i see black light ⭄ arwen

A R W E N MORTUUS ;

BOY REAPER

That was unimpressive, wasn't it? 

Ivy Mortuus was his sister for sixteen years, he knew exactly how this was going to end the second she decided to run away to a fantasy that never existed. There was no better place for them than right here, in the pits of the Mortuus Medical Center, but he found some kind of relief knowing his sanctum removed its weakest link all in its own. Her body returned home today, right where it always belonged. 

With him and his embalming tools at the ready. Of course he would be the one to do the job - who else? A bit of him was disgusted at the sight of what was left, but the majority was impressed at how well the capitol preserved her mangled remains. She wore a black dress, his initial reaction to smell for formaldehyde. He and Bram moved the corpse from its casket and onto a stretcher he alone would bring to the basement. That's where he was most comfortable, taking apart a body rather than putting one together. He wasn't one for the operating table; no, he was much more suited for a morgue. 

" welcome back home, ivy. "

A homecoming on a bleak day, it didn't wear on him much to dismember his sister. That's the easiest part, removing the head first with a serrated saw. Skin is the most abundant organ of the body, but he refuses to be sloppy - this is his sister, after all. He's surprised at the lack of blood, he wonders what the Capitol must have done with it all. In the day since her death, her body had barely been tampered with. This was his first time inspecting their work, since his escapade failed the year prior with the Khan sister, Abha. There was a natural curiosity that came with experiencing another's work, especially that of the highest Capitol - but it looked like there was hardly any work done. 

She looked almost the same as he remembered, only with a missing limb neatly packaged alongside the rest of her. Ivy Mortuus was dead without a doubt, he wondered how quickly she would rot if he left her down here. In a laughable manner, he thinks that's what she'd prefer. Something natural, a burial perhaps. 

If only. 

Once he's able to cut through the throat, there's a moment where he must saw through the brittle bone of the upper spine. The rest is a simple removal, especially with her carcass being drained of its blood already. Arwen places the head of Ivy Mortuus to the side, on a propped up platform of the basement operating table. What remains is a battle against time; after death, organs only stay good for so long, you see. 

The brain and nerve cells die instantly, of course, and knowing Ivy those might have never been of any use. The heart goes next, of which she perhaps had too much of - Arwen cuts a window into her stomach straight through the black dress. His precision is unmistakable, he allows his sister to pull his full focus for the first time in years. There's a stiffness in her muscles that he can only imagine came from a death by combat, much tighter than that of rigor mortis. 

Her heart is useless, despite how it led her through life. 

It dies five to twenty minutes after death, its electric spasms beating less and less as the seconds pass. He might have even seen it on television, the exact second her heart stopped, but now it's as if it never beat at all. Solid, grey, lifeless, he cuts it from its arteries and capillaries and places it in a jar with a smile. There was nothing to do with this other than keep it on a shelf, of course. No peacekeeper would ever want it, and any that did would be sicker than he would wish to interact with. 

Though heart vibes do survive, he'd never risk cutting the beast up just to find them already of no use. It was much more valuable in its current state, preserved, a memento mori of his own creation. He drowns it in embalming fluid and labels it Ivy ♡ before carrying on. 

There are no other organs of interest in her body, the kidney, liver and pancreas all already too far gone to the trickle of time. Instead, he turns his focus towards his sister's head - "what a shame," he tells it. "You didn't have to do all this, I'm sure we could have worked things out," possibly the last words he'll ever tell her face-to-face. He holds her still until he is able to clamp the head down by the temples, knife in steady hand. 

First, her eyes. Corneas make surprisingly well money over the fence, his aunt, Crimson, tells him so. The only problem is how difficult they are to remove and preserve, his fingers shaking as he pries her eyelids open in preparation. She stares up to the ceiling until he stands over in its way, forcing her to look at him one last time. He tries to find the words or the emotions, but there's nothing left to say to her other than goodbye, something he had already told her. 

So he cuts, starting the incision at the side of her face until he's able to lift the skin and observe underneath. In order to retrieve her eyes without damage, he has to make waste of the rest of her face, removing muscle and bone until he's able to get to what he needs. It's unsightly how her eyes are when she's unable to blink, he imagines his very own would look the same if he held them in his hands, too. They're to be shipped out in the next few hours, so he stores his sister's eyes in a bag, simple as, to be packaged with a pound of her flesh when all is said is done. 

There's only one more procedure to follow through before he can begin sawing her skin: her teeth. In District 12, these can't be more sparse, not a single can go to waste. And what pretty teeth she had, fortunate, being from the waste side of a shit hole. It really is such a shame she killed herself, he thinks to himself, she had so much going for her that others could only wish for. He's able to pry her mouth open and begin work with his pliers, pulling molars and canines and front teeth all the same. 

She had two cavities. 

Who knew? 

It almost unsettles him how he knows his sister better now, especially since it's all over now. There's nothing more she can do for him, so her remains will be disposed without a second thought, with no one ever seeing her again. A terrible way to go, he thinks, but also the only option she ever really had. One day, he imagines his kids will do the same to him. 

From that moment on, he decides he'd poison himself if he saw the day coming. 

Thirty minutes pass before he's able to salvage as much of her skin as he can, only removing his gloves and mask once it's all over. She's served her purpose, and now it's over. In a way, he's satisfied with it all. For the first time in his life, he's an only child, and it's a relief after all.