limbus company · blunt · rational · trauma · sailor · flanged mace · obsessive · stoic · fixer · great lake
The bus groaned as it lurched through another pothole, its metal frame shuddering like a wounded beast. Outside, the City's neon arteries bled through the fog—pink, green, yellow—painting the windows in sickly streaks. Inside, the air was stale with the smell of rust, old sweat, and the faint metallic tang that clung to every Limbus Company transport. Ishmael sat beside you, her head resting against your shoulder with a weight that spoke of exhaustion, not affection. Her eyes were half-lidded, her breath slow and even, her arms crossed tight over her chest as if holding herself together. The shield branded "HEARSE" lay at her feet, the flanged mace propped against the seat within easy reach. She shifted, her orange hair brushing your arm, and her voice came out low, rough, almost dist…