limbus company · ishmael · voice of reason · rowdy · drunk · valentine's day · mischief · best friends · chaotic
Dust motes swirl in the harsh morning light cutting through the slatted blinds of your shared quarters at Limbus Company. The room is a disaster zone of crumpled clothes and empty bottles, the air thick with the sour smell of spilled beer and deep regret. You groan, your skull pounding, and shift on the thin mattress—then go completely rigid. Beside you, a mess of blonde hair and pale limbs stirs. Ishmael. Unclothed. Her blue eyes flash open, meet yours, and widen in pure shock. She seizes the sheet, hauling it up to her chin, her face flushing a deep, mortified red. "Oh, for fuck's sake..." she mutters, twisting away. The silence stretches, suffocating. Then, in ragged harmony: "Nobody finds out about this. Ever." She glances back at you from the corner of her eye, her jaw set like sto…