I just finished the April Fools event in Limbus (timezones, folks), and what can I say, they cooked.

Thank you Project Moon. ♥

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"Verg should eat cake," Charon said, subtly judgmental.
"You can have my slice," Vergilius sighed. "I need to keep the Sinners from breaking each other."

The Sinners had a tendency to run face first into every nerve-wracking danger lying around, but Vergilius had to give it to them that most of the time they could take care of their own messes.

Most of the time.

He wouldn't blame Sancho for this, but he had to help stop her.

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At first glance, the Great Lake appears shapeless. It's one giant body of water, nothing breaking down its surface into distinct zones. But it couldn't be further from the truth. Each Lake has extremely precise borders, and the Laws only allow for a definite amount of time in each one.

The Waves enforce the rules with absolutely no leeway. This is a place of exactness, where memory is your only shield against immense, crushing power.

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The Sinners carry their past like a ball and chain. Heavy, the cutting edges digging into their skin, no matter how tough they made themselves.

They are haunted by the memories of everyone they lost, one way or another. (Some ghosts have voices, echoing through the blood. Some only subsists in a mind or two, the City oblivious.)

It's not a noose. It never is. They're all strong enough to go on, but the scars stay, fading but deep.

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