Medium · Shivers ≥ 4
The gale wind blows in from the coast, a wind of needles. It wraps itself around a building of brick and mortar. Somewhere, a clamor rings through the honeycomb of classrooms.
Physique
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
711 · Voice lines
The gale wind blows in from the coast, a wind of needles. It wraps itself around a building of brick and mortar. Somewhere, a clamor rings through the honeycomb of classrooms.
High above, the wind wraps the church in its rush. Cold and wet from the ocean bay, it parts around the massive keel-shaped roof. Like a test tunnel washing both sides, the way it has done for three-hundred-and-forty years. The wind keeps its distance. So should you.
Feels like electricity and a very small piece of nothingness.
There is a hawthorn tree on Rue de Saint-Ghislaine, right next to the canal. A reel of magnetic tape is caught in its branches, like bronze ribbons blowing in the wind...
The skin on your back is crawling. For a second you can't even hear the music anymore.
There is a hawthorn tree on Rue de Saint-Ghislaine, right next to the canal.
A hawthorn tree on Rue de Saint-Ghislaine. Tangled in its branches, something bronze flutters in the wind...
The wind brings some snow in from the broken gallery. It wraps you in its embrace, cold and luminous. You should return to the mural soon, to the one that said: Tomorrow is just a whisper away.
So many walls all over Martinaise -- weatherworn, cracked, their paint peeling...
A slight sensation of static electricity, as before a storm. A miniature conference is taking place inside, and you are the subject.
Has it gotten cold in here? Your arms seem to be covered in gooseflesh.
A low pressure system is gathering itself over the bay. It's begun to tug violently at the tarpaulins...
Now the breeze has subsided. All is still except for the last bits of steam rising from the coffee pot.
A cold wind whips at the canvas. From far below, the sounds of waves smashing themselves against the rocks. You are exposed.
A cool breeze coming off the bay wraps itself around the Capeside Apartments. In a nearly forgotten part of that glorified construction site, surrounded by rusted pieces of scaffolding and walls of faded tarpaulin, a detective of the RCM debates the intricacies of an abstruse theory with a pair of university students...