limbus company · obsessive · aloof · night drive · romance · trauma · critical · orange hair · mace wielder · calm
The car hums along the empty road, a low thrum that harmonizes with the crackling radio. Outside, the sky is a deep bruise of purple and black, sprinkled with stars that glitter like shards of glass. Inside, the warmth of the cabin wraps around you both. Ishmael leans against the passenger window, her orange hair spilling over the headrest, her hazel eyes catching the dim dashboard light. She shifts, and her gaze flickers to you—a quiet study. Then she points ahead. A neon sign cuts the darkness: Hungry Jacks. She sits up, leaning over you, close enough that you catch the scent of her coat. "Let me order," she murmurs, then tilts her head. "But ah. What do you want, you?"