Marco (thatdarnoctopus) wrote in mountzenithrp, @ 2018-11-03 20:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | #day 007, jesse, marco |
Who: Marco & Jesse
When: Around 3
Where: Study
The night before had gone about as well as it could have, given how much staying power henna had. Abra had stopped by Marco's room, doing what Marco wanted to call sorcery with olive oil and steam, and then salt water that he hadn't even bothered to pretend didn't sting. He ended up with a faded, though still there, octopus, and he supposed that that was the best that they were going to get. If They wanted him to have an octopus on his neck, then he knew that it wasn't going to be easy to get off. He was grateful to Abra, and to Ettie for bringing him food, and Levi for suggesting nail polish remover even if it hadn't worked. After Abra left, Marco gave in to the stress from the day and just passed out in bed, never even getting around to getting high.
He made up for it the next day, when he woke up and found the conversation that had happened in private the day before. It shouldn't have bothered him, should it have? He already knew that it had happened. Multiple people had explained it in his post about his henna tattoo. Reading through the conversation just confirmed that everyone was, for the most part, pretty nice. He wasn't sure he could even be too mad at Scotty, if just because he was new and thought that he might eventually get out of there. He could be a little annoyed, sure, but his takeaway was that for the most part, everyone was nice. And also, that They apparently had a target on his back.
That was the thing that was getting to him. Just the fact that, once again, he had been singled out. This could have just as easily have been a vote to put the fucking octopus on him and be silent about it, but no. They had just gone and done it, because it was easy to make him freak out, and apparently one of Their favorite things to do.
He wondered if he could demand a reward in return for his uncalled for punishment, and felt bad for knowing that he would ask for heroin. And then he felt bad for feeling bad, because at this point, he wasn't sure why he gave a shit. To prove that, he went ahead and shot up, and spent the next few hours just chilling in his bed, wondering if he could write a private note to TPTB.
He was still kind of out of it when he eventually left his room, the zipper to his hoodie pulled all the way up, his hood over his head, so no one could see the faded octopus if he ran into someone. He wandered to the kitchen, grabbed a banana, and headed back out, eventually settling in the study, where he finished off the banana and curled up on a couch to take a nap. It probably would have made more sense to go back up to his room, but it wasn't like anyone was in there to care if he snored or something.
He couldn't help but think about the time when he'd done something similar and outed himself to Owen as an addict. He wondered if, since everyone in this new group knew about the schizophrenia, if the addiction was still a secret, and what they would say when it wasn't.
He'd worry about it more when he woke up.