deercountry | [Session 12] "It's strange what desire will make foolish people do"

Who: Albert Wesker (aka. Dr. Adrian Winters ...or Dr. Adrienne Winters) and... You!
What: February Catch-all (January Impact Summary, Wait For Me, Getting to Know You)
When: The last month of the Bone Moon time
Where: All over Trench, on the seashore, to be added to...

Content Warnings: Immobilization, dysphoria, loss of a loved one, virus as metaphor, and corruption symptoms in "Wait For Me" Emotional/psychological distress, religious weirdness, childhood trauma referenced, physical trauma referenced, misanthropy discussed, forced evolution discussed, event-specific self-harm referenced in "Mother's Mercy"

"Pretty girls don't cry, they know exactly what they want." January IC Impact Summary

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"The world was on fire and no-one could save me but you" - Wait For Me Early February

A cold grey day, like so many others this time of year, the sand as grey as the sky above, the ocean groaning under the cracking ice.

On a large rock above the tide line, a figure sits unmoving, a statue in ebony and ivory with hints of gold, a woman in a black suit over a white shirt, layered under a black leather duster, the skirts of the coat spread behind her, knees tented, elbows resting on them, her hands relaxed between them. Her red-gold feline eyes linger over the sea as she sits there, as if watching the tide for the Sleeper Squids arriving.

Linger long enough beside her and one's Omni might notify them with a text or perhaps even a voice message, a thoughtful, even melancholy baritone voice musing:

It's calling to me, but I haven't the heart to heed it. There's too much for me to do here and nothing left in my world of origin.

I wonder if her voice is in the chorus.

I wonder how many others have found what the sea took from them.

Time may pass. Return after a few days and the figure still lingers on the rock. Ice has formed on the figure, as if the salt spray from the sea has collected on them. An icicle hangs from one cheekbone, as if they had wept in the meantime.

One's Omni activates and a message scrolls across the screen:

What is love? It is the most dangerous, dare I say lethal virus I have known, and I have worked with pathogens that could kill a person and raise them back to a shambling unlife. Love either lifts one up and creates a higher state of living or when denied, leaves one in a state of pain for which there is no remedy.

I was better off before I contracted this pathogen. I was better off before it managed to slip past the inevitable one small gap in my defenses.

A week or more may have passed since the figure appeared on the stone and a change has happened. The female has Shed into a male, as evidenced by the sloughed skin collected at the base of the rock. And yet the male does not look as good as the female. The skin looks ashen and dry but not peeling. The red eyes have a dull reddish glow behind them, like the light of dying embers on a cold and empty hearth. The tips of the canine teeth protrude below his upper lip. Something seems to move under his skin and under his clothes. The tip of a black, tentacle-like protrusion might emerge from his sleeve or under his collar before quickly retracting.

I was better off as the cold, heartless sentient bioweapon I was manufactured to be, before I awakened here.

What good is having a heart when that heart can be broken? That old saw about it being better to have loved and lost does nothing to address the vulnerability it requires. Nor does it address the reality that some of us have had too much of their vulnerability exploited. I wonder how much suffering the inventor of that proverb experienced.

If one draws close, the eyes of the figure turn, honing in on the interloper, as if trying to freeze them into place. The Omni pings again. Don't come too close. The weapon is armed.

[Warning: Going by the Corruption route may result in his trying to attack. Be prepared for self-defense or talking him down from the rage he's gotten into.

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"I know when somebody's lying" - Getting to Know All About You February 20th

Perhaps a strange force pulls you sideways from whatever place you occupied and into a space like a strange cafe, two comfortable couches facing each other. In the one opposite sits a tall, blond male humanoid, clad in a set of tan medical scrubs, a concerned but curious pucker gathering his handsome features, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Something about his demeanor suggested the same force had pulled him from a work room, perhaps in the Lumenarium.

"This is rather sudden," the newcomer remarks, crossing his legs, putting his ankle on his opposite knee. "The Doorway must be especially firm this season, when it comes to pairing us off. This isn't the worst place I've been summoned into without warning." He glances to the button at his side. "Do we want to know what this thing does? I can do the honors of testing it, unless you would prefer."

If one tries to identify this Sleeper via their Omni, an absurd profile turns up.

"Did you just scan me with your Omni? I know I'm photogenic by human standards, but I'd prefer if you asked politely first," he says, with a dangerous but amused smirk.

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"It hurts so bad when you finally know just how low, low, low, low, low she'll go" - Mother's Mercy February 25th

Wesker does not consider himself a religious person, though he does believe that higher powers exist. His prior loyalty to Mother Superior came from a sense of self-preservation in a strange world. Finding her more ruthless than himself and shockingly similar in some ways to Spencer had weakened some of his loyalty. And then she seemingly abandoned him during the debacle which Bill Cipher's portal construction devolved into.

Even still, he ventures into the Pale Sanctuary, seekubg a document which a scribe at Soma pointed him toward, in his quest for information regarding the Zealots. Given Maul's statement that the Zealots must be curbed, he's taken it onto his shoulder. He'd undermined Umbrella Corporation and brought it down, thus espionage is familiar ground. A cult isn't too different from a corporation.

And as so often, this turned into an apparent trap. Guilt and regret he has pushed into the back of his mind. And yet for all that science has given him, for all the mutations and advances he has made, he remains human at his core. That core can still sense guilt.

"I only wished that humanity could share the same invulnerability," he says, kneeling before the image of Bausphomette, bracing himself with one gloved hand on the floor.

"You don't think I can understand pain? I know how trauma can affect a person, If I could help humanity to rise above as I have risen above, if they could heal as I can and be as strong and swift, they could reach their fullest potential.

He raises his head, eyes starting to smolder and glow, even as he reaches inside his coat, taking out a case containing several clean cannulas, selecting one. "If I harmed human subjects in the process, it was to discover what *wouldn't* work."

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"Baby did a bad, bad thing." - Wildcard!

Got an idea for something else? Feel free to toss me a PM or just toss in a toplevel on this post (and yes, all the song lyrics are from Chris Isaak songs.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It had been some time since Luz had seen her friend and surrogate uncle. She didn't like that feeling, particularly when things were becoming a little more grim. So Luz was making sure to keep an eye out, to see if she could spot and talk with Wesker. It was a late night of sweeping through the skies on Owlbert that she happened upon his figure,

Luz couldn't help but wince a little. He looked worse for wear, and knowing that he might very well be corrupted, Luz did her best to approach with caution. It was for naught though: he met her eyes and voiced the threat.

"Wesker? It's me, Luz! You've got to move from h-here, you look..."

Aw man. He really looked like porqueria.

Wesker's eyes cant upward, the dull glow in them brightening slightly, but only by a few degrees. Admittedly, he has been hard to find, thanks to a busy Lockjoint season and his own case of it.

Her Omni pings again and another message pops up.

Luz, my dear, are you gone mad? Get back if you wish to live.

The snake's tail moves toward its mouth.

Edited 2023-02-11 06:11 (UTC)

"But Wesker, I can't just leave you like this! You look bad!"

Not that she hadn't heard that part about needing to live though. That let her know that Wesker was trying to hold himself back, and if that was the case?

She'd have to tread carefully.

And I can't have you come to harm. I'm on the verge of falling into Beasthood. I'd rather you weren't there for that.

His eyes, still glowing dully focus on her. The tip of something sinuous, its surface black and oily-looking pokes from between the cuff of his sleeve and the cuff of his glove, retracting as suddenly as it appeared.

"I'll be careful."

This was going to be tricky though. He'd been there for her own corruption; it made sense she would attempt to help with his. The only trouble was she didn't know exactly how she would do it.

She saw the movement by his sleeve, and understood instantly that he was just barely keeping himself together.

"I might have a leftover mushroom for this," Luz said, trying to steel away her fear. It might not completely fix you, but it'll at least beat back some of the corruption."

This is a popular thing for Trench to spring on her this month, it seems. It keeps happening. He's a total stranger, so she does try the scan (successfully!) and arches a brow as she reads, and because she's committed to the bit, she looks several times to the invisible, nonexistent man the profile refers to.

"Okay, okay. But that's just how this goes, y'know. You see the hot person, you read the stupid profile." Maybe all of them aren't stupid. Hers, though? Her profile is ridiculous. It's fine, she'll own every word of it.

And she's finally figured out this is for dating. Which is worth another chuckle since she's gotten permission from her sister to wade into the dating pool if she so desires. So far, she's only metaphorically dipped her toe in, only to pull it back out.

"Not so great at remembering polite. They shoulda put that in my profile." she says and winks.

For the first few days, Sharon doesn't panic when she can't find Wesker at his home and clinic. It's Trench, after all, and shit happens here. It's only as it comes on a week that an uncomfortable worry begins to set in like a worm in her lungs, her chest tightening with a sick fear. A quick check of the network informs her that he hasn't returned to the sea but she can't shake this feeling something isn't right. She shoots him a text: Think your assistant is starting to worry.

It's only after a visit to the beach (a monthly thing she does: giving gifts to the ocean in hopes her mother may find them) does she spot him and her omni pings with the messages. Her stomach twists as she reads them over. What good is having a heart when that heart can be broken?

Even from a distance away, she can see something dark moving under his clothing, something foreign and strange. She crosses the distance between them in a jog until her omni pings again and she reads the warning. She slows but doesn't stop moving toward him.

"You've been gone a while," she tells him conversationally as if everything were normal, "I was getting worried."

He'd come to the shore for a similar reason, partly working the medical tents for the newly arrived Sleepers, partly keeping watch that the one who'd reopened the door to his heart might have returned. Leiermann had likely gone slightly mad trying to find him, going so far as trawling Cellar Door on a hunch he might have holed up with a Blood Courtesan, with no luck.

His eyes, still glowing dully, roll toward her. Another message appears on her Omni. Sharon, stay back. It's not safe for you to be this close. I can't risk breaking the promise I made to myself.

The circle is closing.

Something ripples in his throat and under the sleeves of his coat, but for now, it appears contained. For now.

Sharon stops in her tracks at the next Omni message, not frozen there but paused as she reads it over. She grinds her teeth, sucking in a breath of salty air as if to steady herself, "Then make it safe for me."

To someone else, it could sound like a demand. It may very well edge upon one, just barely, but it's punctuated with a plea. With something desperate and fearful.

As if in response to her emotions, something dark flits out from beneath the edge of the peter pan collar of her blouse. He may not wish her closer but he can't endanger her omen. The tiny butterfly, barely over an inch and a half wingtip to wingtip, drifts towards him & leaves wisps of curling shadow behind it. The creature bounces before his vision before it comes to rest upon the tip of his nose, wings flapping.

She snickered across from him, lounging as she glanced at the button before shrugging once. "No... No... let's not give my patron too much freedom. We can get to that eventually," she said off-handedly, making an idle motion with her hand. Despite her casual air, there was an element of nerves she was putting to the side. She looked a little nervously around the room, like she was forcing herself to be comfortable. Thankfully, it was easier with a friend.

"I believe we're supposed to be getting to know each other? My my, what sorts of questions should two old friends share?"

"You're probably my oldest remaining friend from the forerunner to this place, though we probably haven't opened many chapters to each other," he muses, glancing to the button beside his chair. "I'd thought this method was intended for persons seeking more intimate companionship, but I could be projecting my world's methods onto it.

"Well, we probably have some mysteries and pleasantries yet to reveal to each other." He reaches to the button, pulling up a question. "What's one memory from your childhood that you really appreciate?"

Edited 2023-03-02 06:16 (UTC)

"I am growing to become that for many, it seems," she noted with a bit of a bemused smirk. "There's a couple of us who just seem to have lingered here for a lifetime, not that I regret a moment of it. But yes, I believe that the intention is for 'companionship,' but I'm not about to skip finding my own options for making it my own."

She blinked at the question. Huh. "That's actually rather insightful. You know, I had to think about it a little. It's long enough ago. There was a time, long before you and I ever met. Before the war. When I still lived with my people. I remember my mother was teaching me how to dress when we went to a human town. It was to cover my eye. She would tell me it was to protect our people, because men hated us for it." I remember asking her that day. "But mother, don't they all know the coverings we usually wear?"

"Men only see what they want to see."

[Session 12] "It's strange what desire will make foolish people do"

Wicked Game!

(It was stuck in my head when I first started tinkering with this prompt.)

I like the Chris Issak kick going!

A good soundtrack for the month of Valentine's Day [CW: Mild body horror tentacle]

<--is rocking the "American Mcgee's Alice" soundtrack by random contrast

I know when somebody's lying!

wait for me

Re: wait for me

no subject

Getting to Know You

Re: Getting to Know You

CW For fantasy racism