VOICE TEST

[deafens]

VOICE TESTING; GAMES EDITION




EUDIO TEST DRIVE PROMPTS - ATARAXION TEST DRIVE PROMPTS - MORE GENERAL PROMPTS

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Comments

[deafens]

[ he definitely needs a towel, but nic's a little preoccupied with making sure he's definitely not dying right now, and her courtesies went out of the window in the mean time. one hand clings to his, fingers digging in comfort and reassurance and maybe a little bit of stress as the other hand gets to work. ]

We're not high. [ she tries to sound decisive as she says it, but her voice shakes too much and she just looks worried as she checks his pulse, and rather invasively holds open one of his eyes to stare into them for a moment (watching his pupils dilate, not that she's told him that much) and tugs open his mouth to check for goop with no apology whatsoever.

she's satisfied that he's not immediately in threat of dying though, and somewhat relaxes as she squeezes his hand again. ] I have no fucking clue whats going on.

[ the admission is rough, and she looks around them for a moment before her eyes fall back to tris - and oh yeah, towel or something might be nice. she quickly reaches out for one of the other ones she found, slightly more torn up and damaged than hers, but it'll have to do. she'd make some joke about there not being much to cover up, but well- it's not quite the right time for it. ] Are you alright?

[saints]

[ She's got fingers peeling his eyes open, pushing his mouth wide and he coughs--enough that okay, maybe it doesn't some good and he yanks his head away so he can spit whatever comes out onto the floor. Her hand his squeezing hard enough that he's pretty sure he's going to be feeling that for days, but all the same, he squeezes back. He's making sure that there's nothing left, coughing to both get the taste out of his mouth and to enjoy the rush of his rapidly filling lungs, still greedy for air. ]

I like air. And breathing.

[ He says it more to himself than to her and he keeps a hand in hers while grabbing the towel from her and starting to mop up the mess where it's stickiest--his chest, his stomach, further down. Everything's fucking cold and he just wants to get clean again, but right now this'll have to do.

When he finally lets go of her hand, it's with a long squeeze himself. He needs to clean up more and tuck whatever's left of the towel around him so he can get at least a little traction when he sits up okay. He looks at her now, a little clearer, breathing more evenly now. ]

Been better... had worse hangovers, though.

[ He pulls her in, and whatever if it's still a little sticky, he's going to hug her anyways. ]

'Bout you? You okay?