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297 checks

More solid than it looked.

Quick fingers of wind pluck the aero-tram wires above you.

As he goes, you catch a flash of vivid coloured lining on the inside of his coat.

She closes her eyes.

Two cups' worth of coffee beans are about to hit the floor.

You feel his bones crunch on impact.

Flashes of white light in your vision. Pretty.

A deep, choking gasp. She couldn't breathe.

The floor vibrates.

The floor electric against your feet...

Shards rain over you as bullets pierce the strengthened glass.

So many bullets... so hard to think...

Shards rain over you as bullets pierce the strengthened glass.

So many bullets... so hard to think...

Shards rain over you as bullets pierce the strengthened glass.

A tiny green figure dances somersaults around him, victorious against the blue sky.

Your nail scrapes optic nerve.

The chair thuds into you with each impact.

Your insides smell like tram.

Vibrations... Giving you away...

The floor hums beneath your feet.

You can feel it in the floor.

But alert to you. Waiting for your signal.

The handle is warm and slick with his blood.

Pain like searing light.

Your muscles slacken, weighed down by a mounting force.

Emptiness in stereo.

Just might hurt a little.

Her eyes are a deep, layered brown.

A baby's handprint, sticky and clear over a thatch of dirt.

Knuckles on soft wood.

Approximately the size of a large lemon. Matte colouration.

The setting sun is hot on your face. Purple light spots are burned into the back of your eyelids.

It will be dark soon.

What it looks like is an anatomically correct human heart, slightly squished from being stuffed into a ten year old's pocket.

The veins on his neck bulge, blood drips from his ear.

No sign of your squadmates either.

As he looks at you evenly, his eyelid begins to twitch.

Wait! There, at the far end of the carriage.

His attention was so strong that you feel cold in its absence.

The shelves ease apart by a fraction as metal settles back into alignment.

His eyes are green. And very dry.

The outline of a building, just past the roundabout.

He turns his head briefly, as if hearing it now.

Resin on the seams, hairline cracks across the hull. Someone's been fighting to keep it alive.

A low current pulses through the device in your hands.

Your hair is drenched in sweat.

She bows her head so that you can't see her tears fall, but you still see them land. The cosmonaut shines with grief.

297 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual