Motorics
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
703 · Voice lines
He pinches his thigh as if to check whether this reality is the reality.
A subtle smile lights up his puffy face, like a ray of sun breaking through the stratosphere. He likes reminiscing.
And then there's the smell, but you don't even want to think about that.
Do you remember the sound of wood cracking? The billboard...
Underneath the accumulated filth the jacket itself appears to be stain-resistant. Maybe it just needs a good scrubbing?
The writing under the tiny crown logo reads Royal Extra.
His eyes are clouded, his dilated blood vessels encircling his irises like stinging brambles.
The smell is... not as bad as a two-week-old corpse, but it's definitely heading there.
Confirmed. Nearly the whole pack is there, solidified on his lower rear teeth.
You see waves churning below... Something cracks beneath your feet.
Below, in smaller font, you see the parenthetical: "(Adapted from: 'Man from Hjelmdall and the Necromancer's Treasure,' 'Man from Hjelmdall: Lord of Wrôthgär,' and 'Man from Hjelmdall: The Curse of Nachtherrer.')"
Smells of alcohol and sweat. And grease.
Whatever you say, Detective Hyperopia. Why don't you get back to the story?
Unfortunately, your eyes might not be up to the task. Speaking of... should you maybe consider getting corrective lenses? Your nose is like two centimetres from the page.
Ahhh! Savour that new board game smell! A mix of wood, paper, and ink, all wrapped in the sweet must of cardboard.
The lighter's dark green, disposable plastic. Safety's off -- in your case, the safety is always off.