The door shut with a snap, drawing the Scarecrow from his sleep. It was still so strange to him, to close his eyes for a moment and find that he'd lost time completely. He supposed initially that it might be the fact that the sleep all the patients were drawn into at night was due to a spell, and would therefore feel unnatural because it was; however, even when it occurred during the day from time to time, it still was a bizarre sensation. Some aspects of his humanity would never settle quite right.
He was disappointed to find Depth Charge was already gone. Having worried about him the night before, especially after what he said just before his departure- about the basement and the grim ultimatum of how he might not come back at all- the Scarecrow had desperately wanted to catch his roommate before they were ushered off to breakfast. He could only hope that had been Depth Charge leaving, and not a new roommate entirely. Well, there would be an opportunity to ask later... or at least he liked to think so.
Though he had missed the morning announcements, the Scarecrow took a safe guess from the return of the military uniforms that things were back to normal- or as normal as they got, anyway. He slipped his feet into the tight boots, leaning forward and tying the laces into several knots to hold them to his feet. He never had figured out how the strings were supposed to entwine through the various holes in the shoes, but as long as they stayed on him, he supposed there wasn't much else to be done.
While tying his laces, he could feel the bandages on his burned arm pulling against his skin: while not as painful a sensation as it had been the previous two days, it was still one that caused him to pull back and try again, this time bringing his leg onto the bed. Once finished, he decided a peek at his arms was in order.
Rolling up one sleeve revealed the expected wrappings, keeping his wounds hidden from view. He had to unbutton his shirt and look down the other arm to find the long cut on his left limb- the bandages from the day before were missing, but still visible were some stitches that pulled the skin together much like a piece of cloth. It was simultaneously familiar and startling, a grim reminder of just how marvelous human bodies were: so fragile, yet they came with the capacity to mend themselves with a little help. The stitches they'd sewn into his head after his sleep study had eventually gone away- perhaps those on his arm would, too. They were more permanent fixtures on a body made of old rags and clothes.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and the soldier who usually played his escort came in. Grabbing his journal from his desk, the Scarecrow followed him without a word, expecting to go through the Sun Room and on to the Cafeteria, but instead found himself led upstairs. It was most unusual- had he missed something on the announcements that would have informed him of where he was going? He'd hoped to catch Depth Charge, or maybe Sangamon; there was also his pressing desire to stop by the bulletin board to make sure his other friends had made it through the night, but it seemed it would have to wait. Though he asked if he could make a quick stop by the Sun Room, the soldier insisted they keep moving. There must have been something important waiting for them, the Scarecrow reasoned.
And indeed, there was something out of the ordinary: down the Horrible Hallway and into one of the rooms they went, and the Scarecrow found himself presented with just the man he'd been looking for. "Depth Charge!" he exclaimed. "Boy, am I glad to—"
He was shushed by an officer at the table before them, who slid a folder their way. Yes, this was certainly shaping up to be a most peculiar day.
no subject
He was disappointed to find Depth Charge was already gone. Having worried about him the night before, especially after what he said just before his departure- about the basement and the grim ultimatum of how he might not come back at all- the Scarecrow had desperately wanted to catch his roommate before they were ushered off to breakfast. He could only hope that had been Depth Charge leaving, and not a new roommate entirely. Well, there would be an opportunity to ask later... or at least he liked to think so.
Though he had missed the morning announcements, the Scarecrow took a safe guess from the return of the military uniforms that things were back to normal- or as normal as they got, anyway. He slipped his feet into the tight boots, leaning forward and tying the laces into several knots to hold them to his feet. He never had figured out how the strings were supposed to entwine through the various holes in the shoes, but as long as they stayed on him, he supposed there wasn't much else to be done.
While tying his laces, he could feel the bandages on his burned arm pulling against his skin: while not as painful a sensation as it had been the previous two days, it was still one that caused him to pull back and try again, this time bringing his leg onto the bed. Once finished, he decided a peek at his arms was in order.
Rolling up one sleeve revealed the expected wrappings, keeping his wounds hidden from view. He had to unbutton his shirt and look down the other arm to find the long cut on his left limb- the bandages from the day before were missing, but still visible were some stitches that pulled the skin together much like a piece of cloth. It was simultaneously familiar and startling, a grim reminder of just how marvelous human bodies were: so fragile, yet they came with the capacity to mend themselves with a little help. The stitches they'd sewn into his head after his sleep study had eventually gone away- perhaps those on his arm would, too. They were more permanent fixtures on a body made of old rags and clothes.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and the soldier who usually played his escort came in. Grabbing his journal from his desk, the Scarecrow followed him without a word, expecting to go through the Sun Room and on to the Cafeteria, but instead found himself led upstairs. It was most unusual- had he missed something on the announcements that would have informed him of where he was going? He'd hoped to catch Depth Charge, or maybe Sangamon; there was also his pressing desire to stop by the bulletin board to make sure his other friends had made it through the night, but it seemed it would have to wait. Though he asked if he could make a quick stop by the Sun Room, the soldier insisted they keep moving. There must have been something important waiting for them, the Scarecrow reasoned.
And indeed, there was something out of the ordinary: down the Horrible Hallway and into one of the rooms they went, and the Scarecrow found himself presented with just the man he'd been looking for. "Depth Charge!" he exclaimed. "Boy, am I glad to—"
He was shushed by an officer at the table before them, who slid a folder their way. Yes, this was certainly shaping up to be a most peculiar day.