Medium · Inland Empire ≥ 4
There's a word on the tip of your tongue. Colourless, odourless. It's...
Psyche
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
976 · Voice lines
There's a word on the tip of your tongue. Colourless, odourless. It's...
What's there not to want? It's got range, meaning, layers, colours, associations, the whole works!
The encroaching doom is golden red. It is inside you, but also outside, on the horizon, by the water's edge. Innermost but yet to happen -- things make sense from that angle...
Who he is and what they're fighting for? This is interesting.
It feels like there's an entire history behind the word... but it doesn't really matter. You got it. You know what it means.
You're Tequila Sunset. You have been Tequila Sunset for a long time now.
Your mind can only conjure up Hunk Handy, Fucke Waldéz, Bosco... you might want to decide to keep quiet about these.
You're Tequila Sunset. You have always been Tequila Sunset. It has always been too late.
Whatever it is, it was abandoned for good reason. Best to leave some stones unturned...
Whatever this true life is, you feel it's the real centrepiece of this mythology.
Just a moment. That voice isn't human, and it's not saying 'Nay!' -- It's saying 'N-n-n-neigh!'
But you don't like that, you liar. You like this one, the softness of her core is dear to you...
This is a good, dangerous line of questioning. You should prod him on!
The sickest. That is perhaps why it should be researched.
He means something para-natural. He must...
He wants to keep it at a distance. He's afraid of what powers are contained therein...
It's not easy to reach a harmonic resonance of sines without some adjustment.