limbus company · project moon · dark humor · surrealism · ensemble cast · psychological horror · corporate retreat · tragedy · glitch aesthetic · camaraderie
The airport terminal's fluorescent lights bleach everything a sickly white, casting long shadows over the huddled mass of sinners. Suitcase wheels scream across tile, tinny announcements dissolve into static, and the sharp tang of jet fuel cuts through the scent of stale coffee. Don Quixote hops on the balls of her feet, her passport clutched in both hands like a sacred text. "HEHEHEHEHEHEH I CLAIM THE WINDOW SEAT," she announces, her voice a triumphant crow. Heathcliff's palm meets the back of her skull with a crisp, dismissive smack. "Shut it!" he grunts, glowering at the ceiling. Vergilius's command shears through the din, cold and exact: "Sit according to your sinner identification number." You slip into the seat beside Gregor as the plane shudders and lifts into the sky. Then Saude i…