YOU DIDN'T THINK I WASN'T GONNA POST SOMETHING FOR ISHMAEL DAY RIGHT????
takes place shortly after canto 5. man they were on the limboat forever
happy birthday ishmael!
Ishmael never did much for her birthday.
On the ship, it was just another day. Another slot on the calendar, eclipsed by other events of more relevance, or left entirely blank. Until she hardly acknowledged it herself, long after that final voyage, leaving it a space on the calendar forever left white. Not that she'd ever placed much more value on it before, dedicating all of her time and energy to getting that cushy job working for U Corp., there wasn't much time for festivities then either.
Nothing changed when she started with Limbus Company either. Twelve birthdays, excluding the bus staff, was already more to keep up with than any other company was willing to keep track of. There was no point in making a fuss, in calling attention to it, and–
"Hey, when's your birthday, anyway?"
The question had sounded innocent enough when you asked it, though she hardly knew you then. Hardly knew your sinister intentions of keeping track of everyone's birthdays, your personal mission to do something for each of them. What harm could there have been in volunteering such basic information? It was easy enough to access if you truly wanted to.
She knew she'd made a horrible mistake in trusting your curious gaze when just a week later, she walked into the kitchen to find Don Quixote sitting in a party hat, positively beaming at a grocery store birthday cake. Eyes twinkling with the sparkler candles, which you'd lamented you weren't sure how many to place. Party blowers went off, confetti poppers blew, and she realized she had sealed her fate. She was going to get an over the top, cheesy, painfully embarrassing birthday. And you were going to make sure of it.
It felt akin to watching the others go through their own personal circles of hell, awaiting her turn as the calendar moved further and further into the year. Not everyone got the same treatment– she'd have loved to see you try with some of them– but you made a big enough deal of it that she could firmly state that she was not looking forward to your plans.
"Your birthday is coming up." You said, leaning over the back of the seat in front of her, awaiting the other sinners' arrival to the cabin for the morning.
"Oh, I guess so." Ishmael replied, with all of the serenity she'd practiced earlier that summer on the Great Lake. The pinnacle of nonchalance, she began to bounce her leg.
You rested your chin on your hands, folded over each other. Head tilted just so. "It's tomorrow, in fact."
She coughed, looking out the window at the waves. "Huh, hadn't noticed."
A smirk formed, as if to tell her that you certainly had, before you headed to your seat.
She had intended on avoiding you the next day, just as she'd meant to inform you the last few weeks that she really didn’t like the idea of a huge celebration. But you practically threw yourself into planning the festivities, using it as a clear distraction and desperately needed morale booster, and she just couldn't bring herself to crush your spirit. Not when you put more and more effort into each birthday that came along.
When you quickly located her and to took hold of her jacket sleeve, your tenacity a force to be reckoned with when she was trudging so slowly along, she resigned herself to her fate. The kitchen door loomed closer and closer, and she braced herself for all sorts of variables. Silly string in her hair, party blowers, the works. Maybe a vaguely nautical themed cake, the best you could do with limited sources.
As the door swung open, she received only the sight of a totally vacant room. Not a cheer to be heard; only the monotonous buzz of the refrigerator. The door shutting of its own accord forced her further into the room as it tapped her back.
She blinked a few times. "Huh?"
You gestured grandly towards the cupcake on the counter. Large, definitely homemade with what was at your disposal. Blue and orange, leftover food dye from someone else's party favors. A card sat next to the plate, practically leaking with glitter. Someone's heavy handed signature could be clearly made out through the back of it.
"Dante has the others doing Mirror Dungeon runs. You've got the day off to just do..." You threw up your hands, smiling. "Whatever."
"I thought there was going to be a whole song and everything." She breathed out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing finally. The song felt like the absolute worst part to her.
As if you hadn't been tormenting her for the last week, you had the nerve to laugh innocently. "But you would hate that!"
Ishmael let a smile slip despite herself. "Yeah, I would."
Silence settled over the two of you, a beautiful but rare sound on the bus, especially at that hour. With how bored everyone had been.
You began making your way towards the door, straightening out your uniform as you walked backwards. "Well, I'm gonna go join the others. Leave you to it."
It felt a bit odd to be so excited, especially after all that had happened in the last few months on the lake. Sitting alone in the small kitchen of the bus, eating a cupcake by herself and undoubtedly getting glitter bombed by that card, was the most short term thing she'd had to look forward to since...
You paused midstep, your thumb still pointing over your shoulder towards the exit.
"Unless, y'know... you need help with that."
Ishmael looked down at the, quite honestly, comically oversized cupcake. Whoever did the icing did not excel in decorating desserts, but she took in the poorly done little orange hearts with sigh. That felt incredibly overfamiliar, whoever had done it, but the idea of it being you didn't feel so bad. If anything, it made her mouth go dry, her heart flutter.
Celebrating her birthday with solely you this year didn't sound too bad either, once she thought about it. After all, she didn’t explicitly state she wanted to be completely left alone.
With her eyes on the unopened card, rather than you, she conceded with red cheeks. "...I might."
You were back at her side in an instant, obviously having no intention of leaving to do any work as you immediately procured a knife to cut the cupcake into quarters. She sighed, fondly exasperated this time.
As the two of you devoured her cake by yourselves, having no intentions of sharing with the others whatsoever, Ishmael made a note to try to make sure you got similar treatment whenever your next birthday rolled around. She would be sure to mark it on her own calendar, a space she could fill in with your favorite color. After all, the idea of her own being something of note didn't seem quite so ridiculous anymore. So long as you didn't make a big deal of it then too.
(By New Years, you had a new personal calendar hanging in your bunk filled with different birthdays. On the 8th of August, was a space completely filled in with doodles and exclamation marks.
And little orange hearts.)
word count 1,198
i wrote this in 2 hrs today bc of a time crunch and i'm sure it shows but i haaaaad to do smth for ishmael day. her story means sm to me<3
