x. knife

“non omnis moriar…” carefully… you were told to treat each sinew in its body. tool in hand, mask in your face, everything in place, your fingers tremble with the cold steel of scalpel slicing smoothly a stretching crest across its chest, the essential invisibles exposed by the blade. the carrion reeks uncanny asepsis, and alcohol stink: it is a wonder how you could still breathe when you have there in your hands the command to cut the corpse’s ties with the intact world. under your breath you muster a whiff of preserved air, as you utter unfamiliar names for lung and rib and heart. soon enough you forget that what is dead was once born and bred, has grown and led a life like you. it is amazing, the sudden way soft turns savage as the scientific data start to sink in (the mind is a cold-blooded organ: callous and vicious). through the fog of formalin in your brain, the violence brought a ghastly thought as you complete the day’s rites of mutilation: this is how you learn about humanity. Tags: knife, initiazen, titans, initiations, doctormagnus