subject_013 | deerington/deercountry Inbox

"And I'll have chocolate milk to forget the day's usual taxing and possibly traumatic effects!"

With no milk, sadly.

"Ooh, mushroom steaks! Yes, please!"

Not Chris.

[But the voice is familiar, and the username clinches it. Leon sounds much older and much more tired than any recordings Wesker might've obtained of him over the years, but there's a hint of the cocky young agent from Spain still remaining in his voice.]

I'd like to talk. And I do mean talk—you've been here for a while and I've just arrived. I'll even come without weapons to a meeting place you pick, and I'll trust you to do the same. [Despite my better judgment, Leon doesn't say. There's no real trust here, but a cold, pragmatic calculation: Wesker's been here longer than Leon has been, if he's established a lab and everything. Leon's already at a huge disadvantage, and it's in his best interests not to start a fight.

As much as it makes his skin crawl to actually talk to Wesker, he's going to have to. He doubts they can avoid each other for long, so Leon might as well get this over with.]

[The voice that replies is likely that of a ghost come back from beyond. If Leon has heard any voice recordings, the voice sounds rather like it would have around the time of the mission in Spain.]

Wesker here... Hmmm. But still someone from my world of origin. Found your way to this world created in a nightmare? [There's a hint of holding out just enough information to tantalize, but withholding the rest.]

You certainly get right to it, but I'd expect nothing less from someone as direct as you. I'd be pleased to share my knowledge of this place - and its predecessor. There's a dive bar near The Red. I frequent it, meeting a Night Walker who also doubles as a Blood Donor. Shall we meet there later this night? I assure you, I shan't have any unnecessary hardware. Though I suppose your colleagues have described me as more or less a bioweapon that's retained their personality and intellect. [He sounds as confident and collected as ever

I may arrive late. I work at the Lumenarium as a Blood Minister and that often has me on call. But I assure you, I'll be there.

[Damn him, it's very tantalizing.]

Yeah, just a couple of days ago. [No real point in hiding how new he is, when he can't quite get the smell of the ocean out of his clothes and hair just yet.] Sorry to disappoint, I know you were probably expecting someone else.

[His tone is light and breezy, but underneath is a deep, deep amount of mistrust. But Leon gave his word he'd come without weapons, and he's under no illusions about his chances in a fight up against Wesker.]

They also said you were dead. [Although from what he's been told it would not be the first time. Still, most things die when you drop them into a volcano and fire a rocket launcher at them, so he's curious how Wesker is apparently not dead. And younger-sounding?] Among some other choice words for you.

[He notes down the unfamiliar term, the location of Wesker's workplace. Avoid the Lumenarium, then. Leon doesn't entirely trust a place that would employ someone like Wesker in any capacity near biological material.]

That's fine, I can wait. I've got nowhere else to be. [And frankly a dive bar is perfect right now. It's probably a better idea to talk to Wesker sober, but—there's a whole team dead back in Washington because of Leon, and now he has to talk to the man responsible for so many people dead. Fuck being sober.

...god he needs to be at least mostly sober, doesn't he.]

"Two steaks, comin' up. Ye'll eat here, or ye want a room for the night?" the host says, moving toward the kitchen.

"Your choice: I have a feeling you'd prefer a spot by your furry friend here by the fireside," Wesker muses. The late summer night is cool enough to suggest autumn, and he wouldn't mind dinner by the fireside.

"Do you usually have a room here by yourself, Wesker?"

Luz asked this as she was petting the dog and rubbing his tummy, of course. Luz was not a girl who was going to miss a chance to pet a dog but was still going to have conversation with a good friend while having a hot meal.

"My first time here. I gather we're both strangers in this strange new land," he muses. "A sequel to the story we both lived in Deerington." He takes down his Bag, digging into it and taking out the Journal, removing a cartridge pen from inside it. "I suppose it's a bit soon to make plans for the future, but I've always been one to think at least three moves ahead.

"And I think your canine friend there hopes that one of our plans involves spending some time here with him," he adds, warmly and even indulgently.

"Ah. Just making sure!" Luz said, taking note of him already taking out a pen and logging something into his notes. That actually reminded her of Dipper a bit, though she imagined that was where the similarities ended. Clearly Wesker had his own reasons for writing down whatever he was thinking right now.

"A pretty strange sequel too, what with all the blood and everything," Luz said, still petting the dog who had now designated Luz's lap as his new pillow. "Thinking of a new bunker, in case things get crazy?"

Luz had not forgotten the final weeks of Deerington, where just staying alive was a daily struggle.

[Maul's fiendish delight in the holiday means he's once again broken into people's houses and used all the stealth he possesses to leave those he likes a gift or two. Sometimes, he even goes right down the chimney like a demented version of Santa Claus. Given how alike he and Wesker are in temperament and personality, Maul is sure he will enjoy the two gifts Maul has gotten for him. They're accompanied by a short note.]

Here's to living through another year to spite everyone else's expectations. Merry Christmas. ~Maul

[Cypher likely heard the clatter and bounded out to see what was the matter. The commotion gets the attention of Cypher's Sleeper, who awakens and shuffles to the front room.]

[Which is when Wesker finds the packages under the evergreen he'd set up in one corner of the porch room. The note brings a smirk to his lips and he knows he has to raise the bar a little on the gift he had in mind.]

[A few days later, Maul might hear some scratching about on his roof, before he finds some peculiar art and an ornate bottle of some of the local mushroom wine, along with a note.]

An elixir worthy of a living god. And this time next year, may we still be here, despite our enemies' best efforts to force a quietus upon us.

She might catch the beginning of an entry albeit viewed upside down, as he pauses while writing. "It's rather like the gothic tales I read as young teenager, only far stranger, since we're living it." The sight of her snuggled with the canine might soften his smirk a bit.

"I'm jotting a few observations, though once I find a house of my own, it will give me a foundation to build from. A roof of my own as well as some private space in which to work and build a library. But also with a bolthole for the times when the place turns stranger than I can handle on my own."

It was a shame that Luz couldn't read it, remaining blissfully as unaware as she was. "You know, I might have even read something like that too, in fanfiction my mom didn't know I had access too. It was just not something I often read."

And now she didn't have to imagine it at all, much to her chagrin.

"That sounds like a good idea! I'd be looking for one myself if I didn't live in an ideal situation. Chances are that we'll have a few ways to hunker down and stay protected ourselves in case things get really dicey."

"Hmmm, if you were a smidge older, I'd recommend a few authors. Sometimes their content can get a bit intense, at least by suggestion. But, a good entry level novel would be the mother-monster of them all, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

"Hopefully, the powers in this place will grant us some clemency and a respite in which to be settled. Though the pirates on the seas weren't precisely a harbinger of hope," he muses.

At that moment, a girl who could be the innkeep's red-haired daughter approaches with a tray with their, keeping her gaze modestly averted, though Wesker might give the girl a bit more than a once-over, not perversely but with a definite appreciation for a Titian-haired damsel. "Your meal should be ready soon," she says, softly before scooting back to the kitchen, peeking over her shoulder, as if making sure there's no trouble.

"I think she's leery of me."

"Luckily everyone in my worlds' heard of Frankenstein, but I haven't gotten to read the book yet. I'll be sure to go pick it up if I find it in the library. I don't mind reading something that's supposed to be out of my age range!"

What did that really mean anyway, when you had seen and heard as much as Luz had this year and a half anyway?

"The pirates were kind of on the low end of danger though, for me. I mean, I robbed them and managed to escape. I'd say that the farm, or those parasites were the really bad part."

Luz paused when the girl came by, and Lus gave her a bright smile and her thanks.

"She was really pretty! You're pretty imposing, to be fair. Maybe she's just shy?"

So new to this place. [He says this almost as if he's thinking out loud.] But you wouldn't be wrong: I've been mentally bracing for that boy scout to find his way here. [The contempt for Chris is palpable but contained.]

Ahhh, so you've arrived from a point after my timeline, for lack of a better term for it? I arrived in this world's predecessor as well as this place well before my ...unfortunate demise. It's hard to explain, but I've had a peek at my fate - several potential ones, in fact, but that's better discussed face to face.

On that note, I'll see you this evening. Farewell, till then. [The call may cut out.
--------
[The bar has a rough-genteel look to it, something like a hunting lodge on some British lord's property: a fire on the hearth, heavy rustic wood furniture and smoke-darkened prints in frames on the walls, depicting fantasical hunts: Hunters riding strange horses, running down strange Beasts, like things out of a fever dream or a weird fantasy - or something straight out of their shared world of origin. The clientele consists of Hunters and a few tough but still attractive Night Walkers, even a few more rough and ready Arcane Scholars, including a lean, dark-haired woman of hard to determine age wearing thick glasses and writing in a black leather covered journal, and a grizzled old Hunter sitting by the street door, the place presided over by a tall, husky female barkeep who looks like she can hold her own with any number of rowdy Hunters.]

[The grizzled Hunter might sit up a little straighter, his gloved hand going to the crossbow at his side, as the street door opens and a long shadow falls across the flagstone floor.]

Edited 2022-01-27 07:21 (UTC)

If he does get here, I'll—talk him down. He can be reasoned with. [Leon knows this from personal experience, he'd managed to talk Chris down from that fury he'd been in while in Lanshiang.] As long as you're not up to your old tricks, anyway.

[Underneath that seemingly light tone is a threat: if Wesker does get up to his old tricks, Leon will do what he has to do.]

After your timeline? What, there's time travel involved? [The most tired sigh. Jesus fucking Christ. Zombies and Wesker and all this multiverse travel shit weren't enough, apparently, now time travel's getting involved. Leon pinches the bridge of his nose—it's a good thing he'll be meeting with Wesker in a dive bar, because this is a lot to handle already.

He'd ask more, but Wesker's already shutting down any more conversation.] See you then.

[Indeed, Leon makes it to the bar as soon as he can, taking note of the number of strange prints depicting fantastical creatures and hunts. His eye is drawn to one in particular depicting what he knows is a BOW, being run down by a hunter on a horse. Seriously, a horse?

He orders himself some whiskey, sits at the counter, and is nursing it and watching the clientele when the door opens. Leon, to show that he's willing to play nice, pushes out the stool beside him, but he doesn't beckon the bartender over. Wesker can barter for his own damn drinks, Leon might want answers but he doesn't owe the guy shit-all.]

"You'll find it's quite different from most of the movie versions: the book makes one wonder which the monster and which the human, the doctor or his creation?" He says this with a note of seriousness, as if he's gone down that dark passage and thanks to The Doctor, he's taken a hard look at what came out the other end of the passage.

"Admittedly, my strength has been all over the map. Of course it had to fail me when I was in the middle of dealing with those pirates. Though ...that's when I found that ingesting Blood restored my enhancements," he notes, with a weight to his words suggesting how he discovered that.

"I do have that effect on most people," he adds, taking the cork from the wine bottle and filling his glass, then doing the same with the bottle of milk and it's accompanying cup, holding the latter out to her. "Shall we make a toast?"

Much appreciated. There are... worse things here than I, capable of far more damage. [He says this completely serious, not a trace of flippancy.]

One of several timelines that are or could be or could have been in our shared world. But I believe we share the same one, albeit with a different outcome for me. However, that's something better discussed face to face.
-----
[The barkeep might have one hand under the counter as the door opens wider before closing and a soft, but measured footstep strides across the floor, accompanied by the creak of a leather coat. The shadow creeps up the wall behind the counter.]

A bottle of the usual red wine, if it's available today, Emenri?

[The barkeep gives the newcomer a nod and goes in search of the interloper's request.]

Well. At last encountering the fellow who bedeviled me in that Spanish village. Greetings, Mister Kennedy.

[If he looks up, he'll find the bane of his world of origin standing behind the barstool next to his. Wesker appears to have gone native, given the Victorian-esque three piece suit he's wearing under his black leather duster. Outside of that, with his hair slicked back and the dark glasses hiding his eyes and the small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, he's unmistakable.]

"I always kind of thought that the creator was the monster though. Wasn't he the one making a person out of dead body parts? It's not like they can give consent, and usually if you do something like that it's considered grave robbing, right?"

She was a little surprised at how seriously he said that though, as if it was something she should commit to memory. It occurred to her that he might have done some unscrupulous things in his past. She'd ask about that later.

"How exactly did you find that out? I'm assuming you didn't go all full vampire on one, right?"

How WOULD he find out something like that anyway?

"I'm waiting to see if you think that's a good thing or not," Luz said, grinning. She took her cup, and brought it up to his. "To current and good friends?"

"To give my assessment? I saw a little of both, of humanity and monstrosity, in the creator and the creature. I suppose, I've been involved in some at best questionable things done in the name of science," he admits, but there's a chariness in his tone now, as if he's not ready to disclose this.

He smirks at her question, regarding 'going full vampire'. "Almost, though not quite, initially. I was able to fend off several of my captors, but my strength abated and five of them pinned me down, with only my head free. I defended myself in the only way I had left: I bit the nearest one in the arm, hard enough that I drew blood. That taste gave me a boost of strength and I was able to break free and fight them off. I would have consumed it in a civilized way, but I didn't exactly have any syringes on me. One does what one can. I've been warned by some of the Wakers that folk with Vileblood are regarded as the source of inspiration for tales of vampires, and I'd had people in my world of origin say I looked like a 1990s vampire. Leaning into ones clichés isn't such a dire thing."

"We'll say, the people who don't find me so alarming are the ones most adept at getting through the defenses I'd raised about my spirit. That would include you," he says. "To fine company and the strength and cleverness to rise to whatever this town can and will toss our way," he adds, clinking his glass against her cup.

[Emenri, huh. Leon files that name away for later, and looks Wesker over. Huh, he really has gone native under that trademark duster of his. Were Leon younger, he'd hope that meant Wesker would at least think twice about burning this world to the ground if he lived in it, but he's not that person anymore.

And certainly he's older now than the agent who threw a wrench into Saddler's and Wesker's plans while trying to rescue the president's daughter, all those years ago. His hair's darker and a little longer, and while true to his word he hasn't brought any weapons, his hand still goes to his belt out of instinct, where he'd have a knife sheathed if he'd brought one. He's older now, significantly so, and more haunted.

Better at holding his alcohol though, at least, if the ease with which he knocks back his shot is any indication.]

Wesker. [Flat, and unimpressed.] I thought that was more of a team effort, really. You should try hiring more loyal and competent people next time—one out of two seems to end disastrously for you.

[Smartass. But Leon's not here to sass Wesker, he's here to get information, so he goes ahead:] Earlier, you said there were worse things here than you. Care to talk about those?

Yup, that was definitely the voice of someone who had been a little bit of Doctor Frankenstein himself and was fully aware of it. It was probably better that Luz didn't ask all about it right now, as that kind of query was bound to lead down toward other directions she might not want to go yet.

"Ohh, now I get it! I should have remembered you were Vileblood. Luca has to consume blood too! I just figured that might be something you got from your world: after all, in Deerington, we had a vampire ourselves, though I guess she wasn't going around draining people whenever she wanted. I just happened to lose the lottery on that one, not helped by the fact that I was pretty, uh, drugged up at the time."

"Drugged out" would have been more appropriate for what was happening to her at the time, but that was neither here nor there.

"It has been said that I can befriend just about anyone!" Not that Luz thought that befriending Wesker was especially hard, just that she wasn't the type to immediately be dissuaded by looks or a prickly demeanor. "I'll drink to that though!"

She clinked her up glass against his and drank, making a satisfied sound afterward.

[That gesture, reaching for a weapon that isn't there, brings out the smirk, though it's one of easy amusement rather than a dangerous quirk. As they're on neutral ground, he's keeping a tight rein on himself.]

Ultimately, I was the one holding the aces and suits, or at least some of them. [He perches himself on the stool, though he keeps one foot on the floor.] Though you did well eliminating that idiotic midget. Some people's ambition is too easy to utilize and too quickly becomes their downfall.

[He might not simply be speaking of Ramon Salazar, given an odd thoughtful note that slips into his tone.]

Straightforward in your question, though I regret that the answer isn't as easily presented [Turning his face toward one framed image on the wall, a male humanoid with a squid-like head, accompanied by a recognizable human female, he falls silent for a moment before he continues.] Some of the Pthumerians, or at least their actions and influences, aren't always to be trusted, and they are beings far more powerful than I, in any form that I've foreseen. I might have manipulated some naturally-occurring pathogens, but no version of me ever gained power over the forces of nature, or the fabric of reality itself.

[He turns to look directly at Leon, and at this close range, Wesker's weird, feline eyes might be visible through the tinting on his lenses, the pupils more oval-shaped than slit-like here.]

Has anyone told you about Julia Sodder?

"Rest assured, I won't be sinking my teeth into any unwilling people's necks any time soon. I'd rather take the scientific route, for one thing. For another, the neck is a bad place to bite into. The arm is more ideal," Wesker replies, matter of factly, as if he's had discussions like this before. "I don't think I recall a vampire in Deerington, but then again, I didn't get out as much as I should have.

A rare, true smile crosses his face, for the second time today. "You do have that ability, something rare, in my experience, though it's probably more likely that people are nervous around me."

The innkeep arrives with a platter bearing their meals. "Ye need anything else? My gurl and I are in ear shot."

"It is? I would never have thought that the arm was an ideal place. Is it because there's more access there somehow?"

Luz was not as keyed into vampire lore as some of her peers might be, other than the vampire that had attacked her, and they hadn't gotten along anyway.

"Trust me, she was there. Claudia was her name. She came and went too, even during the time I'd been kidnapped, but I didn't see her after that so I'm assuming she woke up back in her world."

Luz scoffed. "I like the Sleepers. We all have our own stories and wants and likes, and they're all just thrown together and we try to live as best as we can with whatever this world throws at us. I just happen to be the kind of person who likes to know as much about us as I can."

Ooh, more hospitality! "I'd just like a hot chocolate, please."

deerington/deercountry Inbox - UN:A_Wesker013

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voice; un: LSKennedy

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Action; Backdated to Christmas

Re: Action; Backdated to Christmas

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((Hrrgh, I thought I'd replied to this one >>.<<))

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