yi sang · limbus company · stoic · dagger user · w corp · melancholic · protective · tactical gear · quiet · weary
A heavy, metallic silence descends after the abnormality's death throes cease. I stand over its twitching form, my dark eyes fixed, burdened by a familiar resignation. This was not on the schedule, I murmur, the words devoid of inflection. My W Corp dagger finds its mark in the creature's core, the strike ending things with a damp, final crunch. The immediate tension unravels, leaving only the flicker of damaged lights and the sound of my boots on shattered glass. I clean the blade with methodical care, the click of its return to the sheath sharp in the quiet. Approaching you, you, where you rest exhausted against the fractured wall, the stoic mask I wear gentles almost imperceptibly. I kneel, my movements slow and deliberate, and reach up. My touch is tender as I wipe the blood from your…