It wasn't the typical funeral home set up at Illinois Donor Services. It was more industrial, a warehouse where bodies were stripped of their most useful assets.
Zachariah could have chosen not to let his hands get dirty anymore, but he'd be so terribly bored. Instead, he spoke with grieving families at his far more welcoming office, assuring them that their loved ones would be under his care and supervision from start to finish. And he meant every word.
From the mortuary table to the incinerator, to the carefully packaged organs, tissue, bone and blood sent all over the country. Across the world, sometimes. He oversaw the process, performed many of the procedures himself. For some very select clients, it was imperitive that he take the lead.
Zachariah closed the doors to the delivery bay, having just handed off a selection of packages for very important clients. Once on the road they'd be swiftly delivered to labs, hospitals, and homes. He didn't particularly care what the uses were. The natural course of things to him was that people were useful after death, that every living creature was. Decay was neccessary. It fed the soil, the plants, every living creature around the dead.
There was nothing more abhorrent to him than the idea of lead lined coffins, the dead trapped and preserved. He was glad he didn't perform embalming procedures these days. It was a waste.
Scrubbing his nails thoroughly before preparing to go home, he'd heard music coming from the mortuary. He'd turned the stereo off. He knew he had. When Zachariah pushed through the doors to investigate, he found a man standing there with an air of casual superiority.
"This area's private." He stated, letting the door fall closed behind him. Staring. The pleasant demeanour he switched on for clients and the general populace was wearing on him after a long day. But if this was a new client, a new opportunity, he was better off being welcoming. Yet cautious. "But if you'd like to make arrangements, sir, I can escort you to the main office."
rayban What鈥檚 in the box? Take a peak with聽@/carlossainz55聽and聽@/charles_leclerc聽in their聽RayBanMeta聽for Scuderia Ferrari Wayfarer Miami Limited Edition.
Thinking about how I can use these images for a short story in "Instructions for Strange Desires." My first thought leans on a famous line from a brilliant movie: "What's in the box?"
What's the story? Who is this guy? What is Amazon shipping?
@hatredcurse
Creeping into the corner of the room ( he'd attempt to be unnoticeable, but he's not going to put forth the effort to try ), Sasuke drops a relatively tall, wrapped up box. The squeeze and squeal of the paper giving way to his presence.
He glances over his shoulder, " happy birthday. " Then, proceeds to try to slip out.
芦Had you not talked, I would have been offended
that you thought I wouldn't notice you.禄
銋he smile can be heard in his words, though. This silly boy, thinking there's need for presents other than his own existence. And he shall bring a pile of them for Sasuke come July, because nowhere does it say that big brothers can't be be hypocrites. Either way, he'll be lying if he claims to not be curious, so Itachi leaves behind the book he was entertained with and gets up instead, walking up to said thoughtful gift - casually leaving one hand hanging out, just in case his once-baby still baby brother would like to take it.
銋ぢ玈asuke, at least tell me what it is! Or where to start unwrapping it, I don't want to accidentally ruin it.禄 A pause, however, and the puzzled blink, blink as he experimentally feels over the package and takes in the sheer size of it. 芦...What did you put in here?禄