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drabble/ leonardo's thoughts while dissecting
Every month, Leonardo would take some time to dissect the bodies of men (or women), very carefully taking notes and quick sketches of what laid beneath flesh. Fascination took him, particularly in how the bodies somehow knew how to make perfect systems, an organ connecting to the next. Beautiful, flawless yet not in its functions.
Though perhaps unfortunate that most did not know that undeneath skin they were mostly the same. (Other than health-wise, as he recalled from the degeneration of organs from unhealthy lifestyles)
He took care to be quick in his work, never wanting the smell of blood and rot to stick. But above all he did not want his thoughts to venture to who may lay on his table next.
He did not want to consider the possibility that one day, his finest specimen was the one he would never touch.
He did not want to know that one day, the eyes that stared back, devoid of life could be the warm ones that he loved.
These ones he did not know, but as he gave them a proper burial, he always remembered.
That one day it could always be L'Assassino lifeless on his desk.
Every month, Leonardo would take some time to dissect the bodies of men (or women), very carefully taking notes and quick sketches of what laid beneath flesh. Fascination took him, particularly in how the bodies somehow knew how to make perfect systems, an organ connecting to the next. Beautiful, flawless yet not in its functions.
Though perhaps unfortunate that most did not know that undeneath skin they were mostly the same. (Other than health-wise, as he recalled from the degeneration of organs from unhealthy lifestyles)
He took care to be quick in his work, never wanting the smell of blood and rot to stick. But above all he did not want his thoughts to venture to who may lay on his table next.
He did not want to consider the possibility that one day, his finest specimen was the one he would never touch.
He did not want to know that one day, the eyes that stared back, devoid of life could be the warm ones that he loved.
These ones he did not know, but as he gave them a proper burial, he always remembered.
That one day it could always be L'Assassino lifeless on his desk.