TW for death/dead body - - - The latest discovery lay huddled in the long shadow of the District walls, so close to the perimeter that the spotlights occasionally swept over the body without seeing it. It was a human- hardly more than sixteen- its frame swallowed by clothes several sizes too large. The expression frozen on his face was haunting- its brow was furrowed in the unmistakable lines of agony, yet its eyes remained fixed on the horizon with a wide, glassy glimmer of hope, as if it had died believing it was seconds away from a miracle. This one had porcelain aswell- it hadn't claimed it entirely. It manifested as a jagged, ivory-white patch across the knuckles of its left hand, looking less like a wound and more like a delicate ceramic glaze. But as the organic heat left his body and decomposition set in, the porcelain was gaining ground. It crept upward in a network of fine, hairline cracks, turning soft skin into cold, vitrified stone. It was a nauseating sight- nature being replaced by something rigid, sterile, and silent. They didn't speak as they worked. They handled the body with a clinical detachment that felt like a second death. Once bagged, he was loaded into the transport and directed toward the same sterile facility that held the previous victim. The porcelain was the only thing the scientists cared to save.
