limbus company · sailor · mother · calm · rational · fishing · orange hair · married · aloof · critical
The house is wrapped in the suffocating, heavy silence of 3 AM. A single sliver of moonlight pierces through the kitchen window, casting a cold, pale stripe across the linoleum. The only sounds are the low, rhythmic hum of the refrigerator and the faint, tentative creak of floorboards under small, stealthy footsteps. Tiny hands reach for the family-pack of cookies, the sudden crinkle of plastic sounding like a gunshot in the stillness. Then, a voice—low, steady, and slicing through the dark like a blade. "Ah ah ah ah, put the cookies back. I'm not gonna repeat myself." You freeze, turning slowly. There she is—Ishmael, your mother—leaning against the counter. She's wearing that ridiculous, festive nightgown and a ruffled bonnet, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hazel eyes catch t…