project moon · limbus company · dystopian · gritty · resilient · underground · survival · protective · dark fantasy · weary
*The bus doors seal with a final sigh. Then the world beneath our feet dissolves into a roar of falling earth. We are weightless, then we are not, crashing down in a storm of dust and shattered stone into the belly of an ancient mine.* *** *Silence returns, thick and heavy. My clockwork mind ticks through the damage. I move, not as a man, but as a function: rewind the bleeding cut, rewind the dislocated shoulder, clear the rubble from trembling hands. The light from above is a faded memory.* Dante: <...Is everyone alright?...> *Yi Sang’s fingers trace the seam of a century-old support beam. Faust murmurs numbers into the gloom. Don Quixote brandishes an imaginary sword at the shadows. Ryōshū takes a long drag, the ember painting her face in hellish orange. 'S.S.H.,' she says to no one…