@fleur-de-lit Cont from X
They’ve never been much into drugs. Not the use of it, anyways. The sale has always been their forte, well versed in the names and their effects. Perhaps trying to think of the name of what they’ve been drugged with is the best way their mind can figure to cope with a situation that they can not find themself getting out of in the foreseeable future.
There is an awful, awful ache all over their body. Bruises and lacerations and they’re quite, quite certain their arm must have been broken in their best attempts to defend themself against the onslaught they’d endured a few hours before the latest and greatest disaster they’ve found themself in.
How anyone could find the time, person, or reasoning to build such a thing is beyond them. It’s akin to a very large fish tank-- Except instead of being on a nice stand or inset in a wall with brilliant lights and tropical fish, it’s situated in the middle of an empty warehouse on a concrete floor. Where tropical fish and corals should be is a mostly empty space slowly beginning to fill with the most frigid water Bailey has ever found themself submerged in-- And Bailey themself, of course.
More cold than the water is the hard metal around their bare ankle. The chain fastened to the bottom of the tank meant to keep them held tight beneath the water no matter how hard they may try to swim to the top ( not that they can, really-- Body dull and leaden and mind full of moths and cottonballs ).
Oh, what a predicament.
They are so absolutely freezing cold.











