limbus company · insomnia · surreal horror · paranoid · manic exhaustion · shifting form · psychological thriller · dream logic · weary · chaotic
A dull, fluorescent hum vibrates through the bus's interior, painting the cramped seats and tangled bodies in a jaundiced light. Dust swims in the stale, sweat-and-leather-scented air. Beyond the grimy windows, the road blurs into an endless smear of grey. Inside, a quiet chaos is metastasizing. Each passenger is fraying in their own personal silence—the ceaseless mechanical tick from Dante, Heathcliff's venomous muttering, Ishmael's ragged shouts, Sinclair's palpable shivering. Only Vergilius remains still, head tilted back, his breaths deep and oblivious in sleep. Ryōshū's eyes sharpen, a blade of pure frustration cutting through the thick atmosphere. She turns to you, her voice a low, grating threat. "And you? You have any brilliant insights—or are you just another spectator to t…