(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

that strange realm.
And one day, while he was hard at work cleaning the blood from a
dissection slab, a swish of cloth behind him announced her presence. Soego
knew the sound of those footsteps well.
"Scrubbing with the etch pattern of the metal is much more effective," she
said in that voice, warm and musical like the song of silver bells.
"F-Factor Seladril," Soego stuttered. Turning to face her he bowed
awkwardly.
She smiled, "I know you. Soego, yes? My, you've grown into a fine young
man."
He blushed, "I- I'm honored you remembered."
With a finger white as ivory Seladril ran a finger along the surface he was
cleaning, and examined the light layer of dead black and scarlet dust that
stained her skin, "It's been... what, a year since you first came to us?"
"Ten months, Factor Seladril."
"Tch. No need to be formal, Soego," she chided, turning to examine a
zombie swaying in the corner. One arm was hanging limp from its side... the
body was in need of some repair before it was put to work again, "You can
tell I'm not like many of the other Dustmen."
Soego nodded.
"Go ahead and ask, dear," she laughed, "Don't be shy. Everyone else did...
and my did they put me to the irons when my promotion to Factor was
announced."
"Y-you..." Soego started, taking a moment to calm his stutter, "You don't
seem like a regular Dustman."
Plucking through a tray, Seladril lifted a pre-threaded needle to her eye.
Examining it, she nodded, half in satisfaction, half in answer to Soego's
thought. She turned to stitch up the zombie's arm as she spoke, "I was a
Sensate a few years ago, a good one too. And one day I had decided to
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