deercountry | [Session 4] "And on the white meadow I look for deer’s footprints"

He'll reach out and with a touch like a feather, runs his spread fingertips along the surface of her wing. At the same time, he leans in slightly to get a better look, and in so doing, her may come close enough to breathe in some of her scent. "Magnificent... so beautiful... and the texture... are these scales or feathers, or somewhere in between?" Or does it matter, in the face of a marvelous person like her?

He has sense it may be wiser not to ask why she did not get her adult wings sooner. An accident? Illness? She has them now, better to let that joy alone. But the notion presents itself, the gears turning in his mind: How to make these wings permanent? How to help her retain this joy? Is there some way to tease it from her being and help her generate them?

All right, she had to admit it was a little strange, the touch of someone's hands on her wing. But she'd never let anyone touch her wings as a child and she'd been without them so long, she figured she'd just forgotten what it felt like.

She wondered what was going through his mind. It wasn't revulsion and she was grateful for that. She supposed he was thinking with a scientific sort of mind. That's what doctors did. Or tended to do, anyway.

Certainly, his question was a fair and thoughtful one.

"I always assumed they were feathers," she said. "Childhood wings aren't nearly as sturdy. And they fall away, the same way that Human children lose their teeth." Which was to say, she didn't actually know if they were feathers or scales. She'd never even thought to ask any of her elders.

"Hmm. There's evidence in my world of origin that birds descended from great lizard-like or dragon-like creatures we've called dinosaurs. Those were covered, it appears, in scales very like feathers, or something in between," he says, leaning in a little closer, close enough that. if allowed. his cheek might brush her hair. "Even before your wings appeared, there's something bird-like about you.

"I wonder... if you asked your Patron, if they would restore these wings permanently. Barring that, perhaps some matter of blood magick could help." Seeing her happy warms something in him and he wants this happiness in her to linger.

Ariadne was a bit sensitive about her hair. For a second, she nearly tensed. But it was Albert. He obviously didn't know about Alastrian hair. Just an accident. She stopped herself before she could embarrass either of them.

"I know dinosaurs," she said, smiling probably more fondly than she should have. "We saw them in Deerington once. Or...well, not in Deerington. I guess...because of Deerington?"

That seemed right.

"Because of Deerington. One almost ate my friend Sam." Which, she supposed, was beside the point. But it was important to her to talk about Sam. About all of the friends she'd lost. To keep their memories alive. And happy memories. Not the sad ones of their disappearances or departures.

As for asking her Patron... "Actually, I have a friend here named Varian. He's something of an alchemist. He said he would do some experiments on the chocolate. To see if he could recreate the serum." It would be convenient. Wings when she wanted them, none when she didn't. "Although...he's not sure it's possible."

He backs away slightly, sensing he's strayed too close into her space. "I should apologize, I didn't mean to narrow the space between us that suddenly," he admits.

"Ahh, in one of the sinkholes that appeared in November? It's hard to say if they were part of the town or caused by the town, but I suspect the latter is closer to the truth. I was a bit preoccupied with processing the strange bones which turned up. The good folk at F.E.A.R. had me analyzing them, which took a good deal of my time," he adds. "Outside of the threat to your friend, it must have been an exciting journey." It may be clear someone needs to get out of the lab more often.

"If Varian wouldn't mind an assistant, I'd be honored to help him. We'd worked alongside each other during the attempted portal construction," He adds with a small smirk, "He seems rather proud and protective of his work."

She shook her head, ready to tell him that apologies weren't necessary, but he was already moving on.

Humans--even those who were vaguely Human--had some funny ways about them.

Particularly the scientific ones. Ariadne actually laughed at little about Varian. "He's very proud of it. And protective. But if there's one thing I've come to learn about alchemists, it's that one of their favorite things is talking about alchemy with anyone who will listen."

Even people who didn't understand what they were saying. Maybe especially people who didn't understand what they were saying.

"Although I don't know that there's any reason to fuss over wings." She said it a big reluctantly, but with her thoughts on the practical. Although her eyes strayed to her beautiful feathers. "I suppose there are probably more important projects that need to be done."

"So was I, at that age," he says with a small, amused, even fatherly smirk. "And the same is true of bio-chemists like myself. I suppose alchemy is, as it were, the ancestor to the scientific research which I engage in.

He emits a soft snort of amused derision. "Nonsense. Your having your wings back is important to you and your integrity as a person. They clearly bring you happiness and wholeness." And while he generally puts his own happiness over that of others... he can't keep from wanting to help her to continue in some measure of this delight.

Her integrity as a person?

Ariadne couldn't say what he meant by that. But she knew he was trying to be kind. And she appreciated it. There generally wasn't enough kindness in Trench for her liking. Every little bit helped. Every little bit made a difference.

Who was she to discourage him?

At the very least, there was something to his remark about 'wholeness.' "I guess we all like the idea of going back and erasing some of the bad things from our pasts," she said, running a finger along the tips of her feathers. "We just usually don't have the chance."

And kindness is something that doesn't factor much in Wesker's mind, let alone his worldview, or at least not a genuine kindness that doesn't come as a component of tending a patient. Spencer and his other keepers had bent his mind to view kindness as a weakness. But here, he has escaped that reach and that influence. Here, he can rewrite his future, if not his past.

"I'm not certain we can erase the past; for some of us, the past has rewritten us. But one can always write a better volume to follow them," he says, reaching out and if allowed, running his fingertips up her wing to her shoulder, then gently cupping her chin, tipping up her face to look her in the eye.

Edited 2022-04-09 04:08 (UTC)

She blinked in genuine surprise at his touch. Most Humans were very, very standoffish when it came to touching other people. Especially around the face. It wasn't surprise enough to make her pull away--Humans weren't a monolith, after all. But it registered on her face.

"I...suppose that's true," she said. "A better volume is always something to seek."

He withdraws his hand quickly, looking down with a hint of guilt and contrition. "Forgive me. I suppose I've been in search of co-author for that next volume, willing to add their pages to it."

Her face split into a grin. "Well, why didn't you say so?" she asked, confused about why he was apologizing for that.

There was no shame in asking for help, after all.

"I'm happy to help you, Albert." It was kind of what she did.

"You'll have to be patient with me. My heart's been trapped in a labyrinth full of monsters, some of my own making, others that were unleashed by another. But perhaps you help me find my way out," he says. "In turn, I will protect you and tend whatever injuries you suffer here."

He might lean in slightly toward her, pausing, as if hesitating and awaiting her next move.

Ariadne honestly wasn't sure what was going through his mind, but she sensed a certain solemnity to his words. A little dramatic, too. But she was used to that. She'd dealt with Lady Adriana's sulky brother from time to time. Also trapped in a...well, not a labyrinth exactly. More like a permanently sour mood.

She tried to be patient and understanding.

When he leaned in, she frowned. Did he expect to shake on a deal with her? Humans liked to formalize things. So she reached out to clasp his wrist, giving him a firm shake. "I hope not to be injured too often!"

We admit, he has a flair for carefully placed dramatics, for all his pragmatism and practicality. The dramatic has its uses and its place even then.

He smiles, tilting his face slightly down before clasping her wrist, and while she'll sense a great deal of restraint and care in his grip, she'll also feel an intense strength held back. "I'll take all due care not to harm you any more than is necessary." A pause and he adds, "Twice a month, every two weeks... Wednesday, in the evening, unless you've other plans?"

"No plans right now," she said. "Although the city may come up with surprises. Which is to say...if I happen to disappear, don't take it personally. It's probably just Trench being Trench."

She felt a certain level of...well, permanence to the place.

True, others had returned to the sea. But Ariadne wasn't sure that she saw herself succumbing to the same fate.

Not any time soon, anyway.

"I've had a woman who was nearly my wife snatched away by the capricious hand of fate. It's taught me to let go lest the pain of separation tear too deeply at my heart." He presses her wrist gently, then leans in even closer, leaning down and if allowed, gently kisses her cheek, a touch so light, she might wonder if her mind made it real.

He surprised her again. For a Human, he was oddly affectionate.

But she didn't mind. She was still Alastrian. She missed the closeness that being part of a pack gave her. So if this Human was going to be part of a new pack well...

Well, all right!

Smiling, she dipped into a little curtsy. "Well, I'm not going anywhere."

"Nor am I. I suspect... my place in my world of origin has been emptied and now... my place is here in Trench." He lets her go gently. Perhaps it's self-conditioning, realizing how hollow it seems, as well as The Doctor's openness to everyone which made him realize what he'd cut himself off from. After all, in the last days of Deerington, The Doctor had told him point blank, "I think you're lonely." The part of him which remains human has retained this desire for closeness, the same part of him which desired to draw humanity up to his level, the same part which the mutated aspect of him despises and cringes at for its vulnerability.

"I'd best not keep you on the ground for long. The sky is yours for as long as your gift lingers." He steps back, giving her space for her take off.

[Session 4] "And on the white meadow I look for deer’s footprints"

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[CW: Misanthropy, poor socialization referenced]

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