#gausia

Gausia sat infront of, well. It was better left to the imagination. It was dark, it was dank, it stunk a repulsive stank, and most importantly, it was where Gausia conducted her dirty work. And there was no better place for it.

In front of her laid. Well, someone. She didn't know who they were, what they did, how they lived their life... if they had any loved ones. All she knew was that they were dead. Long dead. Stone cold dead and gone. Their red blood has grown stagnant, and their insides were. Well. Outside. It was kinda gross.

It was really quite odd for her, to just... well, stare. Stare at the once troll, that now laid out on her operating table. Well, it was more like just a table. A slab for meat. Eugh. It was times like this where she was glad that she didn't regularly eat meat. Reminded her too much of her work. And her work wasn't always appetizing.

Putting on a mask and her gloves, she procured her tools of the trade. She neatly cuts the flesh of the right arm to the joint of the shoulder. Clipping tendons, trimming muscle, cleaning cartilage. All so that the arm can dislodge itself neatly and nicely, without damaging the bone.

It was weird, working with corpses. A lot better, and a lot quieter than working on living subjects, at least. Today was just more of a chance to explore, tinker, examine, and theory craft. Sure, she could just open up any text book and read whatever scholar had written down, but where was the fun in that?  Sometimes, it was more important to see on hand than what's in text!

She made an incision from under the forearm down to where she dislocated the arm from the shoulder, and began to slowly work the flesh off of the arm, exposing the bright red muscle and cartilage. What a beauty. What a miracle. She studied the veins, the muscle, the digits, and it's glorious shine...

But with such great framework, she had to wonder. How could she make it better? How could she make it stronger? How can she make the best troll, that not even nature could replicate? It made her grind her teeth, and whine under her breath. Oh, what only she would give to just be able to stretch, to meld, to grow the bone, the muscle. Or, as her eyes catch the discarded flesh and skin, how she could make the worries of broken bones, burnt flesh, and severed limbs a worry of the past. But how, damn it, how?

She ripped the flesh off of the bone, in a flight of inspiration that quickly left, and... hmm. The humerus, the ulna, the radius, the... many other bones that make up the hands and wrists. She really wasn't going to go over them, she only had so much patience. But the pitch black bone always caught her eye. But... nothing was coming to her. This stillness in her mind made her face contort.

Ugh. UGH. In a fit of disgust she flips the examination table over and stomps, cursing like a sailor. This was a waste of time, this was useless, this was pointless, this was dumb stupid shitty and all other points just fucking GARBAGE. Fuck that redblood, dropping his useless dead corpse on here without a care. Gausia had to clean this mess up, not him! What a worthless excuse for a troll. God.

She picked up her instruments, and discarded the flesh and meat off of the bone. At the very least the bones could be sold. Freaks liked to collect them, of all things. What disgusting sort of troll surrounds themselves with such grim objects? Maybe troll kind was doomed after all.

Perhaps she could use a living subject instead.

CC: “-… W-well, uhm… I kind@ just like to be, uh. On my b@ck. Or uh, doggy style. Those @re like, the only things th@t come to mind!!! Now stop @sking! =:c-“

-… I, don’t? I me@n, why would you even come to me with questions like th@t?! Why c@n’t people @sk @bout wh@t new invention I @m coming up with, or wh@t music I like, or how hot I find the l@dies or something!-