subject_013 | deerington/deercountry Inbox

"If I had to choose a side? Hmm... Probably the Exiles, but I'd avoid that Frenchman." He rolls his eyes, wincing just a fraction. For that matter, he'd been something like the Frenchman, minus the sexual obnoxiousness, a trader in information, only in his case he had been brought low. "There has to be a third option: release those who seek release, retain those for whom the Real would be too much to bear."

He bows his head to her, tipping his hand. "My pleasure, my dear."

The fish folk band converse among themselves, clearly settling on what piece to play. Someone murmurs a suggestion, and the others make agreeable noises. They strike up a jaunty, dancelike melody, starting first on guitar and mandolin, the drummer and the accordion player gradually joining in.

Wesker tilts his head, listening. "....Parson's Farewell. That's a very old piece in my world of origin." He turns to her. "Shall we bid farewell to the shore and move inland?

"Ugh! Yes, definitely avoiding him, woof! What a creep."

Look, she understood what she was and was not supposed to see, and a person like that? That was clearly someone Luz knew she wanted to stay away from. It was like a grosser version of Warden Wrath and his obsession with Eda.

Luz listened with vested interest, then turned to Wesker and gave him a nod.

"Sure! I think my legs have been feeling pretty wobbly anyway. I could use a more stable ground."

"I can carry you on my shoulders if you welcome that," he offers, kneeling to her level. He hasn't done this since Birkin's daughter was a wee tyke, but some part of who he was then has remained intact, deep within his psyche, reawakened by his journeys and the brighter souls who crossed his paths.

Hmm. Should she allow that? She WAS an adult, she really should just be walking around herself. Then again, she was also pretty tired and hadn't had that kind of assistance since the Doctor. Who was she to say no?

"If you don't mind the weight," Luz said modestly, which was ridiculous. Luz was the weight of a sponge.

He chuckles, even affectionately. "Dearheart, I have the strength of five men in my shoulders. Carrying you would be like carrying a sparrow, and a cherished one at that," he says. And he'll kneel beside her, lowering his head to her as he does so.

"Whoa, five? Must be all those heavy trench coats you have! Wait, a sparrow! I'm at least a crow, thank you!"

She could literally turn into one anyway, but she leapt onto his shoulders nonetheless.

"I'm doing this. Begrudgedly."

He chuckles, deep in his throat, but the usual sinister note has absented itself. "It's a little more involved, but the heavy leather helps. Methinks the young magic-user doth protest too much," he muses. "But if you prefer a crow, then a crow it is." He tucks the paper cone of chestnuts he'd been nursing into the open guitar case laying open before the fish folk band (fish-folk band? fish folk-band??), then rises with Luz on his shoulders, his Omen riding inside the neck of his shirt. The drum-playing fishperson, without missing a beat, nods to them both.

Wesker strides off, bearing Luz as he heads up the Boardwalk, heading toward the Lamp. "The first day of the rest of our lives..." he muses, almost thinking out loud.

Edited 2021-11-07 05:24 (UTC)

"Looks like you have some stories to tell me then," Luz said without missing a beat. Look, there was a time to play housekeeper and frantic young teen going on full teenager, and a time to accept piggie back. Luz knew enough when to accept she was still a kid in people's eyes, and she was fine with that, mostly. Wesker at least knew not to try and shield her from things she could weather on her own.

"I DO prefer crow. A group of them is called a murder, you don't get more hardcore than that."

The most mature and obvious reason, of course.

"If its a day like this, I'll take it," Luz piped up. "There are worse days than this one coming up, I bet."

"Stories involving everything from mad science, to zombies, to corporate espionage, to a science-based cult lead by a madman who wished to become a god," he says, with a lilt suggesting at so much more besides.

He chuckles, pleased. "Corvids are generally hardcore, but crows and ravens are their royalty," he muses.

He may grow quiet, edging onto the cold brooding he falls into that chills to the point of burning. However, he has a package of pleasant on his shoulders and he pulls himself back. "If this world is anything like its predecessor, no doubt, we shall have more experiences to add to our stock of dark stories.."

The glow of the Lamp appears out of the mist up ahead. He strides up to it, pausing before it. "Shall we pass through?"

"Man, this place sounds like another dystopia. Why do so many worlds have that going on?"

It must have been some weird luck she was born in some world where nothing as interesting happened until she actually left it. To think though, that some worlds were on par with this one on how bad things could get.

Luz nodded. "Darn right! And I've been pretty into birds, or was anyway."

Wolves had recently come into her life, and they were kind of their own thing.

"I think you're right about that. But at the very least, there's no Julia or Mother Superior. At least we don't have to feel like there's a target painted on our backs. we can at least have moments to breathe easy!"

Whenever they came and they had the foresight to see them.

Luz looked at the lamp and nodded. "Let's go!"

"In my world, it depended on your perspective: the average person barely suspected what went on in the shadows. The worst of the outbreaks was explained away as mass hysteria, but people had started to see the loose ends in the narrative. It wouldn't surprise me if the powers in this place had an affinity for summoning those of us who hail from such dark worlds. We likely have more resilience," he notes.

"We'll see what manner of treatment our new hosts give to us. At least whomever they are, they allow for warm welcomes," he notes. He's accepted this world as his life, but dwelling in the predecessor to this world, to say nothing of the preparedness his world of origin gave him.

"Further up and further in," he murmurs and steps into the glow of the Lamp...

...The pull of the lamp draws them through into the warm lights of the windows in what looks like a fantasy inn. "Well. Dare we expect a warm fireside with travelers meeting for the first time, a darkling stranger watching from the corner?" he muses.

"That sounds like how my world might operate, if things like that were a thing. For all I know, that might even be the case. There isn't a lot that our own government tells us in the long run, and a lot of what we could know is sacrificed for comfort a lot of the time. I think you're right about people having more resilience from darker worlds though. I've always thought that was why a lot of us are here."

Luz nodded. She could definitely agree with that. They still had to be wary about a lot of things.

And now they were pulled into some kind of inn, where it looked like it could be something right out of a horror story.

"Only if they sing a rousing ale song and can carry a tune," Luz replied, giving him a totally-approving-of-this-place look.

He'll kneel, and if she allows, he'll help her down from his shoulders.

"Like something straight from Lord of the Rings," he muses, leading the way, his hand straying close to the dagger at his belt. "Though if there's any ale involved, I'm the one drinking it," he adds, with a mischievously paternal lilt.

Luz will totally allow him to help her, as she can sometimes be all limbs when it comes to that kind of thing.

"Ugh, gladly. I do not get why any kid wants to drink something that's so bitter. I'll stick with Boba tea and soda, thanks. The only thing I'd envy those dwarves for are the songs: they have GREAT songs."

He'll lead the way up the path to the door, hitching his Robe a little higher and winding one corner around the back of his head as a hood.

"As a former teenager myself, it's the lure of the forbidden, though when I was fourteen, I was starting medical school and already knew much about the effects of alcohol on the human body," he muses. Reaching the door, he pulls it open and steps aside to let her enter first.

Luz chuckled. "Yes, well, maybe I might have been curious if I hadn't seen kids my age and a little older drunk in a strange hotel. They might not even remember me from then, but I remember. Seems like a lot of fuss for something that makes you act silly but not remember it."

Luz watched what he did and also put her hood up, though considering the cat ears, it looked somewhat less dramatic.

"Ahhh, yes, what I had dubbed 'the idiot parade' at the Grady Hotel. They seemed to have a thing for clomping like drunken moose in the hallway outside the door to my room," he says, dryly. "In moderation, it's a pleasure, but without that moderation, it's a painful thing to all involved."

They step into a warmly lit taproom, a fire on the hearth with a hunting dog laying on the fur rug before it, a few patrons already gathered, the innkeeper behind the bar looking up from wiping out a pewter tankard. "New Sleepers, eh?" the innkeeper notes. "What'll ye have?"

Luz laughed. "They were fun to be around though. I think when you're younger, you like to dabble and be silly about it. That's why I don't get why people want to do it when they get older. It just seems like there'd be more cons than pros."

Ooh, comfy. Luz immediately went over to respectfully pet the dog, then looked up.

"You don't have apple cider, do you?"

"Some people take a slower route to maturing," he says, with a lilt that he might be one of them, albeit by a darker path, which has found its way into the twilight.

The dog lifts its head, sniffing at Luz and thumping its tail, friendly. The innkeeper keeps one eye on Wesker as he speaks to Luz. "Got some fresh, from apples just in season."

Wesker takes down his hood. "Might I request a bottle of red wine if there's any at hand?"

The innkeep discreetly makes a gesture, almost like something magical. "Got some of last year's vintage left, if that would please yer palate."

"Or maybe Deerington was too much for people sober?"

That sounded like something they might say, and while Luz had never been drunk, NOT being drunk and dealing with Deerington had been pretty rough to begin with.

Luz is still petting the dog, and finally looked up, grinning. "Awesome."

She'll be up in just a minute. She just needs this, despite having an omen who is an actual wolf.

"Fair point. Even I found myself needing a glass of wine at the end of the day in that place, at least until my supply ran out."

"Yer new in Trench, aren't ye?""Been seein' new Sleepers pass through here.

"Got some fresh mushroom steaks, if yer hungry."

"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!"

"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.

deerington/deercountry Inbox - UN:A_Wesker013

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