"You are not used to this body yet?" Marvin muttered, his eyes widening.
"A slip of the tongue," Tom was quick to rectify his mistake. "I'm not used to how sensitive it is," he explained what he actually meant before. "It's like... I can feel the damned wind in the dungeon. Can you?" he asked, bringing forth the simplest possible example to help his friends understand the situation.
"What are you talking about?" Cleo flared up. There is no wind in the dungeon at all!" she said, grabbing one of Tom's spears littering the floor, and hanging a small piece of cloth from it. Then, she erected the spear up, allowing the cloth to freely hang from it.
"See?" she said, pointing at the complete lack of movement of the cloth.
"If there is air, there is wind," Tom muttered, using his spear as a walking stick. "I don't blame you for not feeling it. Just like I don't blame you for not hearing the flow of magic either," he added.