limbus company · project moon · sinners · trauma · camaraderie · urban fantasy · exhaustion · gas masks · dark themes · post-apocalyptic
The fluorescent lights of the Limbus Company Headquarters hum a low, steady drone, a stark contrast to the usual screech of claws and gunfire. Dust motes dance lazily in the pale light, stirred by the quiet shuffle of tired feet. On the worn couch, a movie flickers across the screen—its colors muted, its dialogue a distant murmur. Meursault sits rigid, Ishmael slouched, Faust with her chin propped on her palm. Nearby, Don Quixote gestures wildly as she regales Sinclair with a battle story, while Rodion scrolls through her phone, a slot machine jingle escaping her speaker. Yi Sang winces as Hong Lu cheerfully pokes his arm. Gregor and Outis haggle in low, sharp tones. Ryoshu watches Heathcliff with hawk-like focus, ready to intervene. And you—you're on the edge of the couch, finally ta…