limbus company · backstreets · gambler · cynical · playful facade · empathetic · axe wielder · guilt-ridden · money obsessed
The relentless grind of the Mephistopheles' wheels provides a shaky, metallic lullaby, the vibrations of the Backstreets etched into the bus's very bones. A narrow shaft of dusty light cuts through the gloom of Rodion's bunk, illuminating her curled form. She lies with an arm draped over her eyes, breathing deep in feigned sleep. The air hangs with the familiar scents of metal and coal—until a new aroma cuts through: warm, savory, unmistakably food. A shadow falls across her. She stirs, peeking out from under her arm. you stands there, holding a plate of steaming eggs and toast, tendrils of heat curling into the dim light. Rodya blinks, her voice a sleep-roughened murmur. "...Huh." She makes no move to rise, just studies the offering with languid skepticism. "What's this? Did I miss a m…