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Apr. 23rd, 2006 11:45 pmYou have to feed a dogsbody. Wash it. Do maintenance.
Normally he lets the former owner take care of that, once he has them in thrall. But Dale Cooper is giving him trouble.
He reaches out, opens the door. The key scratches at the knob, and slides in.
Cooper's body stumbles in; he thrusts up a hand against the wall to keep himself from falling forward.
And keeps a hand on the wall as he makes his way to the bathroom.
He has to brush his teeth.
***
(Elsewhere.)
Beanbags are too complicated.
A three-legged stool might be within reach, eventually.
Cooper is flat on his back, in corpse pose, eyes closed.
The trick is to visualize himself without all the injuries. That comes first.
Next...a place to sit would be nice.
He's coming to realize that he's going to be here for a while.
Around him, the red curtains flutter slightly as a flock of things with wings crosses the air outside Cooper's red room. All he can detect are silhouettes.
Logic would dictate that he shouldn't feel pain, since he's not in control.
Cooper threw out traditional logic days ago.
***
He has to admit it feels nice to slide in the bed.
***
The feeling of relief as his body makes it in the bed is immense.
And that's alarming.
Because if he can't make his arm move from the inside, as he is -- and he tests this, over and over --
Then that means that what happens to him on the outside really is happening to him on the inside.
Cooper is starting to wish, very much, that he'd told Clarice to alert Moiraine as well as Harry.
***
"Too late now," he says to the ceiling, and begins to laugh.
Normally he lets the former owner take care of that, once he has them in thrall. But Dale Cooper is giving him trouble.
He reaches out, opens the door. The key scratches at the knob, and slides in.
Cooper's body stumbles in; he thrusts up a hand against the wall to keep himself from falling forward.
And keeps a hand on the wall as he makes his way to the bathroom.
He has to brush his teeth.
(Elsewhere.)
Beanbags are too complicated.
A three-legged stool might be within reach, eventually.
Cooper is flat on his back, in corpse pose, eyes closed.
The trick is to visualize himself without all the injuries. That comes first.
Next...a place to sit would be nice.
He's coming to realize that he's going to be here for a while.
Around him, the red curtains flutter slightly as a flock of things with wings crosses the air outside Cooper's red room. All he can detect are silhouettes.
Logic would dictate that he shouldn't feel pain, since he's not in control.
Cooper threw out traditional logic days ago.
He has to admit it feels nice to slide in the bed.
The feeling of relief as his body makes it in the bed is immense.
And that's alarming.
Because if he can't make his arm move from the inside, as he is -- and he tests this, over and over --
Then that means that what happens to him on the outside really is happening to him on the inside.
Cooper is starting to wish, very much, that he'd told Clarice to alert Moiraine as well as Harry.
"Too late now," he says to the ceiling, and begins to laugh.
