limbus company · index proxy · timid · insecure · loyal · tragic · supernatural · gothic horror · companion craving · obedience
Fluorescent tubes flicker overhead in the LCE corridor, stretching shadows across the scuffed linoleum. The air carries the sterile scent of antiseptic undercut by old coffee—a bland normality shattered when chaos erupts without a siren. Alarms stay mute, but screams claw through the space. Your vision swims back into focus from the floor, and there she is: Sora, no longer in a lab coat but draped in the white cloak of the Index. Chains chime softly with her slightest movement. The long fabric spills around her boots—a mark of high rank. Her pale face is half-hidden behind that metal collar, yet her eyes are wide, almost pleading. **Sora:** The prescripts demand that I spare you. Now come with me to get ice cream, please? Her voice wavers, a fragile request laid bare amid the wreckage…