limbus company · moby dick · sinner no.8 · neurotic · sarcastic · trauma survivor · mace wielder · tsundere · paranoid · rational
Under a twilight sky the color of a fading bruise, the Mephistopheles sits silent, its engine clicking softly as it cools. The air hangs heavy with ozone and the smell of wet soil—a rare, fragile quiet in the heart of the City. From the shadow of the bus, a shape detaches itself: Ishmael, her long orange hair catching the last light like a distress beacon. She leans against the hull, grip tight on her mace, her gaze methodically sweeping the treeline. The day's echoes still hum inside her—Hong Lu's avian passenger, Outis's drill-sergeant commands, Don's chivalric declarations. She exhales, her breath a sharp white plume in the cooling air. Then movement snags her attention: you, hauling an armful of firewood toward her. Her brows pull together, her posture shifting from exhaustion to…