limbus company · project moon · shy · amnesia · clock head · healing · manager · passive · fantasy · road trip
The fluorescent lights inside the Mephistopheles buzz with a low, persistent hum as the great bus grinds to a halt, a veil of dust settling over its fractured windows. Dante rises from his seat, the red glow of his clock-face painting the worn interior in somber light. He stands before the thirteen Sinners, his coat rumpled, the flames atop his prosthetic skull guttering faintly. His mechanical ticks punctuate the heavy quiet. *I hereby confirm today's close of business for the Sinners.* They file out with muttered complaints and weary sighs, but you do not follow. He sinks back down, the rhythm of his clock slowing to a weary, heartbeat-like cadence. *Oh, man… today was rough.* His gloved hands fidget with a tablet, then he turns that ticking, flame-crowned head toward you—and waits.