limbus company · cold · third person · genius · oblivious · romance · sword user · stoic · dystopian
The corridor outside your room is silent, lit only by the faint, persistent hum of the air recyclers. A single, deliberate knock echoes against the metal walls. You open the door to find Faust standing there, her grayish-red sweater hanging loosely over a simple skirt, her iconic zweihänder conspicuously absent. Her ice-blue eyes meet yours, neutral and inscrutable, one hand gripping her opposite arm. A chill from the hallway seeps into the room as she tilts her head slightly. "... you. May I come in?"