Albert Wesker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
manufactured) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
recolle2018-07-09 12:11 am
manufactured) wrote in recolle2018-07-09 12:11 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN] I'm wide awake the more I sleep
WHO: Albert Wesker, whomever decides to join him (presumably you!)
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout July
WHAT: One big "family reunion", spanning several dreamscapes and a meeting in Bosuma.
WARNINGS: Violence (primarily strangulation), blackmail, chemically-induced brainwashing, 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 if there's anything more severe than what's been listed here it will be warned for in comment subjects and this heading will be adjusted accordingly as we go.
[DREAMSCAPE - BARRY BURTON]
( cw: blackmail/coercion )
[The mansion you find yourself in is large.
Honestly, for those of you who aren't strangers to Wesker's dreams, this place may seem familiar; there's very little visible difference in design or atmosphere from the Spencer estate. It used to be grand once, you can tell that much easily; you first become aware of the foyer, the high-ceilinged scale of it intimidating and speaking of former opulence that's been left to go to seed over the past few years, all cracked walls and peeling wallpaper and odd, dark stains on the floor that one certainly hopes aren't blood. There's a chandelier hanging over your head, huge and golden and ornate; once in a while it shakes gently with the settling of the building, the crystals dangling from it clinking softly together, and the whole thing just bears with it the aura that you should probably move before it comes down.
There's no definite indication that it will, of course, but do you really want to chance it?
The stairs are in just as much disrepair as the rest of the place, cracked and broken in their grand sweep up to the upper level of the building; the wainscoting on the walls is cracked and covered in what looks like water damage, and from the look of it the brass-sconced lights aren't working very well, all of them yellowed and flickering with age.
There's a hallway to your right that seems clear but dark, and another to your left that seems better-lit but your path is impeded by a set of heavy, wooden crates standing about waist-high.
Will you explore?]
[DREAMSCAPE - JILL VALENTINE]
( cw: chemically-induced brainwashing )
[The room is empty.
It's large and expensive-looking, all marble floors and tall columns stretching up toward the ceiling, but it's alarmingly, oppressively empty in a way that sets one's teeth on edge - like there should be something here, you can almost feel it, but there's quite simply and inexplicably nothing. The initial gradeur of the room seems to fall away the longer you look; the floor is pockmarked with bullet holes, one of the walls to your left is broken open in places, revealing a dark hallway beyond it, and the entire area is bathed in dim light streaming in from the double doors on the second floor, visible behind a thick railing up a set of stairs. The stairs, too, bear battle scars from bullets and strange, long gauges alike, but they're sturdy and pose no threat of collapse.
If you listen long enough, however, you'll find that it's likely you're not alone.
It's difficult to tell where the sound is coming from, distorted though it is by the hollowness of the room; it may take a moment to place, but it's the soft sounds of someone in pain - someone breathing heavily, the exhales accompanied by a quiet, involuntary sound that's both determined and deeply pained.
Something obviously happened here. It's just difficult to say precisely what, at this exact moment. Or who's left.]
[DREAMSCAPE - CHRIS REDFIELD]
( cw: violence )
[The place you're in is dingy, lit with the occasional fluorescent strip above that flickers and blinks dangerously from time to time but never properly goes out. It's straightforward, this place - just one long, narrow corridor stretching on in front of you, and leading back into the distance if you turn around; the walls are all mottled grey and made of metal, and the floor is covered in hollow grating that trembles and clanks as you walk.
It doesn't offer you anywhere to go, should there be trouble from either in front of or behind you.
Somewhere down the corridor in front of you, echoing softly off the metal and the dead, tight space, you think you can hear something - it sounds like a woman singing. A soft, high melody, unaccompanied and untrained but not unpleasant to listen to, even if it's at enough of a distance that you can't make out any words.
Underneath that, however, there's another sound - quieter, but perhaps more ominous in nature - a mechanical whirring, the light clink of something moving toward you.
That latter sound is coming from behind and above you.]
[BOSUMA - WILLIAM BIRKIN]
( cw: none )
[The last time Wesker had been in these woods, it hadn't gone well.
He's never been the sort to be afraid, and while that incident had shaken him he isn't one to remain complacent in his uncertainty; he's out here today with the handgun and the rifle and a fully-charged phone this time, and if something happens he's got something he texted himself with pulled up already - a crash course in who he is and what he was doing here, lest that get stripped away from him again.
The guns are for the monsters he may run into here; depending on how things go, the guns might also be for the witch. He doesn't like that idea, but it's the one he keeps coming back to; he'll keep it in his head where it belongs for now. But eventually there's movement in those woods, and the movement looks like a person and he's got Samurai Edge out and he's pointing it directly toward the person's face when he quite suddenly realizes who he's looking at.
To his credit, Birkin doesn't flinch.
The man looks exactly as Wesker remembers him; it isn't enough to get Wesker to put the gun down. Seeing Birkin is...alarming, it's a sign that is either very good or very bad, and Wesker can't seem to decide which this is; his grip on the gun is tight, and it remains that way until Birkin addresses him.
He doesn't speak when it's a very bad sign.
The words are easy, shifting around in the way that Birkin's voice always does - he's always been the talkative sort, and he's never as cold with Wesker as he is with the others. "You're acting like you don't know me," he says, and he shrugs a little, and he leans back a little as he says it. "You do know me, don't you? It hasn't been that long."
"Put the gun down," he says, and Wesker's already lowering it before he can finish the sentence; "Come on," he says, "just for a few minutes. We've got a lot to catch up on," and when Wesker pausess he looks like he's seriously considering.
This whole thing is surreal, it's... He breathes deeply.
"You've always liked this, right? Just like we used to."
He takes a little longer to exhale than he'd like, his breath leaving him in a rush; he isn't saying yes, but he isn't saying no, either.]
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout July
WHAT: One big "family reunion", spanning several dreamscapes and a meeting in Bosuma.
WARNINGS: Violence (primarily strangulation), blackmail, chemically-induced brainwashing, 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 if there's anything more severe than what's been listed here it will be warned for in comment subjects and this heading will be adjusted accordingly as we go.
[DREAMSCAPE - BARRY BURTON]
( cw: blackmail/coercion )
[The mansion you find yourself in is large.
Honestly, for those of you who aren't strangers to Wesker's dreams, this place may seem familiar; there's very little visible difference in design or atmosphere from the Spencer estate. It used to be grand once, you can tell that much easily; you first become aware of the foyer, the high-ceilinged scale of it intimidating and speaking of former opulence that's been left to go to seed over the past few years, all cracked walls and peeling wallpaper and odd, dark stains on the floor that one certainly hopes aren't blood. There's a chandelier hanging over your head, huge and golden and ornate; once in a while it shakes gently with the settling of the building, the crystals dangling from it clinking softly together, and the whole thing just bears with it the aura that you should probably move before it comes down.
There's no definite indication that it will, of course, but do you really want to chance it?
The stairs are in just as much disrepair as the rest of the place, cracked and broken in their grand sweep up to the upper level of the building; the wainscoting on the walls is cracked and covered in what looks like water damage, and from the look of it the brass-sconced lights aren't working very well, all of them yellowed and flickering with age.
There's a hallway to your right that seems clear but dark, and another to your left that seems better-lit but your path is impeded by a set of heavy, wooden crates standing about waist-high.
Will you explore?]
[DREAMSCAPE - JILL VALENTINE]
( cw: chemically-induced brainwashing )
[The room is empty.
It's large and expensive-looking, all marble floors and tall columns stretching up toward the ceiling, but it's alarmingly, oppressively empty in a way that sets one's teeth on edge - like there should be something here, you can almost feel it, but there's quite simply and inexplicably nothing. The initial gradeur of the room seems to fall away the longer you look; the floor is pockmarked with bullet holes, one of the walls to your left is broken open in places, revealing a dark hallway beyond it, and the entire area is bathed in dim light streaming in from the double doors on the second floor, visible behind a thick railing up a set of stairs. The stairs, too, bear battle scars from bullets and strange, long gauges alike, but they're sturdy and pose no threat of collapse.
If you listen long enough, however, you'll find that it's likely you're not alone.
It's difficult to tell where the sound is coming from, distorted though it is by the hollowness of the room; it may take a moment to place, but it's the soft sounds of someone in pain - someone breathing heavily, the exhales accompanied by a quiet, involuntary sound that's both determined and deeply pained.
Something obviously happened here. It's just difficult to say precisely what, at this exact moment. Or who's left.]
[DREAMSCAPE - CHRIS REDFIELD]
( cw: violence )
[The place you're in is dingy, lit with the occasional fluorescent strip above that flickers and blinks dangerously from time to time but never properly goes out. It's straightforward, this place - just one long, narrow corridor stretching on in front of you, and leading back into the distance if you turn around; the walls are all mottled grey and made of metal, and the floor is covered in hollow grating that trembles and clanks as you walk.
It doesn't offer you anywhere to go, should there be trouble from either in front of or behind you.
Somewhere down the corridor in front of you, echoing softly off the metal and the dead, tight space, you think you can hear something - it sounds like a woman singing. A soft, high melody, unaccompanied and untrained but not unpleasant to listen to, even if it's at enough of a distance that you can't make out any words.
Underneath that, however, there's another sound - quieter, but perhaps more ominous in nature - a mechanical whirring, the light clink of something moving toward you.
That latter sound is coming from behind and above you.]
[BOSUMA - WILLIAM BIRKIN]
( cw: none )
[The last time Wesker had been in these woods, it hadn't gone well.
He's never been the sort to be afraid, and while that incident had shaken him he isn't one to remain complacent in his uncertainty; he's out here today with the handgun and the rifle and a fully-charged phone this time, and if something happens he's got something he texted himself with pulled up already - a crash course in who he is and what he was doing here, lest that get stripped away from him again.
The guns are for the monsters he may run into here; depending on how things go, the guns might also be for the witch. He doesn't like that idea, but it's the one he keeps coming back to; he'll keep it in his head where it belongs for now. But eventually there's movement in those woods, and the movement looks like a person and he's got Samurai Edge out and he's pointing it directly toward the person's face when he quite suddenly realizes who he's looking at.
To his credit, Birkin doesn't flinch.
The man looks exactly as Wesker remembers him; it isn't enough to get Wesker to put the gun down. Seeing Birkin is...alarming, it's a sign that is either very good or very bad, and Wesker can't seem to decide which this is; his grip on the gun is tight, and it remains that way until Birkin addresses him.
He doesn't speak when it's a very bad sign.
The words are easy, shifting around in the way that Birkin's voice always does - he's always been the talkative sort, and he's never as cold with Wesker as he is with the others. "You're acting like you don't know me," he says, and he shrugs a little, and he leans back a little as he says it. "You do know me, don't you? It hasn't been that long."
"Put the gun down," he says, and Wesker's already lowering it before he can finish the sentence; "Come on," he says, "just for a few minutes. We've got a lot to catch up on," and when Wesker pausess he looks like he's seriously considering.
This whole thing is surreal, it's... He breathes deeply.
"You've always liked this, right? Just like we used to."
He takes a little longer to exhale than he'd like, his breath leaving him in a rush; he isn't saying yes, but he isn't saying no, either.]
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I sincerely hope so. I don't know what this is or why it's happening, but I'll be right here. Please do try to be careful.
no subject
[He sounds confident in that much.]
no subject
[It takes all the self-restraint he has not to reach out and touch Wesker.]
I do apologize for getting so riled up immediately, I'll do my best not to let it happen again. This is unnerving me a bit, but I really will play nice.
no subject
[...He has to put a lot of effort into not glancing back at Birkin before he continues.]
He tends to be rude; he legitimately doesn't mean anything by it, it's just how he is with people.
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[He's not going to like it, but he can understand that this is important to Wesker.]
no subject
[He'll pause for a moment before turning back to Birkin, approaching him again and trying to keep any apprehension about this off his features; he feels...stramge about this, for some reason he can't place. Not quite nervous, but close. Wary, perhaps.]
Shall we...? Jaeger will be coming with us, but I'm certain that won't be a problem - after all, I'm one of the "outsiders" now as well, aren't I?
[Birkin looks over at Jaeger, but he does seem to defer easily to what Wesker wants; he seems a bit hesitant, but not like he's going to argue.
"You know why it's different with you. But fine, fine... You did leave, didn't you?"
Come on, Jaeger, let's go.]
no subject
no subject
Questions about whether the injection went well, about whether Wesker had actually survived the incident he's caused; expressing the general sentiment that he was positive that Wesker had died - because that's what all the reports had said, that that was all anyone knew about what had happened, but Birkin had blown up the training center like he'd promised and-
Wesker doesn't touch him, though he seems tempted; he does stop him, however, because he doesn't like this discussion and it might be hard for others to tell but it's stressing Birkin out and let's just...take a moment, all right, just let him reassure the guy that he's fine and dear god. Jaeger, this is so fucking awkward he is so sorry.]
no subject
no subject
That said, though, they don't seem to be going in any particular direction, nor do they seem to have a destination in mind the longer this goes on; Birkin doesn't seem inclined to hurt either of them - he's just kind of being anxiety incarnate over there, as he does - but he's definitely going somewhere at a reasonable pace, hell if anyone can tell where.]
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no subject
(Jaeger, for what it's worth, Wesker doesn't know why he's like this either.)
Eventually, though, there will come a pause, and Wesker will take a moment to glance back and check in, are you okay...]
no subject
Anyway, Jaeger's expression is sort of exasperated and maybe a little worried, but he's not really trying to get Wesker to stop either. Wesker's probably getting something out of this, if he really wanted to stop he would, so Jaeger's fine just following along for now.]
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...Well, it isn't long before Birkin is trying to get his attention again; give him a bit longer, Jaeger, Birkin is a fucking child who needs to be the center of the universe at all times...]
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It's something that should have an obvious answer - what happened to cause the mutation on the train - and when Birkin avoids the question the first time it sets off something sudden and unpleasant in his head. Birkin is a blunt, generally cavalier person, at least with Wesker, and he's also the sort to get angry when he's slighted; Wesker would think being forced into resorting to a mutation and killed would make him upset as opposed to evasive.
So he shifts tracks, asks what sort of virus caused it, and the result is a non-answer. When Wesker tries to lead him and asks if it was the G-virus, Birkin agrees, and that's when Wesker pulls his gun on him.]
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What was it he said?
[Jaeger's curious, but not alarmed. This is definitely fine as far as he's concerned.]
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He wouldn't act like this if he knew the mutation was caused by the G-virus. The problem, I imagine, is that I don't know whether it was caused by that particular strain or not.
[Birkin is...very deliberately stepping back from the person with the gun, for what it's worth, hands raised awkwardly to about shoulder-level like he's at least making an attempt to surrender; when he laughs it's more like nervous tittering, and when he speaks it's somewhere between the anxiousness of someone who really doesn't want to die and the resignation of someone who knows he's probably about to.
"You did... Well, you did warn me, I guess..."]
no subject
[Jaeger tips his head a bit at that. It's more or less what he was expecting, honestly.]
So now what? Are you going to shoot him?
[On the one hand he doesn't seem to be here to put up a fight. On the other, there's no telling what he'll try to do if he's allowed to live.]
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It's a sudden, cold action; he doesn't agonize over it, and he can't bring himself to be upset over opening fire on someone that wasn't fighting back. It isn't like it matters much; it wasn't Birkin, anyway.
He can't tell if he connects.
He doesn't really register what happens, to be honest; Birkin was there, and then suddenly he wasn't, and Wesker doesn't think he managed to shoot him but if he's honest he isn't really sure. He just knows that Birkin isn't there and there isn't any blood, and either way it's probably for the best.
...He acknowledges, after the fact, that that was likely mildly alarming, but so it goes.]
no subject
...Are you okay?
[He doesn't think Wesker's going to be a mess or anything, but it's important to double check. He did just try to shoot someone who was very important to him in his past life, after all.]
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[He's feeling entirely too calm about it, if anything.]
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[Birkin really does seem to have vanished, so Jaeger will approach after a moment, resting a hand on Wesker's arm briefly.]
I'm sorry he wasn't real and couldn't answer your questions.
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...It's fine, I suppose. I don't know why I expected otherwise.
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Well, it certainly was strange to see him and he didn't even look like a spirit or apparition or anything!
[He'll pull back quickly enough, don't worry.]
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