Sedated feels... like a lot of places. It's like coming home to smell your favorite dinner is in the oven. It feels like warm hands creeping up under your shirt. Like laying there, prone on your bed with the anticipation of a fucking amazing blowjob about to happen.
It feels like being strung out, but he's starting to notice the edges of the wallpaper of this world peeling away, and it's not the same at all.
He'd already felt lethargic, laid up at Duster's place, even before the Parasite had come to collect him like a kid who put up a hundred Lost Dog posters and finally got a call back. Now he feels something else, something that isn't quite depression - because the shit he's on doesn't really allow for weighted emotions, thats the fucking point - but beyond numb and swirled, he feels trapped.
Sure the lost dog gets to go home with it's master (he's feeling more than mind fucked at that role reversal appearing) but home turns out to be a kennel, and said master is off tending the fields. Or whatever the hell Leech does.
Butter churning? Plastic factory? No, no it has something to do with kids. Like... teaches them to talk about their feelings using a dolphin puppet or some shit like that. Whatever it is, Leech has become a boy scout troop leader, and Ruckus just lays around, prone and listless, sometimes in pain, but most of the time just trying to remember if actual heroin addiction was this... lonely? That might be the word, but he won't use it.
The Not Leech does come by, and Ruckus still isn't sure what to do with him. If the kid had a big curly mustache, than he could be sure that there was a good and evil version, and that he should only be concerned with the former, but alas, no such obvious indication had been made.
Aside from Kellen's mostly obvious outward disdain for Ruckus as a whole.
Ruckus hasn't quite figured out how to work - let along enjoy - television, so that wasn't much of a distraction, thus Kellen, being the only thing he'd seen move almost all day, was nearly a welcome entertainment source by now. "Dolphin puppets... s' time consuming..." he lists, head turned just enough that he's nearly speaking into the pillow, trying to shift a little but quickly remembering that whatever he can still feel, probably shouldn't be moved. Otherwise he might have bothered putting on a shirt today, but really, the abrasions make them itchy anyhow.
The one visible eye lazily tracks Kellen's movements around the room, hesitant and, if he would ever admit it, almost fearful of being entirely helpless in a room with someone who quite publicly would hold no remorse in your demise.
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It feels like being strung out, but he's starting to notice the edges of the wallpaper of this world peeling away, and it's not the same at all.
He'd already felt lethargic, laid up at Duster's place, even before the Parasite had come to collect him like a kid who put up a hundred Lost Dog posters and finally got a call back. Now he feels something else, something that isn't quite depression - because the shit he's on doesn't really allow for weighted emotions, thats the fucking point - but beyond numb and swirled, he feels trapped.
Sure the lost dog gets to go home with it's master (he's feeling more than mind fucked at that role reversal appearing) but home turns out to be a kennel, and said master is off tending the fields. Or whatever the hell Leech does.
Butter churning? Plastic factory? No, no it has something to do with kids. Like... teaches them to talk about their feelings using a dolphin puppet or some shit like that. Whatever it is, Leech has become a boy scout troop leader, and Ruckus just lays around, prone and listless, sometimes in pain, but most of the time just trying to remember if actual heroin addiction was this... lonely? That might be the word, but he won't use it.
The Not Leech does come by, and Ruckus still isn't sure what to do with him. If the kid had a big curly mustache, than he could be sure that there was a good and evil version, and that he should only be concerned with the former, but alas, no such obvious indication had been made.
Aside from Kellen's mostly obvious outward disdain for Ruckus as a whole.
Ruckus hasn't quite figured out how to work - let along enjoy - television, so that wasn't much of a distraction, thus Kellen, being the only thing he'd seen move almost all day, was nearly a welcome entertainment source by now. "Dolphin puppets... s' time consuming..." he lists, head turned just enough that he's nearly speaking into the pillow, trying to shift a little but quickly remembering that whatever he can still feel, probably shouldn't be moved. Otherwise he might have bothered putting on a shirt today, but really, the abrasions make them itchy anyhow.
The one visible eye lazily tracks Kellen's movements around the room, hesitant and, if he would ever admit it, almost fearful of being entirely helpless in a room with someone who quite publicly would hold no remorse in your demise.