Airs of Terror

 is considered a WARNINGWARNING in Sunless Skies.

Circumstance description
"Reasons to stay awake at night."

Quality status
 has different statuses according to your actions, defined by the comment in front of the quality.

Variable Interaction description
These desciptions appear when a specific group is called for text.

Touch

 * [ 0 ] An irregularity in the galley: the table is neatly laid, but the plates are glued in place and the cutlery nailed down. The culprit is quickly discovered when she tries to nail the chief engineer's hat to the chief engineer's head. \"Everything has its place,\" she explains when she's dragged before you.
 * [ 21 ] A crewman is staring fixedly from a stained-glass window. \"Look!\" he points out at the apparently ordinary sky. \"Webs, strung between the stars! And watch. Watch! There – did you see the stars shiver? Like dew on the cobweb when the spider stirs?\" You saw no such thing.
 * [ 41 ] A junior signaller is discovered in the hold amidst a pile of dissected books. She is cutting out words and grouping them in clusters to represent a new system of linguistic categorisation. \"Narrative is preposterous and occlusive,\" she informs you. \"Meaning is the only sensible foundation for classification.\" You examine her arrangements. The words 'light' and 'law' sit side-by-side. Nearby, 'conjunction', 'philosophy' and 'faction' huddle together.
 * [ 61 ] One of your engineers has taken an oath of utter silence. He refuses to speak, or make any sound at all. He has gagged himself, and wrapped rags around his feet to muffle his footsteps. He refuses to employ either wrench or hammer. He is not, as it stands, much use.
 * [ 81 ] You discover a stoker angrily defacing the engine's bible. He claims that here in the heavens, there are more pertinent gods than that of King James. Immediately, he launches into a sermon about the Burrower Below: the wyrm-mother, general-progenitrix of the Devourers of Days, who are called the Aeginae. \"She tunnelled the paths across the sky! Every transit is a trespass! We must give praise!\""
 * [ 91 ] Someone has been making subtle amendments to your Navigator's calculations, presumably in an attempt to alter your course. The culprit is discovered to be a reticent engineer.\n\nYou demand an explanation. She once encountered the Storm that Speaks, and it spoke to her in voices she had thought she'd never hear again. She has been trying to find again it ever since.

Dream

 * [ 0 ] You dream of a storm whose lightning scratches words across the sky, and whose thunder is a cacophony of voices belonging to people you have known. Its winds pluck, pitifully, at your clothes. You are wearing black: sombre, funereal black.
 * [ 21 ] You dream of falling. It's a common dream, here. The fogs that bedevil the High Wilderness are thick about you, and through them, below, you see something stir. A beast. A behemoth. Almost a dragon; almost a whale; almost a continent. It gnaws on the roots of heaven, and all the fogs of the Wilderness are its steaming breath. Its maw opens, wide as the gulf between stars."
 * [ 41 ] A dream of a midnight meadow. Above you the stars are going out one by one, as if their gas-pipes had been turned off. Flowers bloom in the dark, coloured in a spectrum of blacks that were heretofore imperceptible: the black of grief, the black of before-times, the blacks of liberation and of possibility. A rainbow arches across the newly empty sky, in seven subtle shades. All black, of course.
 * [ 61 ] The sky of your dream is blazing gold. It is peppered – no, crowded – with suns. Suns piled on suns, like the groats in a miser's hoard.\n\nTheir light floods you. It shines through skin and blood and meat, picking out your branching veins and the slender pillars of your bones. Is there no more to you than this?

Discontent

 * [ 0 ] A junior signaller receives a dose of medicinal port in the infirmary, after seeing a frozen corpse spin past a window. The experience has shaken him. \"The dead are hungry!\" he says. \"We need to make an offerin', or it'll come back, a-knockin' at the hull!\"
 * [ 51 ] An engineer cries out, her voice hoarse as a professional mourner. \"It's gone!\" She points through one of the stained-glass windows. \"A star! It winked out!\" You look through the glass. Stars burn upon the firmament. The specific patch of sky she's pointing to is indeed empty, but you couldn't say if a star had been there before.

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