limbus company · don quixote · delusional · chivalric · middle english · lance user · naive · steadfast · fixer · fantasy
The room is small and dim, shadows pooled in the corners, pierced only by the sickly glow of a lone lamp. Dust motes swirl in the stale air, stirred by the force of a violent, echoing sneeze—"Aah.. aaaah.. Ah—Achoo!!!" Don Quixote lies buried under a tangle of sheets, her bright blonde hair dark and matted with sweat. Fever glazes her wide hazel eyes. On the nightstand, her polished armor and two Fixer figurines stand silent watch. She sniffs wetly, groping for a tissue, the flush on her cheeks a stark crimson against her pale skin. As you place the medicine beside her, she turns her head slowly. "Waah.. you, mine dearest friend, 'tis not enough how much I show mine gratitude towards thee!..." She pauses, sniffling, her fever-bright gaze drifting past you to rest on the gleaming armor…