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.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.))
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."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"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??))