[OPEN] There is a dream inside a dream

[manufactured]

WHO: Albert Wesker, whomever chooses to join him (presumably you!)
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout October
WHAT: Nightmares and fog, featuring reunions with "friends."
WARNINGS: Violence, murder, child abuse, a basement full of corpses, medical experimentation, tentacles just goddamn everywhere, body horror, a veritable ball of leeches, other delightful things one would expect from the Resident Evil villain's memories? There is a blanket warning for "this is gonna suck" over this whole thing, though the child abuse warning is only relevant for those who pursue the Spencer prompt; the rest are clear of that sort of thing.


[NIGHTMARE – OSWELL E. SPENCER]
( cw: violence, murder, child abuse, a basement full of corpses )

[The mansion you find yourself in is large.

It seems like it used to be opulent once. You're standing in a foyer that held some sense of grandeur to it but now seems to have fallen into disrepair, and the long arching staircase greeting you dead-center is crumbling in several places. The massive chandelier which once hung above the center of the room seems to have crashed down at some point long ago, lying broken on the glossy marble floor, all shattered crystal and twisted metal and lengths of chain; it seems a bit of a visual nonsequitur – nothing overly important outside of the fact that there was a chandelier hanging in this room, and something sent it crashing down – but as you walk past it, you can see slight movememt beneath it out of the corner of your eye, something tense and slow and pained, almost as though there's something pinned down underneath it.

You probably don't want to know what's pinned down underneath it.

Watch your step as you're moving upstairs, though it does seem you want to move upstairs; you don't know why, seeing as everything is in disrepair and that includes the staircase itself and the exposed hallways leading in either direction off of it, but sometimes dreams are just like that. Aren't they? You move and you move and there's no real reason behind any of it – it's all a little nonsensical, a little surreal, and it seems this one isn't going to be any different.

A door down one of those hallways is lying slightly ajar; pressing on it will get it to swing open easily. However, if you reach out to do so, a voice can be heard from inside; it seems to belong to a man, though it's high-pitched and cracked and withered with age, but either way the words that are spoken seem to be aimed, somehow, at you.]

...You came back...

[Proceed?]



[NIGHTMARE – WILLIAM BIRKIN]
( cw: medical experimentation )

[It feels almost like it's the end of the world.

The place you're in is dark, all steel and concrete, with the oppressive air of something that's far underground; maybe a bunker, maybe a facility of some sort, definitely somewhere that you aren't supposed to be. The hallway you're in is long, dimly-lit with fluorescent lights that seem to flicker and dance in and out of existence despite how strong the walls in this place seem to be.

It's silent. And then, suddenly it's not.

The sound starts up quiet but soon builds immensely, a sharp wail, a moan, undercut with a chilling rasp that sounds almost like a death rattle. A series of loud banging noises that may or may not be restraints against a metal table. All of it emanates from somewhere just around a bend in the hallway, behind a door that's just out of sight from where you're standing but comes quickly into view if you move toward it.

Before you can open it, the sound starts up again, the screech, the keening noise, something that sounds undeniably like death; there are voices, too, beneath it, a pair of people speaking without paying any mind to the cacophony that surely must be happening near them.

If you listen long enough before opening the door, it sounds almost like whomever is making those ungodly sounds is screaming for their mother.]



[NIGHTMARE – EXCELLA GIONNE]
( cw: violence, some degree of body horror, tentacles just goddamn everywhere )

[The stars above are beautiful, constellations in full view; it's almost enough to make you disregard how very cold it is tonight. There's the soft sway of a ship's movement beneath your feet as it cuts through choppy seas, the metallic sound of a tanker's deck reverberating underneath your every step; despite the amount of work it must require to keep a massive ship like this running smoothly at sea, there don't seem to be any actual people on board – it seems that you're alone, and you're empty-handed, and the only indication of whom this ship might belong to is a logo that's present here and there on the metal walls you pass that ultimately doesn't seem to mean anything.

As you make your way to the bow of the ship, a voice sounds out – distorted, unrecognizable for all the static obscuring it as the ship's public-address system relays it through the night air; the words are difficult to make out, but you can surely hear a few.

"But it's too late for you...you won't live to see – "
"Sorry, Excella, but it seems – "
"...One last task for you."
"Farewell, old friend."

In the distance, a woman screams. And something massive seems to connect, then, hard enough to rock the ship, to dip it down hard from the center.

Perhaps you move forward to the bow of the ship to find the source of the screaming – after all, it sounds as though she's really suffering, wherever she is. Or perhaps you choose to stay put to see what happens; there's no sense in rushing into a dangerous situation. Or perhaps you do the reasonable-person thing and try to run from it all, because whatever just happened on deck is large enough to fuck with the boat and that probably isn't anything you want a part of.

Either way, it doesn't really matter; you're going to be intercepted by Wesker, grabbing your arm or...wherever's immediately available like an unreasonable person and pulling you in a different direction entirely, up a metal flight of stairs to a higher deck.]

We can't stay here.

[His words are sharp, rushed despite the fact that he doesn't seem to be doing much with his face; things are...not going well, clearly.]



[FOG – SERGEI VLADIMIR]
( cw: violence, body horror everywhere, a veritable ball of leeches )

[It probably isn't the wisest decision, being out late at night in the fog like this; just the same, at this point...well, this seems like a far better option than sleeping, given the dreams that have been plaguing Wesker's sleep.

This, incidentally, was a highly incorrect assumption.

If you're out tonight in any of the business districts – anyplace that the buildings tower high above, anyplace that has high walls and streets winding below them, you may find yourself grabbed and pulled over toward someone, your back pressed hard against one of those high walls, and when Wesker speaks from where he's got ahold of you his words seem calm enough but there's an undeniable sense of pressure behind them when he speaks.]

If you're armed, draw your weapon. And keep your gaze high. It's not safe here.

[...So that's something that's happening tonight.]



[ANYTHING ELSE?]

[Feel free to hit either my plotting comment or come find me at InstantEternity if you want to plot something out with me; I'm here for anything and everything, and if there's something specific that you want for the sake of either getting memory regains for you or just...going on an adventure, I'm willing to custom-tailor nightmares and experiences for you! Resident Evil runs a large and fairly messed-up gamut, so pretty much anything is fair game.]

Comments

birkin nightmare

[thesettingsun]

[Something about fluorescent lights and concrete walls triggers the thought of 'someplace I'm not meant to be' for Shuji even before the screaming starts. Once the wailing hits his ears, he has to stand still for a moment just to calm his nerves, or try to.

He's definitely not meant to be here. Possibly nobody is meant to be here. He would leave, except he doesn't know how he came in.

So, like someone with a death wish, he follows the sound. To the door that separates him from whatever is making that infernal noise, and also from two people whose conversation he can't quite make out.

And then he knocks politely.

It doesn't seem like a good idea to try to be sneaky and fail, or to suddenly burst in on whoever's in there. Politeness might give him a second longer of life.]

[manufactured]

[There is a pause, from inside that room.

It's not present in the screaming - no, the screaming continues, and it continues to be exactly as hellish and undeterred as it was before - but rather in the way that the conversation stops between those other people in the room; after a brief moment even the wailing seems to quiet a bit, settling into weird, unearthly whimpering noises, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

When the door opens, it's a bit abrupt, annoyed, but at least there doesn't seem to be any impending violence about to hit Shuji in the face or anything; there's just a man in a labcoat, with sandy blond hair cut short with fringe parted somewhat awkwardly down the center, and honestly, he looks kind of like the most average man alive. Shame about the screaming behind him.

Either way, he looks at Shuji like he isn't sure what to do with his presence here; clearly, he wasn't expecting visitors, and he's quick to glance back into the room behind him like he's checking - ]

...Well? Let him in, I suppose.

[It's Wesker's voice from inside the room, definitely; Birkin looks like he's not altogether sure what to do with this notion, but he will just kind of...turn and go back to whatever it was he's doing over there, and leave Shuji to decide whether he actually comes in or not.

The room he's left looking at is large, with more concrete walls and a tiled floor, and it's surprisingly strongly-lit - perhaps understandably so, given that there's a metal operating table in the center of it, instrument trays and the like scattered around the room like it's some sort of makeshift operating theatre.

And there's...definitely something on the table, though exactly what it is is hard to make out at a distance. Other than "presumably, the source of all the noise."

Wesker is in here as well, of course - he's standing on the far side of the table, away from the door, and he looks up at Shuji as Birkin returns; he doesn't have the usual dark glasses on, and as such the confusion is...fairly evident in his eyes before he seems to shake his head and brush it off.]

We weren't expecting company; you'll have to forgive us for not being prepared to entertain you.

[Wesker's words are...strange - they're cold and blank but they're out there anyway, detached though they may be.]

[thesettingsun]

[Not being violent is a good start. Shuji steps inside, taking stock of the room, the instrument trays and-

What the actual fuck is that.

Shuji decides to stop taking stock of the room right away in order to not be sick, and focuses on Wesker instead.]

That's fine, I wasn't expecting to be here.

[manufactured]

[That seems to get Wesker's attention, actually; his gaze seems to sharpen a bit, though his tone hasn't changed much.]

Did you just find yourself here, then?

sergei vladimir

[frisyr]

[ Emil is pulled aside and almost yells out audibly before Wesker explains himself ]

--Oh! Uh--

[ He starts, in a hushed voice, and then pulls out a knife and shows Wesker he's got a couple explosives in his pocket if that isn't enough. Sorry, the rifle and the flamethrower are just a bit too obvious to carry around. ]

What's happening?

[manufactured]

[That's fine. Wesker's got a handgun if we need it - he's gotten so much mileage out of Samurai Edge since he received it from Retrospec, it's a little ridiculous, he lobbied for gun control - but god, the explosives have potential to be nice.]

...I don't know. Stay still long enough and you can hear it.

[And sure enough, there's...something, it sounds like, moving around in the fog above; it's an odd, deliberate sort of sound - the sort of thing that one could conceivably imagine resulting from the movements of a particularly large, heavily-weighted spider. One leg at a time in sequence, slamming up against the steel and glass of the building over and over and over again, and thankfully for now it's slow-moving and seems to be at an acceptable distance - but let's be honest with ourselves, anytime a noise like that is happening and it's audible, it's probably entirely too close.]

I've only caught glimpses of it, not nearly enough to discern what it is properly. But I think we can both agree that that is probably not a friendly sound.

[frisyr]

Wh...

No, that's not really friendly.

[ He draws his knife anyway, even though he thinks that neither of their weapons are going to do much against anything if they can't get a good visual. It could just be Dante playing around again, he's not about to stab his friend if he's not sure. ]

Why don't we just get out of here?

Spence nightmare, let's fucking go

[feistytrader]

[Silver immediately decides that he doesn't like this place, even before he notes the chandelier or what's pinned underneath it. Not that he doesn't take that into account, of course. His instinct is almost to reach out a hand to try and help, but if something survived that, does he really want to be touching it with his bare hands? Maybe not. Better to just follow the nagging thought in his head that tells him to find a way out and quickly, with some attention to detail but not much retention of it.

Really, it's the sound of someone old and unfamiliar that makes Silver center himself. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head briefly before venturing into the room to investigate its source.]

Who are you?

[manufactured]

[The door opens into what looks like a large personal library, the walls lined with shelves full of more books than one can possibly hope to read in one lifetime; most of the space is open, however, and the wall farthest from the door is lined with massive windows, ceiling-to-floor, overlooking a massive storm happening on the other side and what appears to be a lot of sheer black nothingness beyond it.

There are a pair of figures in the room; one is likely recognizable as Wesker, though he's got a long leather coat on that he usually doesn't wear - his back is to the door, and though he bristles when Silver comes in he doesn't turn around, he just continues staring steadily at the storm as it rages outside.

The second person here appears to be the source of the voice from earlier - an elderly man wearing a robe, with a scalp vein setup set into the side of his head and an IV in his arm; it seems to be regulated with the large device set into the side of his wheelchair. He's ill, in an obvious, horrible sort of way that one just knows by looking at him; the look in his eyes, however, is bright and shrewd.]

I see you've brought a friend with you, Albert.

[Wesker...doesn't seem to like that, any of that; he just folds his arms tightly where he's standing, and he still doesn't turn around.]

...Yes, it would seem that way.

[feistytrader]

[...An ill old man... That shouldn't be threatening at all, but it doesn't put him at ease, and neither does Wesker. Not that the man is particularly comforting to begin with, but there's something very wrong about this- about all of this- and he can't quite put his finger on it.]

Am I intruding on something?

[Who the fuck calls him Albert?]

let's fight excella

[scythegun]

[Well, this is certainly a weird dream. Jaeger has no reason to be dreaming about a ship, but he doesn't have long to ponder it before suddenly a woman's screaming and he's starting toward that. Whatever's rocked the ship is in that direction as well and even though he doesn't have his weapon, he's determined to see what's going on.

Until Wesker stops him, that is. Jaeger glances up at the other man, then back in the direction he was headed before deciding to follow Wesker's lead on this one.]

I'll follow you, then. I trust you know where you're going?

[If this is anything like what happened before, then he's found himself in Wesker's dream and that's definitely not a good sign.]

[manufactured]

[God, it's good that he managed to stop Jaeger before he pursued the source of that screaming a bit too thoroughly - he seems momentarily relieved at that, really, before he just continues moving toward the stairs.]

...This is the best way I've found to stave off being killed for a while longer, at least.

[This is going to suck, Jaeger.]

[scythegun]

[Oh. Yeah, this is absolutely going to suck, isn't it.]

Killed off by what? What's going on here?

Sergei

[burlyheart]

I don't draw based on any judgement except for my own and of an officer.

[Peter sounds steady and polite even when he thinks this man must be strange at best and threatening at worst. Verbally Wesker bounces off him; he doesn't even listen to the order of where to direct his eyes, since they stay making direct eye contact with the man, but physically Peter doesn't move a finger to shove him off. It's as if he's just as unperturbed by someone grabbing him and holding him to a wall, and Peter almost can sell it as not foolish.]

[manufactured]

[Wesker's own gaze is quick to dart upward, though not without reason; after all, there is the small matter of the sound which can be heard - not immediately, but eventually, the noise of something heavy slamming into one of the walls above. It's almost spiderlike, really, in the way it seems to be moving - one hit right after another right after another right after another, over and over again in a way that's almost cyclical in tenor.

Wesker himself will step back; he's got his own weapon with him, it's visible under his coat, but he knows better than to pull it out just yet, not until he's got a clear shot.]

Then perish, for all I care. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

[burlyheart]

[Wesker suddenly became a lot less interesting, and Peter breaks his stare to look up. When freed, Peter steps away from the wall.]

What - what is that thing?

[It's probably a useless question, because it's very likely that this man doesn't know any more than he does, but Peter is speaking from emotion here. ]

oswell e spencer

[parodeity]

...Not on purpose, I didn't.

[ dave mutters, but he continues on anyway. going back in a dream isn't often a choice, and he doesn't know this one. it isn't bro, and that's good enough not to be as terrified as he could be, even though his left hand flexes and he thinks of drawing his sword out of his sylladex.

he doesn't, but walks calmly towards whatever. ]

[manufactured]

[Well, the door will open easily - but it won't lead to any sort of room you're expecting, most likely.

The stairs to get up here were the sort of thing that may have actually been opulent once, but when the door opens it's into something that's once again a bit of a visual non-sequitur - not in the same way that the chandelier was, but in a different way entirely; the staircase you're looking at is steep and dark and made of concrete, the walls thick stone on either side, the sort of thing that's clammy and damp with age and being shut off from the outside from too long. The source of the voice audible from outside doesn't seem to be present; that isn't to say that there aren't sounds coming from down below - it sounds as though someone may be down there, at least, there are vague noises that imply movement - but whether it's the person you heard before or not has yet to be seen.

Where to from here, Dave?]

[parodeity]

[ he hates shit like this. but he doesn't see anything moving out of the corner of his eyes - not that he ever saw bro - and he doubts pretending nothing is happening will do him any good. he wishes, stupidly, that rose were here - but she isn't, and it's just him, so dave finds the staircase and goes the only way he sees: forward.

he's cautious and cat-quiet about it, but there's nothing for it. ]

spencer!!

[scythegun]

[Well, this place looks like it used to be nice. Jaeger's not really surprised to find himself here given the weird nightmare-sharing that's been going on, but the entire atmosphere is creepy in a way that makes him wish he had his weapon.

It's the voice on the other side of the door that gets him to shudder. He pushes the door open without a response though, waiting to see what's on the other side.]

[manufactured]

[The door opens into what looks like a large library, the walls lined with heavy shelves filled with entirely too many books and ledgers for one person to go through in a lifetime; the wall farthest from the door is lined with windows, ceiling-to-floor, looking out over what looks like a massive expanse of darkness below.

There's a storm outside; it seems to be raging hard, all lightning and wind and rain.

And in front of those windows, toward the center of the room, there are people.

It's not many, just a pair of them; one of them is standing near a wheelchair outfitted with various medical apparatus - an elderly man in a robe, scalp vein setup set into his head and IV trailing from his arm. He's barely remaining upright, wavering as he stands, body ravaged with age and the racking fragility of illness; he has his back to the door, facing the other man in the room.

That other man being Wesker.

He's standing still, though he seems worked up; his body is tense, energy vibrating through him that's undeniably stressed in nature, and he doesn't seem to know what to do with himself.

He looks up when he notices Jaeger in the doorway, however, his attention darting over in that direction rather than focusing on the old man; unlike how he usually responds to Jaeger's presence, however, he doesn't seem to relax any when he sees him.]

...You shouldn't be here.

[scythegun]

[Well, this nightmare probably would have been infinitely less awkward if it belonged to anyone but Wesker, but here we are anyway. Jaeger has a damn good idea of what's going to happen in this one, but he can't really say he minds it any. After what Wesker told him, the old man got what was coming to him. Still, it makes sense that Wesker would have nightmares about it.

Jaeger tips his head a bit at the greeting. His first thought it so say something flippant and dismissive, but that certainly isn't going to help and he can tell that Wesker's still tense from over here.]

Ja, I know. Unfortunately, it seems like I'm stuck here for the time being.

Imma go Excella (maybe merge other stuff in later if you want to not repeat

[matchbreaker]

Where to, isn't this a boat? Albert, what is this?

[ she's actually cross to have her armed grabbed, the woman taking hold of his wrist with her super strength (oh good, that does seem to still be here in the dream) and pluck his grip away. She hisses, but...

The boat rocks again.

Okay, yeah, there's an issue here. ]

[manufactured]

[Elda, now is not the time - ]

Feel free to stay here, if you wish to die. If anything, it will likely end this experience a bit more quickly for you.

However, it's going to be decidedly less than pleasant, and you've never struck me as the sort to simply roll over.

[matchbreaker]

Of course I'm not!

[ Wow, what a response. That said, she grits her teeth a moment and then shakes her head. She'll get her grip released and motion, fine, let's run.

Are we going to end up swimming? ]