Project W Subject 013 ("Albert Wesker") (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
subject_013) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2021-09-29 01:46 am
subject_013) wrote in deercountry2021-09-29 01:46 am
Entry tags:
[Session 1] "Never an honest word/But that was when I ruled the world"
Who: Albert Wesker subject_013 and ...You.
What: Settling in and the city unsettling him
When: early through late September
Where: Around the city and elsewhere
Content Warnings: Fantasy misanthropy in the Around Trench prompt. Blood and injuries mentioned/discussed in Lumnenwood prompt. Event-specific warnings in linked thread
Around Trench - Early September
The piratical look he'd acquired isn't going to work for long, now that's found his way inland, and especially as he feels more at ease in a suit. That look has more of a sense of his self, even though he has put behind him the chapter of Spencer's science project or the sequel as the BSAA's resident sentient B.O.W. and necessary evil. In Lumenwood, he browses the racks at Peggy's Aid before finding a pair of blue-tinted glasses in an older style. "The romantic Victorian types would love these," he murmurs, ordering a few back up pairs. Then again, this world lives in the spectrum of romantic Victorian. To this, he adds a couple pairs of blue contact lenses, for the odd days when he'd prefer to keep his abnormal eye color concealed.
He'd discovered, on the top shelf of his wardrobe, a locked gun safe containing his Samurai Edge pistol and an extra clip. While he'd taught himself how to quickly reload the flintlock pistol he'd taken from a dead pirate, he preferred tp save that for another purpose, while reserving modern firearm for typical protection. In which case, he'd need ammunition for the semi-automatic, and so he heads to Prufrock, seeking out enhanced bullets at Shape of Blood, a vital necessity in a place like this, and offering some of his own dried and powdered blood to be mixed with the gunpowder.
In Willful Machine, he browses the clothing shops, finding off the rack Edwardian black suits: practical, though they fit somewhat loose through the shoulders and tight through the hips. Layered over one of several royal blue shirts, the look fits him and yet allows him to blend better into the local style. Rather than looking like he's stuck in the 1990s, he's embraced a loom lifted from the 1890s.
In Gaze, he sits in on several classes at the School of Mutter, a quiet presence in the back of the lecture hall, jotting notes.
At the amusingly named Glover Lover, he found a few accessories vital to his work: a few black gaiter style face masks, necessary with the blood tinge in the air of Lumenwood, especially out of doors. Also, he found several pairs of black leather gloves, fitting snug through the fingers and just loose enough through the wrists.
And then on a hanger on the back wall, he spots a black leather duster. just the right length and with the proper heft. He slipped into it, letting it hang from his shoulders, the hem falling around his ankles in a familiar swagger. "It's perfect..." he murmurs.
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Lumenarium - Throughout the month
One of the newer apprentice Blood Ministers at the Lumenarium seems to spend a fair amount of time late in the evenings, either at work analyzing samples under an analogue microscope and either collecting or administering transfusions to any injured brought in for treatment. He works diligently yet quietly, impassive and seemingly intent behind the blue tinted lenses he wears at all times. The proctors and senior Blood Minister seem to hold him in a certain amount of respect, but others also seem to take second glances at his greenish-tinted complexion
Eventually someone might find him patching up some of the patients brought in. No injury, no matter how horrific, no matter how grave or how panicked the patient, seems to faze him. The more troublesome and argumentative ones even bring the shadow of an amused smirk tp his face before he resumes his ministrations.
At other tines, he might be spotted drawing glass vials of his own greemish blood or sitting calmly under a transfusion rig, blood of any color in the jar above him and the cannula taped into his forearm, as he jots thoughtfully in a journal with his unoccupied hand.
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"I'm just a puppet on a lonely string/Oh who would ever want to be king?" - Event Top Level
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subject_013 and ...You.What: Settling in and the city unsettling him
When: early through late September
Where: Around the city and elsewhere
Content Warnings: Fantasy misanthropy in the Around Trench prompt. Blood and injuries mentioned/discussed in Lumnenwood prompt. Event-specific warnings in linked thread
Around Trench - Early September
The piratical look he'd acquired isn't going to work for long, now that's found his way inland, and especially as he feels more at ease in a suit. That look has more of a sense of his self, even though he has put behind him the chapter of Spencer's science project or the sequel as the BSAA's resident sentient B.O.W. and necessary evil. In Lumenwood, he browses the racks at Peggy's Aid before finding a pair of blue-tinted glasses in an older style. "The romantic Victorian types would love these," he murmurs, ordering a few back up pairs. Then again, this world lives in the spectrum of romantic Victorian. To this, he adds a couple pairs of blue contact lenses, for the odd days when he'd prefer to keep his abnormal eye color concealed.
He'd discovered, on the top shelf of his wardrobe, a locked gun safe containing his Samurai Edge pistol and an extra clip. While he'd taught himself how to quickly reload the flintlock pistol he'd taken from a dead pirate, he preferred tp save that for another purpose, while reserving modern firearm for typical protection. In which case, he'd need ammunition for the semi-automatic, and so he heads to Prufrock, seeking out enhanced bullets at Shape of Blood, a vital necessity in a place like this, and offering some of his own dried and powdered blood to be mixed with the gunpowder.
In Willful Machine, he browses the clothing shops, finding off the rack Edwardian black suits: practical, though they fit somewhat loose through the shoulders and tight through the hips. Layered over one of several royal blue shirts, the look fits him and yet allows him to blend better into the local style. Rather than looking like he's stuck in the 1990s, he's embraced a loom lifted from the 1890s.
In Gaze, he sits in on several classes at the School of Mutter, a quiet presence in the back of the lecture hall, jotting notes.
At the amusingly named Glover Lover, he found a few accessories vital to his work: a few black gaiter style face masks, necessary with the blood tinge in the air of Lumenwood, especially out of doors. Also, he found several pairs of black leather gloves, fitting snug through the fingers and just loose enough through the wrists.
And then on a hanger on the back wall, he spots a black leather duster. just the right length and with the proper heft. He slipped into it, letting it hang from his shoulders, the hem falling around his ankles in a familiar swagger. "It's perfect..." he murmurs.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lumenarium - Throughout the month
One of the newer apprentice Blood Ministers at the Lumenarium seems to spend a fair amount of time late in the evenings, either at work analyzing samples under an analogue microscope and either collecting or administering transfusions to any injured brought in for treatment. He works diligently yet quietly, impassive and seemingly intent behind the blue tinted lenses he wears at all times. The proctors and senior Blood Minister seem to hold him in a certain amount of respect, but others also seem to take second glances at his greenish-tinted complexion
Eventually someone might find him patching up some of the patients brought in. No injury, no matter how horrific, no matter how grave or how panicked the patient, seems to faze him. The more troublesome and argumentative ones even bring the shadow of an amused smirk tp his face before he resumes his ministrations.
At other tines, he might be spotted drawing glass vials of his own greemish blood or sitting calmly under a transfusion rig, blood of any color in the jar above him and the cannula taped into his forearm, as he jots thoughtfully in a journal with his unoccupied hand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I'm just a puppet on a lonely string/Oh who would ever want to be king?" - Event Top Level
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wildcard
<small>((OOC: Lyrics borrowed from "Viva la Vida" by GregorianGot an idea for something not covered here? Feel free to toss it on here, or PM me on this account. I'm quite open to ideas.))
Lumenarium
"Settling in well, I see," she said, glancing over at him but not at the apparati. "Have people been adding samples to the stock much yet? I suspect that will take time for them to get used to."
Re: Lumenarium
"I've found a place here, expanding my knowledge base and skills. They need personages with medical knowledge, and I require a steady supply of blood to maintain my enhancements," he replies. Looking over the pool, he adds, "Mostly the local native folk and the elder Sleepers come this way to make their offerings, but some of the more recently arrived folk have approached as well. Hopefully more will follow in your footsteps.
"Settling in as well?" he asks.
no subject
"I'm growing accustomed to the idea of blood as a precious commodity. I'm not sure how much I want to participate in the trade, so I'm taking it a step at a time. But still, today, I think perhaps an exception is in order. After all, this would be the best way to get what I need, since blood is what I need."
no subject
He kneels before the pool, almost reverently, lowering the jar into the blood, letting it fill. "It helps keep the ecology in balance, putting back what resources one takes and utilizes. I suppose the same applies to a world where blood is as much the local currency as it is part of the ecology. And more than that, more like the natural sacrament, if I might wax vaguely religious."
no subject
"Waxing theological are we? Oh how the world and times may change." Yes, she had a feeling there was a bit of ironic humor there, but it was still fun to say.
[CW: God complex mentioned]
He may chuckle gently in his throat. "I was never particularly religious, though I believe in a Higher Power who set my world of origin in motion and then sorely left it to its own devices. Here, it seems the gods of this world take a more hands-on approach." Less temptation for someone to reach toward godhood; rather, he's taking the role of a fallen angel finding its wings again. "And let us hope their hands remain benevolent." He lifts the jar, letting the extra run off the side of the jar before rising with it. "Care to walk with me as I bring this to the operating theatre where it's needed?"
no subject
"I would be happy to take a stroll, yes." She shifted from the wall and came alongside him as they started to walk. "A deist? Somehow? I'm not entirely surprised that you would take the clockmaker's view. It was never common in my world, but equally most did not think of the gods. Those of light were dead and know it or not we dwelt on their corpses, crystallized to stone. Those of death were gone for thousands of years. Some cultures adopted an attitude like that, though most still acknowledged them by name. The more distant from the act, from the actor, the easier it is to see things that way."
"Here?" She glanced around and nodded with a thin frown. "One need only visit Cassandra to see how different it is." No, the tone of her voice did not speak well for that district. she really did not like it there.
[CW: Fantasy misanthropy mentioned]
"The Disciples at least have their uses, but something about them gives me pause. I don't spend a lot of time in Cassandra, outside of purchasing incense and donating portions of my own blood to be used in an incense blend." A dry chuckle, then he adds, "Ironic that Vileblood makes especially effective incense, and yet some locals are superstitious at best around those who *have* Vileblood."
no subject
"Ironies abound." She grunted and shook her head. "But I will admit that if I can find a way to get incense outside of them, I will be happy to do it. I'm not sure about anyone that trusts the Pthumerians that much."
no subject
"I trust the Pthumerians about as far as I can throw them, and we'll say I've thrown a three thousand pound object as if it was made of cardboard. Though it is tempting, to find a world where the gods show their face more than they do in my world of origin. That may not be a good thing."
no subject
"Take the Moss King. Like the monkey's paw, you can trust him to grant your wish and fulfill a bargain or a wager won, but you can also trust him to always exact an unexpected price, to get you in over your head. Some are ... probably safer. Probably." There was another frown. "I think... I know who Doorway is. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. But I bear that one no ill will."
no subject
"They're clearly working at a different angle to objective reality as we know it. How can we expect them to see it as we do. Dare I admit, that I envy their viewpoint as well as their abilities?" he says. Especially in this place, and since he's attempting to turn over a new leaf, transparency seems the better policy.
"If I had to guess... one of Moon Presence's anceestors?"
no subject
"I don't, but I have never envied gods." A firm shake of the head. "I believe she was the entity trapped in the boats along the mountainside, unable to leave, waiting forever with the deer trapped with her. I do not know if there is a relation there."
no subject
"What a pair we make: one who puts gods in their place and the other who has striven for godhood," he muses, dryly, though he clearly appreciates her hand on his leash, that her influence still applies here. More serious yet intrigued, he continues, "Ahh, one I'd heard about, but I don't think I'd encountered. It fits better than my theory.
"Have you heard talk of the patron Pthumerians, ones which take an interest in particular Sleepers?"
no subject
"Yes, I've been looking into them. Mine is apparently Doorway... though I have my suspicions on that one. Quite a few, actually. Nothing terrible, just... I think I know them."
no subject
"I appear to fall under Bausphomette's patronage. A five year old version of me, going through my zoology phase, would have been thrilled for this. I'm not which I feel called toward, but I suppose we're the ones being called to, in a manner of speaking."
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"And dare I say, you've been instrumental in helping me open a door in my own defenses, though I may... keep a close watch on the door and whoever enters it.
He smirks, but at this close range, she might catch a glimpse, through his dark lenses, something thoughtful ticks in his eyes. "I've lost count of the number of times I've died and been reborn, but arriving here is roughly my fourth or fifth rebirth. Hopefully, it will be the last."
At this moment, a proctor approaches, looking from Wesker to Vira-Lorr. "Has a donor arrived, Winters?"
"She's also an old friend from Julia's nightmare," Wesker replies, a little protective.
no subject
"Dr. Winters is going to help me with a condition, I believe. There will likely be a small donation as a result, though I'd be careful with it." That got an 'ah' moment from the proctor. Lockjoint was a well known condition after all. "There might be a few small crystals at the least."
When they stepped back, she smiled over at him. "I'm glad you're here, by the by. It.. helps me come in. When I need to. You know. to know someone I trust in this place."
no subject
"Any time that you require treatment, don't hesitate to ask for my assistance. It's a pleasure and an honor, and... dare I admit, I feel that I can express my usual dark wit around you," he muses. "I've been striving to improve my bedside manner, but I suspect my work in research has overspecialized me to some extent. However... perhaps you can help me in that regard?" It seems a good trade in his mind, another doorway for her to help him to open, and another way to reshape part of himself.
((OOC: Good place to leave them??))