[Well. This. This is startlingly familiar in all of its unfamiliarity; first, the hospital, the white walls and non-answers and the sheer impossibility of it all -- what are the odds, for something like this to happen two times to the same person? --, so many doctors and Jesus Christ, nobody seems to be the least curious that he's, you know, alive. Human. Living, breathing, blood-in-his-veins human, with no sign whatsoever of his former partially deceased state.
Not that this sudden change in his state of living seems to have had any effect on how people regard him. The doctors seemed to be relieved to get rid of him, and he has even less luck with who he expects are the locals -- gawking at him (just like home, is this how it's going to be for him, forever?), shying away from him. And Kieren? Well, he's basically already so done with this, muttering to himself, not really caring if there's someone nearby to hear him.]
This-- this is. Well. I look like myself, back home, and everyone's flinching back and ready to run. I look-- ["Normal", is what he would have said, even some months ago... but now. Now it's different. There's a huff, and the tone of his voice takes a stab at flat irony but ends up falling closer to hysteria.] I look living, and it's the same thing.
[Well, at least nobody's calling him a rotter, now. Small comforts.]
scenario two
[When you die, come back as a zombie and then get rehabilitated, the fact that you've seen a right number of disturbing things is kind of a given. But this? The trilling laughter that echoes from one direction or another, so much like in that one horror movie Kieren remembers watching, back when he was still, you know, not-gone -- well. Right now, he's fervently wishing he'd never seen that movie.
Besides, his feet hurt, he's out of breath, and he's cold; all three would be amazing if they weren't so annoying. Funny how getting used to being able to feel pain and temperature fluctuations can be so difficult -- funnier, still, that before this, he probably would have given everything to be able to feel them. Now? Now, he feels like laughing, because this is hopeless. To think he used to be quite good at navigating the woods, back home.]
Alright, no, this isn't getting me anywhere. Maybe... maybe I should try that way instead. [Except... it looks almost like there's a shadow moving there, along that path, looking vaguely human-shaped. Taking a fortifying breath, he calls out:]
Kieren Walker | In the Flesh
[Well. This. This is startlingly familiar in all of its unfamiliarity; first, the hospital, the white walls and non-answers and the sheer impossibility of it all -- what are the odds, for something like this to happen two times to the same person? --, so many doctors and Jesus Christ, nobody seems to be the least curious that he's, you know, alive. Human. Living, breathing, blood-in-his-veins human, with no sign whatsoever of his former partially deceased state.
Not that this sudden change in his state of living seems to have had any effect on how people regard him. The doctors seemed to be relieved to get rid of him, and he has even less luck with who he expects are the locals -- gawking at him (just like home, is this how it's going to be for him, forever?), shying away from him. And Kieren? Well, he's basically already so done with this, muttering to himself, not really caring if there's someone nearby to hear him.]
This-- this is. Well. I look like myself, back home, and everyone's flinching back and ready to run. I look-- ["Normal", is what he would have said, even some months ago... but now. Now it's different. There's a huff, and the tone of his voice takes a stab at flat irony but ends up falling closer to hysteria.] I look living, and it's the same thing.
[Well, at least nobody's calling him a rotter, now. Small comforts.]
scenario two
[When you die, come back as a zombie and then get rehabilitated, the fact that you've seen a right number of disturbing things is kind of a given. But this? The trilling laughter that echoes from one direction or another, so much like in that one horror movie Kieren remembers watching, back when he was still, you know, not-gone -- well. Right now, he's fervently wishing he'd never seen that movie.
Besides, his feet hurt, he's out of breath, and he's cold; all three would be amazing if they weren't so annoying. Funny how getting used to being able to feel pain and temperature fluctuations can be so difficult -- funnier, still, that before this, he probably would have given everything to be able to feel them. Now? Now, he feels like laughing, because this is hopeless. To think he used to be quite good at navigating the woods, back home.]
Alright, no, this isn't getting me anywhere. Maybe... maybe I should try that way instead. [Except... it looks almost like there's a shadow moving there, along that path, looking vaguely human-shaped. Taking a fortifying breath, he calls out:]
Hullo? Anyone there?