The dirt settles, bringing our focus to Shilo's moonlit skin. Graves scream they'd rather be lonely than robbed. An entire city built on top of the dead. Graverobber couldn't be more accurate. Shilo ponders as to if she'll fall in. Perhaps onto the body of a happier time, a time without the option of "Genetic Perfection." Watch your step as if in a mine field, but with a worse fate. You could fall, but for how long? How deep this hollow ground? There are exactly seven graves lined up, yet Graverobber doesn't walk away. She's chasing a white rabbit, and the clock is ticking three beats faster than it should.
The earth smells of oak. Tainted by industrialization, like throwing a bit of what's left in your ash tray into your air freshener.
Graverobber approaches, a man with a mission, he glances at Shilo, tight black dress meeting boots. He scans over her face, a sigh, too young. His boots sink into the ground as he walks, and bodies cringe below. Who's next? Who must be reminded of the dreaded sin? Another incision, another surgery, it never ends.
He smells of cat food and garlic. A terrible combination and it messes with her senses. She smirks at the irony: I guess garlic can't keep away every monster…
Shilo shifts, ashamed of her voice like a drunken priest. In fear of how it will escape her mouth. "I want it," she releases while rising off the ground.
The male in him smiled at that statement, although he knew she wanted the Zydrate, not him. Not only is she seventeen, she's ill, vulnerable. No evidence of an organ transplant, just natural beauty. It'd been so long since anyone had seen natural beauty. She has never had surgery in her life, among other things he knew all too well. A smirk. It'd been so long since someone so young had come to him. But hell, a customer is a customer. That is if she had money…
"Follow me," he does not wish to show compassion. She follows him to a coffin. He'd apparently done the dirty work before she got there. He slides the top off and it crashes onto the ground. The wood smells of nature, perfection. Upon enjoying its unyielding comfort, she is punished with that of the corpse, revolting, revengeful. She gags, throat tight, spit filling her cheeks. He checks her expression from the corner of his dark eye. She has a lot to learn.