[ Long before the number of those lost to the pandemic rose, the Company had begun to dig, enforcers putting shovel and spade to Leithan greenery in order to accommodate ten, fifty, then a hundred some dead. Among them, Sion stood as a lone note of dissonance, passing over corpses and knowing them as men, women, and children, all deserving of so much more than this—a mass grave hollowed out as a fire pit.
Where his men keep their distance, fearful of contracting the infection, Sion is made dauntless by the knowledge of his own synthesized biology, made to withstand both injury and disease, as well as the simple action of pressing a lily into a child's hands before the body is delivered into the grave alongside the rest.
"We are waiting for your mark, sir." someone urges, and Sion catches sight of their silhouette from the corner of his eye as he rises, wordlessly granting the request to proceed with a nod of his head, his gaze turned skyward as the dead are doused with petrol, the smell of it masking the scent of death and the early stages of decay.
(There are so, so very many dead.)
He turns, then, to an enforcer—Julius, who is not under his jurisdiction, but shares this assignment all the same—who stands solemn; who carries a flare pistol in hand. ]
As soon as the area is clear. [ Then, the petrol may be lit. Then, there will be a new pit of bodies.
A bow of his head: ] May they find better fortune in rebirth.
CLOSED | julius, week three day seven.
Where his men keep their distance, fearful of contracting the infection, Sion is made dauntless by the knowledge of his own synthesized biology, made to withstand both injury and disease, as well as the simple action of pressing a lily into a child's hands before the body is delivered into the grave alongside the rest.
"We are waiting for your mark, sir." someone urges, and Sion catches sight of their silhouette from the corner of his eye as he rises, wordlessly granting the request to proceed with a nod of his head, his gaze turned skyward as the dead are doused with petrol, the smell of it masking the scent of death and the early stages of decay.
(There are so, so very many dead.)
He turns, then, to an enforcer—Julius, who is not under his jurisdiction, but shares this assignment all the same—who stands solemn; who carries a flare pistol in hand. ]
As soon as the area is clear. [ Then, the petrol may be lit. Then, there will be a new pit of bodies.
A bow of his head: ] May they find better fortune in rebirth.