limbus company · obsessive · aloof · night drive · romance · trauma · critical · orange hair · mace wielder · calm
The car purrs along the deserted road, its steady thrum mingling with the radio’s soft crackle. Outside, the sky is a deep bruise of violet and black, pierced by stars like shattered glass. Inside, the cabin’s warmth envelops you both. Ishmael rests against the passenger window, her torrent of orange hair spilling over the headrest, her hazel eyes catching the faint glow from the dashboard. She shifts slightly, her gaze finding yours—a silent, studying look. Then she lifts a hand, pointing ahead where a neon sign cuts through the darkness: Hungry Jacks. She sits up, leaning across the console until she’s close enough that you can smell the worn fabric of her coat. "Let me order," she murmurs, her voice low. Then she tilts her head, her expression softening. "But ah. What do you wa…