Day 52: Lunch

[purpletaint]

[from here]It was a race. A fight against patience and a Song's call. Still, the sedation's dredges churned through him. Two close at hand had a potent effect--much like the night that they were left in that town, and the morning after. Rubedo had came then. Came for them like something out of place, and wasn't that so ironic afterwards--when

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[scarefaux]

"Cut into it," the Scarecrow said, doing just that to his taco, attempting to saw it in half with his fork and knife. He found he wasn't very successful, the contents spilling all over his plate from the open ends. "Then stitched up the hole like a piece of cloth, but not before putting in a clever little thing. The whole thing was undeniably fascinating..."

He paused, his smile fading. Though it had been days since his Sleep Study, he couldn't help but feel that tingling in his back as he thought about being strapped to the table, unable to move, the stiff frame of his body working against him as he struggled against the restraints; there was the doctor's cold tone, his senses fading, the screen- much like the one on which he'd seen himself in The Wizard of Oz- and the dreaded rattling. The memory of that night was scarred into him.

"... and at the same time, very frightening," the Scarecrow finished quietly. All that had occurred before he learned he could die- he couldn't begin to imagine how different his perspective would have been if he'd had that fact on his human brain.

[longlivetehking]

"...I see," Scar responded a bit uncertainly before growing silent himself. The experience was scarily similar to his own, making his attempt to steer the subject away from said experience quite the failure. He'd much rather forget about the whole thing, pretend it had never existed, that no one had cut open his head and had done something to his brain, that he hadn't-- that he hadn't...

They had messed up everything! His grip on the eating utensil tightened, stabbing a stray piece of food lying on his plate as a pathetic attempt to release some of his anger. They did this to him!

"It is all their fault," he said in a low, angry whisper. The comment was audible enough to be heard by his lunch companion, but it was hardly directed at anyone.