without opening her eyes, she speaks. "If you're gonna stand there, say something. Otherwise, fuck off."