It's a set of position lights moving in unison, like a restless constellation...
Motorics
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
703 · Voice lines
It's a set of position lights moving in unison, like a restless constellation...
A baby is crying in the neighbouring apartment.
You look out the window toward the north. There, amidst the low-hanging stars, you can just make out signs of motion...
You look around, but you don't see anything unusual. Then again, your eyes aren't the sharpest...
You look out the window toward the north. There, hanging some distance above the horison, you can just make out a strange silhouette...
Waves crashing in the distance, the sound of sea below the window.
The man groans once again, but his tongue keeps failing him: It's impossible to make out the syllables. A hand emerges from the blankets, trying to gesticulate something...
The man groans once again, but his tongue keeps failing him: It's impossible to make out the syllables. A hand emerges from the blankets, trying to gesticulate something...
It's deep, in suffering somehow.
And then it dawns upon you, clear and surreal...
In the dark it looks like a nest.
And look, the other foot is camouflaged by a striped sock bearing the name MAXTOR on the sole. Three toes are poking out of a hole.
The noxious odour emanating from the drunken man is strong and familiar.