is there no salvation? [open]

[Joy, Zacharias]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background-color:#282828][STYLE=background-color:#282828; width:112px; padding:18px;][STYLE=opacity:.8; background-color:#333333; padding:6px; width:100px][/style] [STYLE=background-color:#333333; padding:6px; opacity:.8; color:#777777; font-size:11px; font-family:georgia italic; text-align:center; width:100px]000 words[/style] [STYLE=padding:0px; opacity:.8; color:#777777; font-size:8px; font-family:verdana; text-align:justify; margin-top:8px; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:1px; width:112px]With eyes unimpressed You're sealing the conversations. And are you wondering how things could be? Just staring at the surface, When all the walls have tendencies. But it's not your fault when no one taught you how.[/style][/style]

[atrb=style, width:250px;][atrb=valign, top][STYLE=text-align:right; font-family:georgia italic; font-size:17px; background-color:#282828; line-height:16px; color:#777777; margin-left:-4px; padding:10px; padding-right:10px; margin-top:-1px;]how quick to forget, we are[/style][STYLE=font-family:arial; font-size:10px; letter-spacing:1px; text-align:justify; line-height:9px; padding:4px; background-color:#eeeeee; padding-bottom:5px; color:#777777]He couldn’t stand this place. There was not one place on this earth that made him feel so terribly small and inadequate – a feat considering Zacharias was a far cry from being helpless. No where but here did the weight of his past crimes against a people seem heaviest, make his scars itch and burn with phantom pain. Make him so very shamed to call himself a human being, let alone one of any decency. He could recount the days of his youth when naivette and eagerness had been a convenient blindfold for the atrocities he had witnessed, somehow he’d thought his cause to be greater than the all too obvious suffering. What a fool he had been. What a fool he was now. Dread and disdain moved freely in Zacharias’ dark gaze. The wharf hadn’t changed from its dreary ambiance, dark and heady with the happenings that were conducted out of sight of the general public. But everyone knew what happed, knew and simply ignored it. If one didn’t look at it then it simply wasn’t there to see. And that too had been how he had managed to conduct his research without succumbing to the guilt that had now begun to haunt him freely. A thick overcast of clouds marked the day as unpleasant winds churned the ocean waters and stole color from the sky. It was fitting but did nothing to help him generate enough calm to leave the relative safety of his car, now parked in the lot outside one of the warehouses. He tried to convince himself, Gods did he try to curb his guilt with the prospect of redeeming himself in these monthly visits to the shipyard. But his regrets were numerous and the remorse only waning when his eyes did not have to recognize the deeds done onto his patients. “Lord, give me strength.” An earnest plea for a fortitude he’d somehow misplaced. This wasn’t his first stopover at the holding cells where captured Shifters were unloaded from slaver ships for processing; there had been many occasions where his services had been requested in fact. Doctors who specialized in the treatment of Shifters was a commodity that had him regularly checking in and examining the imprisoned in order to assure buyers that their new pets weren’t disease-infested and likely to die. Not that a fair amount of those he treated didn’t thanks to that confounded battle arena. As pitiable as it sounded, Zach would much rather be here among the tortured and the alive, than the beaten and the dead. Upon his exit the good doctor was hit with a blast of cold air that had him momentarily stunned as he adjusted from the warmth of his car to the December chill. He wasn’t a fan and hastily wrapped his scar a little tighter around his neck as he leaned back into the car to retrieve his medical bag before locking up and making the short trip to the first warehouse. There were three in total, each housed at maximum twenty slaves as it was never a good idea to hold anything remotely dangerous in large numbers within feet of one another. They were just as likely to harm their fellow Shifters in their efforts to escape, as they were to their new handlers. His examinations were not extensive ones thanks to the temperament of some. Many he could diagnose without needing to touch them, bruised and feverish from the trip and capture. Others were too aggressive to be properly taken care of and only the worst of them who had obvious injuries were sedated and checked over. The whole process took three hours and by the end of the second block he was feeling the mental strain of having treated his patients. The money he received for this wasn’t enough for the turmoil and resentment it caused him, but if by treating these Shifters made them anymore likely to live to see beyond the docks he was willing. So finally, the last warehouse and, much like the others; the aggressive ones were not touched. Those who were more subservient he checked over with practiced hands and kept his features neutral and professional as he moved among the cells. It was from across the way that he spied three isolated cages – new arrivals? Gritting his teeth he moved toward them, eyes scanning from left to right. Male, late teens or possibly even early twenties with the angriest expression – not that Zach could blame him. The cell was small, dank and hardly what he’d consider hospitable. The sorry state of the holding bay should have prepared him for this but it never failed to amaze (and depress) him, how thoughtlessly humans could be when faced with creatures even remotely different from themselves. [/style]

[STYLE=font-size:9px; letter-spacing:1px]© OXYMORON OF BTN[/style]

[CALLOWAY, BAMBI]

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=border-bottom: 6px #10121b solid; font-family: verdana; font-size: 8.5px; padding: 1% 2% 1% 2%; text-align: center; margin-left: 30%;]words.706 notes.mind if join? [/style][style=float: left; border-right: 6px #10121b solid; border-bottom: 6px #10121b solid; margin-right: 2%; padding: 30 10 10 10; width: 100px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: justify;] and I say follow the light through the dreams and disasters follow the light to the edge and the after we won't turn around, we will not slow down follow the light through the dreams and disasters [style=background: url(http://i.imgur.com/yCWok.png); width: 100px; height: 100px; border-radius: 5px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;] [/style] Each of life's many circumstances were like individual coins. She wasn't sure where she had heard that, but it came drifting to her now as on the waves of the shore. The knot in her stomach called her arms closer and she hugged herself, dull gaze focused on the recently arrived slave ship. If this whole thing was a coin, then it was the dirtiest, most rusted coin in existence, no longer the color of whatever metal it was made of, but warped into some sickening green, covered in some foreign slimy substance, lying abandoned on the ground where innumerable feet could trample it further into the dirt. There was no 'heads' to this coin. There was only the side that one could balance on their finger without feeling disgusting. Now, if she could take that coin and drop it gently into some powerful cleaning fluid, perhaps this would all be worth it. That's what all of this was for. That's why she picked up dirty coins. That's why she stood here shivering, arms crossed tightly over her stomach, blue eyes gradually growing lighter with the strength of her conviction. This was the one thing she could actually bring herself to focus on, and it was vitally important that she be in the proper state of mind before going in there. She knew what to expect - she'd been in there before - but the images of these creatures oh so like humans themselves beaten into to hopelessness still shook her to her core. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and deliberately pulled her arms to her sides. Attention turned now to the holding cells nearby, she began tentative steps toward today's potential coins. As with literal coins, there was a careful balancing act to what she was about to do. No one could have any inkling as to what her true purpose was here, but she couldn't let the shifters think that she was only giving them an enticing offer so that they would come to her door willingly for work. Some of the shifters were beyond help, and while that fact pained her very soul, she knew better than to waste precious time on them. Only the coins that hadn't been completely buried could be saved from this place. Of course, she stopped when she saw something unexpected - or rather, someone unexpected. Normally people didn't come out so quickly for their new pets. It was a cold morning and people had better things to be doing, especially since newest arrivals likely hadn't been given the once-over yet. Her jaw set, angry. This wasn't supposed to be so difficult. An outside force aside from those selling the slaves would put yet another variable in her complex equation. For a moment - and her gazed turned back to the cleaner side of town - she debated leaving and trying again some other time. It was very tempting, and perfectly within her character. She huffed and turned back to cells. But she had already made the trip out and perhaps the guy wouldn't bother her anyway. Decided, she continued her walk, pace significantly more quick and heavy. Bambi truly wasn't the type for hiding anger. Usually when people knew a person was upset, they would make a point of leaving you alone for fear of making a scene. That should work well for her here, as long as she could hide it when she got close to the shifters, the coins, still revealed to the light. She slowed as she neared her first cell and peaked in. The creature was pitiful. It had already soiled itself, possibly more than once, and refused to look at her. She tapped gently on the bars, but that only made him flinch and turn his gaze farther away. That should have been the end to her test, but this one was so young and more terrified than anything she'd seen before. Gentle words whispered from her mouth in a quiet stream. The boy stopped shaking a bit, but still wouldn't look at her. She stepped back from the cell, and, having forgotten someone else was here, crossed her arms in the cold while she thought of a way to get through to him. [style=clear: both;] [style=font-size: 20px;]chasing disaster made by amb tanz [/style] ➔ [/style][/style]

[Joy, Zacharias]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background-color:#282828][STYLE=background-color:#282828; width:112px; padding:18px;][STYLE=opacity:.8; background-color:#333333; padding:6px; width:100px][/style] [STYLE=background-color:#333333; padding:6px; opacity:.8; color:#777777; font-size:11px; font-family:georgia italic; text-align:center; width:100px]586 words[/style] [STYLE=padding:0px; opacity:.8; color:#777777; font-size:8px; font-family:verdana; text-align:justify; margin-top:8px; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:1px; width:112px]With eyes unimpressed You're sealing the conversations. And are you wondering how things could be? Just staring at the surface, When all the walls have tendencies. But it's not your fault when no one taught you how.[/style][/style]

[atrb=style, width:250px;][atrb=valign, top][STYLE=text-align:right; font-family:georgia italic; font-size:17px; background-color:#282828; line-height:16px; color:#777777; margin-left:-4px; padding:10px; padding-right:10px; margin-top:-1px;]how quick to forget, we are[/style][STYLE=font-family:arial; font-size:10px; letter-spacing:1px; text-align:justify; line-height:9px; padding:4px; background-color:#eeeeee; padding-bottom:5px; color:#777777]It was with no small measure of discontent that the bearded physician meticulously checked the vitals of yet another of his forcibly incarcerated patients. For being a man reformed, what he saw here was enough to make him almost regret the transition if only to stem the berating flow of guilt that battered him senseless. The shifter, not even beyond the age of thirteen he’d surmised, looked utterly resigned. Dark eyes avoided his with staunch accuracy and determination that his heart clenched is abject misery for the boy. This child, who would never know the joys of youth, forever to be a plaything to those with enough clout to assert ownership over him as a possession or centerpiece, had given up hope of any kind. His arms and legs were mottled with yellowing bruises, smudged with grime and smelling tartly of excrement and ammonia that it wasn’t without effort that Zacharias kept his expression unaffected. This was a hell on earth. With careful hands he felt around the boy’s neck in search of telltale signs of swelling. Rather than finding traces of infection, any worthwhile excuse to have the child loaded and brought to the clinic for treatment, all he could discern from his preliminary examination was mild dehydration and a case of malnourishment. They were not substantial enough claims to have him removed from the holding bay, a fact that disheartened him as he removed himself from the situation and allowed the boy to scuttle back into the shadowy habitat of his cell. A slow burn formed in his chest, one not wholly unfamiliar or welcome in any respect but one he had a name for: resentment. It was a loathing that was not exclusive to simply those who chose to practice this obscene culture of slavery but of himself who had once seen the shifter population as nothing but entities to further his research. Their lives inconsequential, expendable, replaceable…what a monster he had been. In his frustration and self-hate the dark-skinned doctor turned away from the cell, as if that would in some way block the emotions that assuaged his cross-stitched heart. It was in that moment that movement was caught, the barest haze of motion on his left that had his instincts recoiling. Zacharias stiffened visibly; looking like he was ready to jump a foot in the air but this was not unlike him to be so jumpy. He could barely see from his left eye and the burn scars blazed dully at the reminder of the cause of that particular disability. Who was that? His throat tightened as he tilted his head to adjust for a better view of the girl who now stood gazing into the last unchecked sell. A buyer? The quick sting of disdain shaped his harried expression into one of mute disparagement. Warm breaths coiled into the cold morning air making the good doctor look like a seething beast hovering closely over something he was trying to protect, but suddenly not knowing what predator it was faced with had been forced into a silent vigil. The woman – girl since she did not look old enough to in his opinion – had coils of pink hair and offsetting blue eyes. Fair-skinned as she was the young lady looked almost unreal with the quiet fire in her stare as she tried to gain the attention of the shifter in the cell who apparently wanted nothing to do with her, which inadvertently meant he would be facing another difficult patient. Giving a soft, tired sigh he took two steps in her direction before stopping. “I’m sorry Miss but these ones aren’t for sale just yet,” still believing she was a buyer and keeping his tone carefully bland and unassuming, professional by all rights. “I’m still checking them over as these are in quarantine, the ones for sale are along the other wall.” Going as far to point out the rows of cages with potential ‘pets’ she might deign to choose from as he opened the cage and smiled sadly as the occupant shrank further upon himself if such a thing were possible. [/style]

[STYLE=font-size:9px; letter-spacing:1px]© OXYMORON OF BTN[/style]