Albert Wesker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
manufactured) wrote2017-04-30 12:43 am
manufactured) wrote2017-04-30 12:43 am
INBOX | RECOLLE
NOAH ISAACS
Albert Wesker. Pharmaceutical Research and Development. This surely won't end poorly.
VOICE | TEXT | VIDEO | ACTION
[It occurs to Wesker briefly that this is revealing a lot to him about Yeager, but it's also putting a few things that Cumore would likely prefer undisclosed on full display. He's seen Cumore's posts on the network, and while it's possible that he hadn't remembered this yet, the only thing he's openly mentioned has been dying - and even then that's been in a very vague, flippant way. Cumore is like Jaeger, from what Wesker knows of him, he's a private person; as such, this is probably awkward for both of them.
Internally he flinches a bit at the yelling directed toward the collapsed worker, and it bothers him that Yeager doesn't seem to care; it takes him a moment to remind himself that he wouldn't have cared either in his past life. Even so, he's almost relieved by the muted emotions at the order to fight; it makes things a little less surreal, at least.]
Internally he flinches a bit at the yelling directed toward the collapsed worker, and it bothers him that Yeager doesn't seem to care; it takes him a moment to remind himself that he wouldn't have cared either in his past life. Even so, he's almost relieved by the muted emotions at the order to fight; it makes things a little less surreal, at least.]
[The kids take that as their cue to rush you, but strangely enough only four of them actually seem to be fighting. It doesn't strike you as odd, at least.
You'll quickly figure out what each of the four do in combat: Yuri is a swordsman who takes to the front lines, the Princess is surprisingly bulky for a healer, there's a short kid with a massive weapon, and there's a girl who can use magic. All of this seems pretty normal and it doesn't take long for the momentary interest to wear off. You quickly go from being curious about what they can do to apathetic again, finding the whole thing tedious and maybe even a bit boring. They aren't worth your time.
You'll probably notice a few things about your own fighting style beyond the fact that you just aren't trying very hard. First of all, you can wield that massive scythe that's bigger than you are one-handed, and when you're using that your free hand is always over your chest. You can feel the hum of the blastia through your clothes and gloves and while you certainly aren't exerting yourself right now, this seems to be something you're doing through habit. You'll also notice that while you're certainly not the fastest person in the battle, you're very quick to shift between weapons and you have no problems handling most of the attacks that land. Magic's a bit trickier for you to shrug off, but even that doesn't really hurt.
It's also worth noting that literally no one will shut up and everyone is calling their attacks including you, but no one seems to find this weird or annoying.
Your minions fall easily, but that doesn't bother you either. While your attacks do hit hard when they connect (and you don't have any problems targeting any of them, including the youngest kid) they're a surprisingly robust group. Between their healer and whatever items they're using, they're able to keep themselves healed while taking out your group.
Unsurprisingly given how little effort you're actually putting in, they succeed in defeating you. "You have won."]
You'll quickly figure out what each of the four do in combat: Yuri is a swordsman who takes to the front lines, the Princess is surprisingly bulky for a healer, there's a short kid with a massive weapon, and there's a girl who can use magic. All of this seems pretty normal and it doesn't take long for the momentary interest to wear off. You quickly go from being curious about what they can do to apathetic again, finding the whole thing tedious and maybe even a bit boring. They aren't worth your time.
You'll probably notice a few things about your own fighting style beyond the fact that you just aren't trying very hard. First of all, you can wield that massive scythe that's bigger than you are one-handed, and when you're using that your free hand is always over your chest. You can feel the hum of the blastia through your clothes and gloves and while you certainly aren't exerting yourself right now, this seems to be something you're doing through habit. You'll also notice that while you're certainly not the fastest person in the battle, you're very quick to shift between weapons and you have no problems handling most of the attacks that land. Magic's a bit trickier for you to shrug off, but even that doesn't really hurt.
It's also worth noting that literally no one will shut up and everyone is calling their attacks including you, but no one seems to find this weird or annoying.
Your minions fall easily, but that doesn't bother you either. While your attacks do hit hard when they connect (and you don't have any problems targeting any of them, including the youngest kid) they're a surprisingly robust group. Between their healer and whatever items they're using, they're able to keep themselves healed while taking out your group.
Unsurprisingly given how little effort you're actually putting in, they succeed in defeating you. "You have won."]
[Huh.
While this admittedly just feels kind of like Tuesday, it's something Wesker finds interesting regardless; he's always been partial to fighting, and this is no exception. Granted, there's far more yelling than he's used to; he and Chris tended to yell at each other a lot, granted, but they didn't call attacks like this. So that's...new, and honestly really dumb, but the fight itself is at least something he's interested in.]
While this admittedly just feels kind of like Tuesday, it's something Wesker finds interesting regardless; he's always been partial to fighting, and this is no exception. Granted, there's far more yelling than he's used to; he and Chris tended to yell at each other a lot, granted, but they didn't call attacks like this. So that's...new, and honestly really dumb, but the fight itself is at least something he's interested in.]
[You put some distance between yourself and the meddling kids before speaking. "I must admit, you're very strong."
Before you can say anything else, a knight approaches to speak to Cumore, who is standing somewhere behind you. "Sir Cumore! It's the Flynn Brigade!"
"Well, send him away!" Cumore doesn't sound pleased with this development, but that really doesn't seem like a surprise.
"We tried, but he insists on coming down to perform an inspection."
"That lower quarter lout. He simply has no tact!"
Well, it looks like it's up to you again, or perhaps more accurately... "Gauche, Droite."
From somewhere up above, a voice answers, "Yes, Yeager." The two girls drop down, landing on either side of you. They're teenagers, and look older than most of the kids in the group you were just fighting. There's a sense of familiarity there, a sense of safety, perhaps. It's less that you feel they'll protect you and more that they'll ensure things don't get any worse. Even so, there really aren't any emotions present.
The green-haired girl on your right speaks up, "This is our time to shine!" She's definitely not the one who spoke earlier.
"I think we better be making with the escape, ja?" You tell them instead.
They throw smoke bombs and you take that as your cue to turn and leave. The girls and Cumore are behind you and you're sure they'll get out just fine, but you have time to hear them say, "Please step this way." and "Move! Move! Time to get a move on!"
It seems like Cumore can't just leave it at that, though. "We'll get you next time!"
Everything begins to fade then, and it isn't long before the memory's gone as suddenly as you were forced into living it.]
Before you can say anything else, a knight approaches to speak to Cumore, who is standing somewhere behind you. "Sir Cumore! It's the Flynn Brigade!"
"Well, send him away!" Cumore doesn't sound pleased with this development, but that really doesn't seem like a surprise.
"We tried, but he insists on coming down to perform an inspection."
"That lower quarter lout. He simply has no tact!"
Well, it looks like it's up to you again, or perhaps more accurately... "Gauche, Droite."
From somewhere up above, a voice answers, "Yes, Yeager." The two girls drop down, landing on either side of you. They're teenagers, and look older than most of the kids in the group you were just fighting. There's a sense of familiarity there, a sense of safety, perhaps. It's less that you feel they'll protect you and more that they'll ensure things don't get any worse. Even so, there really aren't any emotions present.
The green-haired girl on your right speaks up, "This is our time to shine!" She's definitely not the one who spoke earlier.
"I think we better be making with the escape, ja?" You tell them instead.
They throw smoke bombs and you take that as your cue to turn and leave. The girls and Cumore are behind you and you're sure they'll get out just fine, but you have time to hear them say, "Please step this way." and "Move! Move! Time to get a move on!"
It seems like Cumore can't just leave it at that, though. "We'll get you next time!"
Everything begins to fade then, and it isn't long before the memory's gone as suddenly as you were forced into living it.]
[That was...
...Well, it sure was, anyway. Wesker has to admit that he isn't certain what to make of most of it - likely because there isn't much desire to make anything of any of it. It lends the entire memory a bizarre quality that he can't quite shake off; it unsettles him a good amount, in a way that he can't really articulate very well. Perhaps it reminds him too much, again, of that time in the mansion, the sort of thing that leaves him feeling mildly repulsive for simply doing things without feeling anything about them. It's...not precisely something he wants to experience again, even if the fighting was interesting; he doesn't particularly envy Jaeger for the memories he's receiving if they're all like that, to put it gently.
However...
His own memories, obviously, aren't really any better.
The first thing that's immediately obvious is the pain - it spreads quickly from your system, though it's particularly gripping at the back of your head, spreading up and over your skull and into your temples, the pressure heavy and pulsing and as the migraine ebbs out for brief periods of time it's replaced immediately by the sensation that your nerves are on fire. Your spine, your extremities, everywhere, it's like there's something sharp and burning digging into your skin, setting off clusters of pain and causing your body to resist movement, but you're going to keep pace as you make your way toward wherever it is you're going - you can hear voices, a pair of people talking, and as that registers so, then, does the heat.
It's unfathomably, unfathomably warm where you are, the heat rippling off the exposed skin of your upper body in waves that are almost visible, and it's likely not long before you see the reason why - there's a lava flow very close to you - no, not a flow, an open roiling lake of it, an entire active caldera lying open in front of you and in areas just below the metal structure you're standing on. A plane? It seems to be, one of those large, expensive jets that the military likes to buy for two billion dollars a pop nowadays.
But that doesn't matter, none of it matters - not the heat or the molten rock or the plane or the pain centered in your head. What matters is the people down below you, and even though your sunglasses are off you can't fucking see - you're aware of their forms, you can tell that they're people, one large and bulky and the other smaller and slighter and less important to you overall but you can't make out their features, and for a brief moment you really, really want to be able to make out their features and the fact that you can't agitates you but in a moment that doesn't matter either, a momentary urge that you're quick to dismiss as pointless - but as it stands the point is that you know Chris is there, and that knowledge sends a sharp, cold burst of anger flooding down your spine, dripping down frigid from the inside of your ribs like cracked ice.
"I should have killed you years ago... Chris." Your breathing is jagged as you speak, labored and heavy and forced out hard; whatever's happened to you before this has taken a toll on your body, as little as you like it you're not in any sort of condition to fight - but what the hell else are you supposed to do? Lie down and die?
Not while Chris is still alive, not while you're still able to breathe in the first place.
"Your mistake. It's over, Wesker!" Chris is quick to yell back, and he and his little friend - the woman, the one that doesn't matter to you - they've both pulled guns on you. You don't have yours, but that's all right.
Perhaps more than all right.
"Over...?" And even though your breathing is labored and your body is still resisting movement, you're able to walk toward them, moving a few steps closer atop that downed plane, ignoring the smoke and the heat from the metal. And because you know this plane better than anyone else in the world - better than Chris, better than his friend, better than anyone else who could have possibly harbored the foolish desire to stop you - you manage to laugh a bit, the sound deep and harsh and there's a flicker of genuine anticipation underneath it. Not amusement properly, but eagerness; the sort of coiled, predatory feeling one would expect from a cat toying with something before breaking its neck. "I'm just getting started."
And because you know this plane better than anyone else in the world, you're confident when you break the hull, punching it so hard the metal ruptures and so does the missile immediately beneath it, and while there's pain in it - not from the break, but from what you've broken into - it's a good sort of burn. The kind of thing that reminds you that you're still alive, even if your body hasn't been properly alive for eleven years.
It takes your right arm almost immediately.
It stings, really, perhaps a bit more than you'd expected, the thick black tentacles wrapping quickly around your wrist and traveling up over your arm, spreading to take your chest, your shoulders; it bites hard into your skin, most of the sting centralized over the place where your heart is located. You can feel a similar process happening at your back, just over your spine, digging into a spot between your shoulderblades; the pain is worth it, however, dragging out a massive amount of pure adrenaline from your system as the virus floods your mind, and after a while you can't feel the distinct line where you end and it begins and there's pleasure in it, undeniable massive amounts of sheer ectasy, and you can feel the power coursing through your body as readily as the agony was when the memory first began.
Some of the tendrils hit you in the face, whiplike, as you draw your arm back, and you can feel the scars burn into your skin immediately, portions of it simply corroding away; when you withdraw your right arm from the hull a large amount of shrapnel comes with it, and you twist it around between the structures enveloping your hand. The control you feel over Uroboros is immediate, there's no question over whether it will allow you to use its power to do whatever you want it to do; Chris and his friend make the mistake of lowering their weapons, as though they're trying to process what it is they're seeing.
You had so much faith that Chris would understand; the action serves as visual confirmation that he never will.
Shame.
His loss.
"Time to die, Chris."]
...Well, it sure was, anyway. Wesker has to admit that he isn't certain what to make of most of it - likely because there isn't much desire to make anything of any of it. It lends the entire memory a bizarre quality that he can't quite shake off; it unsettles him a good amount, in a way that he can't really articulate very well. Perhaps it reminds him too much, again, of that time in the mansion, the sort of thing that leaves him feeling mildly repulsive for simply doing things without feeling anything about them. It's...not precisely something he wants to experience again, even if the fighting was interesting; he doesn't particularly envy Jaeger for the memories he's receiving if they're all like that, to put it gently.
However...
His own memories, obviously, aren't really any better.
The first thing that's immediately obvious is the pain - it spreads quickly from your system, though it's particularly gripping at the back of your head, spreading up and over your skull and into your temples, the pressure heavy and pulsing and as the migraine ebbs out for brief periods of time it's replaced immediately by the sensation that your nerves are on fire. Your spine, your extremities, everywhere, it's like there's something sharp and burning digging into your skin, setting off clusters of pain and causing your body to resist movement, but you're going to keep pace as you make your way toward wherever it is you're going - you can hear voices, a pair of people talking, and as that registers so, then, does the heat.
It's unfathomably, unfathomably warm where you are, the heat rippling off the exposed skin of your upper body in waves that are almost visible, and it's likely not long before you see the reason why - there's a lava flow very close to you - no, not a flow, an open roiling lake of it, an entire active caldera lying open in front of you and in areas just below the metal structure you're standing on. A plane? It seems to be, one of those large, expensive jets that the military likes to buy for two billion dollars a pop nowadays.
But that doesn't matter, none of it matters - not the heat or the molten rock or the plane or the pain centered in your head. What matters is the people down below you, and even though your sunglasses are off you can't fucking see - you're aware of their forms, you can tell that they're people, one large and bulky and the other smaller and slighter and less important to you overall but you can't make out their features, and for a brief moment you really, really want to be able to make out their features and the fact that you can't agitates you but in a moment that doesn't matter either, a momentary urge that you're quick to dismiss as pointless - but as it stands the point is that you know Chris is there, and that knowledge sends a sharp, cold burst of anger flooding down your spine, dripping down frigid from the inside of your ribs like cracked ice.
"I should have killed you years ago... Chris." Your breathing is jagged as you speak, labored and heavy and forced out hard; whatever's happened to you before this has taken a toll on your body, as little as you like it you're not in any sort of condition to fight - but what the hell else are you supposed to do? Lie down and die?
Not while Chris is still alive, not while you're still able to breathe in the first place.
"Your mistake. It's over, Wesker!" Chris is quick to yell back, and he and his little friend - the woman, the one that doesn't matter to you - they've both pulled guns on you. You don't have yours, but that's all right.
Perhaps more than all right.
"Over...?" And even though your breathing is labored and your body is still resisting movement, you're able to walk toward them, moving a few steps closer atop that downed plane, ignoring the smoke and the heat from the metal. And because you know this plane better than anyone else in the world - better than Chris, better than his friend, better than anyone else who could have possibly harbored the foolish desire to stop you - you manage to laugh a bit, the sound deep and harsh and there's a flicker of genuine anticipation underneath it. Not amusement properly, but eagerness; the sort of coiled, predatory feeling one would expect from a cat toying with something before breaking its neck. "I'm just getting started."
And because you know this plane better than anyone else in the world, you're confident when you break the hull, punching it so hard the metal ruptures and so does the missile immediately beneath it, and while there's pain in it - not from the break, but from what you've broken into - it's a good sort of burn. The kind of thing that reminds you that you're still alive, even if your body hasn't been properly alive for eleven years.
It takes your right arm almost immediately.
It stings, really, perhaps a bit more than you'd expected, the thick black tentacles wrapping quickly around your wrist and traveling up over your arm, spreading to take your chest, your shoulders; it bites hard into your skin, most of the sting centralized over the place where your heart is located. You can feel a similar process happening at your back, just over your spine, digging into a spot between your shoulderblades; the pain is worth it, however, dragging out a massive amount of pure adrenaline from your system as the virus floods your mind, and after a while you can't feel the distinct line where you end and it begins and there's pleasure in it, undeniable massive amounts of sheer ectasy, and you can feel the power coursing through your body as readily as the agony was when the memory first began.
Some of the tendrils hit you in the face, whiplike, as you draw your arm back, and you can feel the scars burn into your skin immediately, portions of it simply corroding away; when you withdraw your right arm from the hull a large amount of shrapnel comes with it, and you twist it around between the structures enveloping your hand. The control you feel over Uroboros is immediate, there's no question over whether it will allow you to use its power to do whatever you want it to do; Chris and his friend make the mistake of lowering their weapons, as though they're trying to process what it is they're seeing.
You had so much faith that Chris would understand; the action serves as visual confirmation that he never will.
Shame.
His loss.
"Time to die, Chris."]
Edited 2018-08-13 08:50 (UTC)
[The first thing to occur to him is that this probably shouldn't be happening. The pain and the heat, sure, but the lava too, but any momentary confusion and concern is blurred out quickly by everything else. What matters isn't the pain, or the lava, or the plane, right? Right, it's those people down there, the people he can't quite make out, even though he really should be able to.
But he knows one of them, at least. The cold burst of anger isn't exactly familiar - Jaeger's never done anger very well, he gets riled and he settles quickly, his anger is hot and quick and done leaving him exhausted and drained - but right now, in this moment, nothing could feel better.
Well, almost nothing.
Uroboros feels like nothing he's ever experienced. The anger and pain are familiar even if they're to degrees he's never properly felt in his life, but this? This is something else. Calling it power is doing it a disservice, but there isn't a word that really comes close. The rush that comes with it is fascinating and suddenly he's certain that whatever happens from here on out is going to be fun.
(But it isn't fun, is it? It can't be, not when it ends with—)
Let's see how this goes, shall we? Let's see what Uroboros is really capable of.]
But he knows one of them, at least. The cold burst of anger isn't exactly familiar - Jaeger's never done anger very well, he gets riled and he settles quickly, his anger is hot and quick and done leaving him exhausted and drained - but right now, in this moment, nothing could feel better.
Well, almost nothing.
Uroboros feels like nothing he's ever experienced. The anger and pain are familiar even if they're to degrees he's never properly felt in his life, but this? This is something else. Calling it power is doing it a disservice, but there isn't a word that really comes close. The rush that comes with it is fascinating and suddenly he's certain that whatever happens from here on out is going to be fun.
(But it isn't fun, is it? It can't be, not when it ends with—)
Let's see how this goes, shall we? Let's see what Uroboros is really capable of.]
[It isn't long before you find that very little matters anymore.
Chris and his friend draw back from you as you jump down after them, coming down hard off the metal platform of the shattered hull of the plane and landing heavily on the sheet of rock they're both standing on. You've always tended to land heavily nowadays, what with the added mass given to you by Progenitor, and compounded with the weight of Uroboros as it continues to creep across your upper body you can feel the ground shake beneath your feet as you straighten up. The pair of them have their guns drawn, metal glinting dimly off the glow of the lava below you, and as you draw your right arm back and lash out with it, sending the mass of tentacles crashing whiplike around you, the large strips of shrapnel embedded in the end grating hard against the rock and kicking up sparks, they rather wisely seem to reconsider their plan of just shooting you - they decide they would actually quite like to live, and they turn and run instead. That doesn't faze you; it just makes you more determined to pursue.
There's a place they're trying to get to higher up in the caldera, away from the churning molten rock below; the girl actually makes it.
Chris does not.
The outcropping they were trying to make it across breaks beneath him, and he drops a good distance further down into the caldera; you consider both of them briefly, but as far as you're concerned there's really only one option - you jump down after him, yelling something at him as he staggers to his feet.
"Why can't you understand, Chris? Do you really believe this world is worth saving...?"
He does, and you know he does; he's always been a good boy like that. Too altruistic for his own good. It's something you might have found admirable once, that sort of optimism in the face of adversity; deep down, however, you've always known it for what it is - painfully naive, stupid, the insipid ramblings of a spoiled child unwilling to see the particularly hideous truths of the world even when they're right in front of his face.
What a goddamn waste.
"Natural selection leaves the survivors stronger and better - humans have escaped this winnowing for far too long."
"Chris! Get to higher ground!" His little friend is screaming now. Unimportant. Annoying, but unimportant. Like a fly begging to be swatted. "I've got him- "
There's a gunshot somewhere from up above, higher on that ledge that she's managed to make it to; it rings out, catching you in the left arm, and there's a sudden tight blast of pain to it as a good amount of skin and muscle is destroyed by the shot, more of that deep corrosion taking its place before Uroboros shifts to compensate.
Your left arm is taken just as easily as the right; the pain is deeper this time, drawing an involuntary sound out of you (are you yelling? you can't tell anymore, what matters is the pain because things like this usually don't hurt) but even that's quickly replaced by the ecstasy flooding through you again, the adrenaline and the pleasure and the power, and you don't remember deciding to give up on Chris but apparently you have because you're using those powerful tendrils to propel you upward and onto that ledge with the girl. It's better than those jumps you made in Umbrella Prime, the leaps upward to deal with Sergei's "brothers"; this is effortless, there's no questioning in it, and even though you're still fucking pissed at her for shooting you it's becoming very difficult to remember the pain that brought you up here in the first place.
"War and pestilence, wherever you go - everywhere, nothing but loathesome humans..."
You can feel the gunshots piercing your body as you speak, coming from the direction of that spot you left Chris behind in. They don't matter; the bullets can't stand up to Uroboros' strength.
They still don't understand, but they're going to.]
Chris and his friend draw back from you as you jump down after them, coming down hard off the metal platform of the shattered hull of the plane and landing heavily on the sheet of rock they're both standing on. You've always tended to land heavily nowadays, what with the added mass given to you by Progenitor, and compounded with the weight of Uroboros as it continues to creep across your upper body you can feel the ground shake beneath your feet as you straighten up. The pair of them have their guns drawn, metal glinting dimly off the glow of the lava below you, and as you draw your right arm back and lash out with it, sending the mass of tentacles crashing whiplike around you, the large strips of shrapnel embedded in the end grating hard against the rock and kicking up sparks, they rather wisely seem to reconsider their plan of just shooting you - they decide they would actually quite like to live, and they turn and run instead. That doesn't faze you; it just makes you more determined to pursue.
There's a place they're trying to get to higher up in the caldera, away from the churning molten rock below; the girl actually makes it.
Chris does not.
The outcropping they were trying to make it across breaks beneath him, and he drops a good distance further down into the caldera; you consider both of them briefly, but as far as you're concerned there's really only one option - you jump down after him, yelling something at him as he staggers to his feet.
"Why can't you understand, Chris? Do you really believe this world is worth saving...?"
He does, and you know he does; he's always been a good boy like that. Too altruistic for his own good. It's something you might have found admirable once, that sort of optimism in the face of adversity; deep down, however, you've always known it for what it is - painfully naive, stupid, the insipid ramblings of a spoiled child unwilling to see the particularly hideous truths of the world even when they're right in front of his face.
What a goddamn waste.
"Natural selection leaves the survivors stronger and better - humans have escaped this winnowing for far too long."
"Chris! Get to higher ground!" His little friend is screaming now. Unimportant. Annoying, but unimportant. Like a fly begging to be swatted. "I've got him- "
There's a gunshot somewhere from up above, higher on that ledge that she's managed to make it to; it rings out, catching you in the left arm, and there's a sudden tight blast of pain to it as a good amount of skin and muscle is destroyed by the shot, more of that deep corrosion taking its place before Uroboros shifts to compensate.
Your left arm is taken just as easily as the right; the pain is deeper this time, drawing an involuntary sound out of you (are you yelling? you can't tell anymore, what matters is the pain because things like this usually don't hurt) but even that's quickly replaced by the ecstasy flooding through you again, the adrenaline and the pleasure and the power, and you don't remember deciding to give up on Chris but apparently you have because you're using those powerful tendrils to propel you upward and onto that ledge with the girl. It's better than those jumps you made in Umbrella Prime, the leaps upward to deal with Sergei's "brothers"; this is effortless, there's no questioning in it, and even though you're still fucking pissed at her for shooting you it's becoming very difficult to remember the pain that brought you up here in the first place.
"War and pestilence, wherever you go - everywhere, nothing but loathesome humans..."
You can feel the gunshots piercing your body as you speak, coming from the direction of that spot you left Chris behind in. They don't matter; the bullets can't stand up to Uroboros' strength.
They still don't understand, but they're going to.]
[Of course there's only one option, it's always been Chris, hasn't it? There are others, yes, he's heard plenty about them, but the only one that matters right here and now is Chris, and it's finally time to settle things - no, to end things.
Do you really believe this world is worth saving...? He knows Chris' answer and he knows his answer, but it almost feels like there's something wrong with that. It's not as though he wants to stop; Uroboros feels wonderful and the heat, the pain, the anger are all more than worth it - so he doesn't pursue, he lets the thought go and focuses.
Ah, but then there's more pain with the gunshot and that's deeply unpleasant. It doesn't last long, because Uroboros is still present and ah - there goes his other arm. Oh well, it doesn't really matter, does it? There are more important things to focus on, like the damn girl. It's not like she'll be a nuisance for much longer.]
Do you really believe this world is worth saving...? He knows Chris' answer and he knows his answer, but it almost feels like there's something wrong with that. It's not as though he wants to stop; Uroboros feels wonderful and the heat, the pain, the anger are all more than worth it - so he doesn't pursue, he lets the thought go and focuses.
Ah, but then there's more pain with the gunshot and that's deeply unpleasant. It doesn't last long, because Uroboros is still present and ah - there goes his other arm. Oh well, it doesn't really matter, does it? There are more important things to focus on, like the damn girl. It's not like she'll be a nuisance for much longer.]
[Eventually, the gunshots stop. Chris' little friend is about to fall, after all - too far a jump onto too narrow a ledge, and the rock crumbles beneath the impact of her landing. If she drops, she has nowhere to go; it's then that Chris decides he's going to do something.
And because absolutely no one pays Chris to think, he decides he's going to punch a boulder.
You know that you shouldn't stop to watch this, but the fact remains that you do; Chris decides he's going to move an entire boulder by himself, and he proceeds to right-hook it into submission and send it careening into the lava flow. Somehow.
...It's about then that you have to legitimately take a moment to try to figure out if your vision is just that bad, if Uroboros is fucking with you somehow, or if Chris literally just punched a fucking boulder; it's another thing that doesn't really matter in the scheme of things, but Chris is a normal person, Chris can't stand punching you and you know it, so how in fuck's name-
You know what, fine, fuck it, that's just what tonight looks like. The girl lets herself drop and darts across the pathway caused by the goddamn boulder to join up with Chris again, but that's likewise fine. Puts both of them in the same place, makes them easier to handle, makes it easier to follow them up onto the high ground again.
So you do. "The human race requires judgement!"
Chris is quick to retort - "And you're going to judge us? Do you get all your ideas from comic book villains?" - but it's worth noting that he's running like hell as he says it; all bravado as usual, then; it isn't worth being fazed by. It doesn't sting, it doesn't cut, it just adds to the cold, driving sense of hatred pulsing through your veins. And you're laughing when you manage to catch Chris with the massive tendrils that have overtaken your left arm, laughing as they wrap around his neck and drag him off the ground (it isn't the first time you've choked him like that, it isn't the second or the third either), and you manipulate that shrapnel in your right and prepare to pierce him with it and then suddenly he's kicking you in the face to get you off of him a bit. It sort of hurts - he's going for your eyes, one of his heels actually hits target and that is not a particularly nice experience, your left eye has been slightly more sensitive to that sort of thing since the incident in Antarctica - but mostly it's just surprising, the pain is gone quickly enough but so is your grip, and Chris drops to the ground.
And that's when you decide to tear the ground up beneath them.
It's something that you're aware of doing but in the end Uroboros decides how it's going to be done, and when you strike the ground you aren't altogether sure what happens - just that Chris and his little friend are suddenly a good distance away from you and you're straightening up again and everything is seeming very hazy but whatever you just did has caused Uroboros to shift a bit on your body.
They notice it too, and when Chris shoots you the pain is literally blinding.
You don't know what they hit at first but it's soon obvious that it was the disturbance caused by Uroboros at your chest; there's a core there that you were vaguely aware of before but are intensely aware of now, glowing and writhing against the mass of tentacles over your chest, bulbous and pulsating and exposed, and as you will Uroboros to shield it Chris immediately jumps on you before you can, using his weight to drag you back and off-balance and hold you in place.
You scream at him, hoarse and sudden. "I can't lose - not to you!"
Chris ignores you. "Sheva, shoot him!" is the most you register before feeling that same sharp pain in your chest that implies that core is being punctured.
"I can't - not without hitting you!"
"Then shoot through me!"
The next several seconds are...difficult to register; you're aware of the girl - Sheva? - leaping forward, something sharp and glittering in her hand just before she plunges it into that core, stabbing you again and again and it feels like something in you is dying every single time she does it, you can feel your control slipping along with your general grasp on what's happening, and when she finally jumps off of you it's so Chris can drive his own blade directly into the core over your spine.
It's like that time in the labs, being pierced straight through and left to die, only things aren't going dark yet - you can feel your consciousness slipping, but you aren't going to die, not here, not yet, you fucking can't, and it takes everything you've got to stagger back away from them, putting some distance between them and you.]
And because absolutely no one pays Chris to think, he decides he's going to punch a boulder.
You know that you shouldn't stop to watch this, but the fact remains that you do; Chris decides he's going to move an entire boulder by himself, and he proceeds to right-hook it into submission and send it careening into the lava flow. Somehow.
...It's about then that you have to legitimately take a moment to try to figure out if your vision is just that bad, if Uroboros is fucking with you somehow, or if Chris literally just punched a fucking boulder; it's another thing that doesn't really matter in the scheme of things, but Chris is a normal person, Chris can't stand punching you and you know it, so how in fuck's name-
You know what, fine, fuck it, that's just what tonight looks like. The girl lets herself drop and darts across the pathway caused by the goddamn boulder to join up with Chris again, but that's likewise fine. Puts both of them in the same place, makes them easier to handle, makes it easier to follow them up onto the high ground again.
So you do. "The human race requires judgement!"
Chris is quick to retort - "And you're going to judge us? Do you get all your ideas from comic book villains?" - but it's worth noting that he's running like hell as he says it; all bravado as usual, then; it isn't worth being fazed by. It doesn't sting, it doesn't cut, it just adds to the cold, driving sense of hatred pulsing through your veins. And you're laughing when you manage to catch Chris with the massive tendrils that have overtaken your left arm, laughing as they wrap around his neck and drag him off the ground (it isn't the first time you've choked him like that, it isn't the second or the third either), and you manipulate that shrapnel in your right and prepare to pierce him with it and then suddenly he's kicking you in the face to get you off of him a bit. It sort of hurts - he's going for your eyes, one of his heels actually hits target and that is not a particularly nice experience, your left eye has been slightly more sensitive to that sort of thing since the incident in Antarctica - but mostly it's just surprising, the pain is gone quickly enough but so is your grip, and Chris drops to the ground.
And that's when you decide to tear the ground up beneath them.
It's something that you're aware of doing but in the end Uroboros decides how it's going to be done, and when you strike the ground you aren't altogether sure what happens - just that Chris and his little friend are suddenly a good distance away from you and you're straightening up again and everything is seeming very hazy but whatever you just did has caused Uroboros to shift a bit on your body.
They notice it too, and when Chris shoots you the pain is literally blinding.
You don't know what they hit at first but it's soon obvious that it was the disturbance caused by Uroboros at your chest; there's a core there that you were vaguely aware of before but are intensely aware of now, glowing and writhing against the mass of tentacles over your chest, bulbous and pulsating and exposed, and as you will Uroboros to shield it Chris immediately jumps on you before you can, using his weight to drag you back and off-balance and hold you in place.
You scream at him, hoarse and sudden. "I can't lose - not to you!"
Chris ignores you. "Sheva, shoot him!" is the most you register before feeling that same sharp pain in your chest that implies that core is being punctured.
"I can't - not without hitting you!"
"Then shoot through me!"
The next several seconds are...difficult to register; you're aware of the girl - Sheva? - leaping forward, something sharp and glittering in her hand just before she plunges it into that core, stabbing you again and again and it feels like something in you is dying every single time she does it, you can feel your control slipping along with your general grasp on what's happening, and when she finally jumps off of you it's so Chris can drive his own blade directly into the core over your spine.
It's like that time in the labs, being pierced straight through and left to die, only things aren't going dark yet - you can feel your consciousness slipping, but you aren't going to die, not here, not yet, you fucking can't, and it takes everything you've got to stagger back away from them, putting some distance between them and you.]
[Well, that was... something. He thinks he vaguely remembers hearing something about Chris punching a boulder, but that doesn't seem right. No, that's not important. It's not important what Chris did to the boulder, what matters is that they're together again, but that makes it easier to get rid of both of them.
And that is what he's going to do, because they're standing in the way, because Chris always seems to be standing in the way. This is the last time, this time he'll die—
(Something in him doesn't like the feeling of strangling Chris, but he can't figure out why for the life of him. It's almost like there's something he's forgotten, something that seems really damn important... but is that really more important than killing Chris? Of course it isn't.)
But disappointingly, Chris breaks free, and then Uroboros is doing something (hell if he knows what) and oh, there's the pain again. It's worse this time, worse than the migraine from earlier, worse than anything he's ever experienced before and maybe if this had happened at any other time it would be enough to get him to stop, but for now... for now he has to keep going.
(And that core, there's something about that too, isn't there? It shouldn't feel like that, it's never felt like that before - it's never felt, period. He needs to protect it, he can't let it break—)
It's infuriating that they're managing to stagger him like this, but he's not the sort to lie down and die, he's never been the sort to lie down and die and he's certainly not starting now.]
And that is what he's going to do, because they're standing in the way, because Chris always seems to be standing in the way. This is the last time, this time he'll die—
(Something in him doesn't like the feeling of strangling Chris, but he can't figure out why for the life of him. It's almost like there's something he's forgotten, something that seems really damn important... but is that really more important than killing Chris? Of course it isn't.)
But disappointingly, Chris breaks free, and then Uroboros is doing something (hell if he knows what) and oh, there's the pain again. It's worse this time, worse than the migraine from earlier, worse than anything he's ever experienced before and maybe if this had happened at any other time it would be enough to get him to stop, but for now... for now he has to keep going.
(And that core, there's something about that too, isn't there? It shouldn't feel like that, it's never felt like that before - it's never felt, period. He needs to protect it, he can't let it break—)
It's infuriating that they're managing to stagger him like this, but he's not the sort to lie down and die, he's never been the sort to lie down and die and he's certainly not starting now.]
[It's becoming difficult to tell how much of what you're perceiving is actually happening - the blurred vision, the pain, the heady rush Uroboros is trying to give you to sustain you and keep you awake and on your feet, all of it is culminating in a generally bizarre experience that's threatening to fold in on itself at any given second. You spend a moment wanting to give in, to let yourself drop and give it a couple of minutes so you can regenerate, but you have neither the time nor the space; for a moment you just breathe, and you can feel yourself baring teeth, and Chris and Sheva are lowering their weapons again as though trying to figure out if all of this is over or not.
(It isn't, you know for a fact that it isn't, but it's incredibly difficult to force yourself to move right away.)
As hard though it is to make yourself focus, you're suddenly aware of a few things in rapid succession.
The ground beneath you isn't very steady.
You stagger.
You fall.
Your nerves immediately die.
You're screaming anyway, granted, harshly and involuntarily, but it's a purely physical reaction - you can't feel anything up to your chest, and Uroboros is not having it and is starting to die off with the rest of your body and mentally speaking you can feel it leaving you, and the next several moments are a disconcerting blur as the anger swells up within you again, you've died alone before and you aren't going to-
You're screaming Chris' name, and it contains all the fucking rage you've ever felt - towards him, towards Umbrella, towards this entire godforsaken world - and when you use Uroboros for the last time it's to lash out; there's a helicopter there and Uroboros has it in its grasp, not to try to save you but to try to bring it down with you, because in the end that's how you've always wanted it, how it was always going to be between you and Chris, and you can't see him properly or know precisely what he's doing but you can hear the blast, the shot, the sound that sends a pair of projectiles toward you at high velocity and there's a heavy, sudden impact with your head that you barely register before everything goes dark.
When the memory releases you it's sudden; there isn't anything further.]
(It isn't, you know for a fact that it isn't, but it's incredibly difficult to force yourself to move right away.)
As hard though it is to make yourself focus, you're suddenly aware of a few things in rapid succession.
The ground beneath you isn't very steady.
You stagger.
You fall.
Your nerves immediately die.
You're screaming anyway, granted, harshly and involuntarily, but it's a purely physical reaction - you can't feel anything up to your chest, and Uroboros is not having it and is starting to die off with the rest of your body and mentally speaking you can feel it leaving you, and the next several moments are a disconcerting blur as the anger swells up within you again, you've died alone before and you aren't going to-
You're screaming Chris' name, and it contains all the fucking rage you've ever felt - towards him, towards Umbrella, towards this entire godforsaken world - and when you use Uroboros for the last time it's to lash out; there's a helicopter there and Uroboros has it in its grasp, not to try to save you but to try to bring it down with you, because in the end that's how you've always wanted it, how it was always going to be between you and Chris, and you can't see him properly or know precisely what he's doing but you can hear the blast, the shot, the sound that sends a pair of projectiles toward you at high velocity and there's a heavy, sudden impact with your head that you barely register before everything goes dark.
When the memory releases you it's sudden; there isn't anything further.]
[No, no, he's not giving in - he can't—
The fall and nerve death probably should be more troubling than they actually are, but it's the feeling of Uroboros receding, leaving that really does it - he's not going to lose Uroboros, if he loses that then what does he have left—
There's nothing cathartic about the screaming or the rage, and all the struggling in the world won't save him now. But who cares about living when you can drag them to hell with you—
And then suddenly he finds himself in a dark room, abruptly released from the pain. For a moment the rage is still present, hot and blinding and almost overpowering, but as he begins to recognize the room and remember where he is, the anger begins to die off.
There's something almost akin to an ache in his chest where it feels like something is missing. Not the core, not the anger or hatred or pain, but Uroboros.
Jaeger suddenly feels very cold.
He's upright before he can think to stop himself (and maybe he would, just to let Wesker sleep for a few more minutes), his left hand finding the blastia while he steadies himself on the bed with his right. The cores are gone, Uroboros is gone, he's himself again and that...
...How the hell does he deal with any of that?]
The fall and nerve death probably should be more troubling than they actually are, but it's the feeling of Uroboros receding, leaving that really does it - he's not going to lose Uroboros, if he loses that then what does he have left—
There's nothing cathartic about the screaming or the rage, and all the struggling in the world won't save him now. But who cares about living when you can drag them to hell with you—
And then suddenly he finds himself in a dark room, abruptly released from the pain. For a moment the rage is still present, hot and blinding and almost overpowering, but as he begins to recognize the room and remember where he is, the anger begins to die off.
There's something almost akin to an ache in his chest where it feels like something is missing. Not the core, not the anger or hatred or pain, but Uroboros.
Jaeger suddenly feels very cold.
He's upright before he can think to stop himself (and maybe he would, just to let Wesker sleep for a few more minutes), his left hand finding the blastia while he steadies himself on the bed with his right. The cores are gone, Uroboros is gone, he's himself again and that...
...How the hell does he deal with any of that?]
[Wesker isn't sleeping very well.
The...experience (dream? memory? he can't tell and it bothers him) has ensured that he's just kind of lying there for a while, trying to get some feeling back into his system and finding it decidedly harder than he'd like; his own emotions are usually muted as it is, he doesn't like it when they just leave like that, and that entire thing has left him feeling strange and tetchy and he doesn't have much of a way to articulate it outside of just...not liking it.
He isn't feeling much but he's definitely in a fucking mood when Jaeger wakes up; it startles him a little, and that's enough to get him to force himself to let go of the experience for the time being - he turns to see what Jaeger's doing, and he doesn't know what to make of his hand over the blastia like that.]
...Jaeger?
[He doesn't sound like he's still shaking off sleep; it's likely obvious that Jaeger didn't wake him, at least.]
Are you all right...?
The...experience (dream? memory? he can't tell and it bothers him) has ensured that he's just kind of lying there for a while, trying to get some feeling back into his system and finding it decidedly harder than he'd like; his own emotions are usually muted as it is, he doesn't like it when they just leave like that, and that entire thing has left him feeling strange and tetchy and he doesn't have much of a way to articulate it outside of just...not liking it.
He isn't feeling much but he's definitely in a fucking mood when Jaeger wakes up; it startles him a little, and that's enough to get him to force himself to let go of the experience for the time being - he turns to see what Jaeger's doing, and he doesn't know what to make of his hand over the blastia like that.]
...Jaeger?
[He doesn't sound like he's still shaking off sleep; it's likely obvious that Jaeger didn't wake him, at least.]
Are you all right...?
Edited 2018-08-13 10:45 (UTC)
[He turns a bit to look at Wesker when he hears his name, but it still takes a moment for the question to register. Is he all right?
...It feels sort of like every nerve in his body has been fried and he's honestly not sure if that's a lingering feeling from literally falling in lava or just the shock of experiencing that much rage and hatred.
He traces the casing of the blastia for a moment while he tries to work out an answer - it's almost reassuring to feel the familiar weight of metal on his chest and that... it should probably bother him more than it does at the moment.
He's been quiet for entirely too long, but to be honest, he's not any closer to finding an answer.]
...I don't know.
[Well, that's... a start...]
I had a dream...
[He trails off after a moment, considering that.]
...No, I think it was a memory. But it wasn't mine, I wasn't me.
[He's likely not making any sense and the words are strange and halting in a way they never are, like finding each one is a struggle, like putting a coherent thought together and finding the words to articulate it is just too much to handle at the moment.]
...It feels sort of like every nerve in his body has been fried and he's honestly not sure if that's a lingering feeling from literally falling in lava or just the shock of experiencing that much rage and hatred.
He traces the casing of the blastia for a moment while he tries to work out an answer - it's almost reassuring to feel the familiar weight of metal on his chest and that... it should probably bother him more than it does at the moment.
He's been quiet for entirely too long, but to be honest, he's not any closer to finding an answer.]
...I don't know.
[Well, that's... a start...]
I had a dream...
[He trails off after a moment, considering that.]
...No, I think it was a memory. But it wasn't mine, I wasn't me.
[He's likely not making any sense and the words are strange and halting in a way they never are, like finding each one is a struggle, like putting a coherent thought together and finding the words to articulate it is just too much to handle at the moment.]
[...Oh.
That gets him to sit up fully - while he hadn't been inattentive earlier, he's certainly paying attention now, feeling almost uncomfortably alert.]
I... Likewise.
[He almost doesn't want to know, but some part of him is certain that he already does - ]
...Was it one of mine, then?
That gets him to sit up fully - while he hadn't been inattentive earlier, he's certainly paying attention now, feeling almost uncomfortably alert.]
I... Likewise.
[He almost doesn't want to know, but some part of him is certain that he already does - ]
...Was it one of mine, then?
[If Wesker's assuming that it was one of his then that means that he presumably experienced one of Jaeger's, right? That seems to make sense.
...He's not sure how he feels about that, either. He should probably be at least sort of upset? Most of his memories have been very out of context, but none of them have been good. Either way, he should be having a reaction and he just... isn't.
He takes a moment to breathe, then moves to press the heels of his hands against his eyes like the pressure will help stop whatever the actual fuck is happening to his head and help him settle.
He'll manage to nod eventually, and when he does manage words they're still strange and halting, but at least they come a little easier.]
It... Yes. It was... a lot. There was a lot going on. Chris was there. I - you? - really hated him.
[...That is not helpful at all. Give him a moment, he knows there's a way to explain all of this but his brain is just refusing to cooperate.]
Uroboros, it... it was Uroboros.
...He's not sure how he feels about that, either. He should probably be at least sort of upset? Most of his memories have been very out of context, but none of them have been good. Either way, he should be having a reaction and he just... isn't.
He takes a moment to breathe, then moves to press the heels of his hands against his eyes like the pressure will help stop whatever the actual fuck is happening to his head and help him settle.
He'll manage to nod eventually, and when he does manage words they're still strange and halting, but at least they come a little easier.]
It... Yes. It was... a lot. There was a lot going on. Chris was there. I - you? - really hated him.
[...That is not helpful at all. Give him a moment, he knows there's a way to explain all of this but his brain is just refusing to cooperate.]
Uroboros, it... it was Uroboros.
[That...it still doesn't explain much, several of his memories have to do with Uroboros and a handful of them have to do with Chris, but he imagines there are very few of his memories where the content would be this upsetting.]
Come here, Jaeger. It's all right.
[He shifts a bit; do you want contact, because you can lean against him if you want.]
Come here, Jaeger. It's all right.
[He shifts a bit; do you want contact, because you can lean against him if you want.]
[For a moment he just sort of stares, like he has to actually take time to process what Wesker's saying and doing, and the the usual desire to be close takes a moment to show up.
But it does show up and he moves to lean against Wesker, just sort of letting himself collapse once he's there.
...Wesker really isn't very comfortable. But he always likes this, he always wants to be close even though it isn't comfortable. It always gets him to settle and relax, and even though he still feels like he's having trouble processing everything, he does begin to relax a little bit.
That's about when it sinks in that what he experienced wasn't his own death. It probably would be easier if it had been, which is probably a bit concerning, honestly.
It gets him to tense after a moment and suddenly he's shaking.
The first thing he really properly feels (that's his and not something lingering from the memory) is fear. Wesker's right here and he's fine (physically, at least) and there's no reason to worry but suddenly he's terrified that if he looks away for even a moment, something will happen to Wesker. Some part of him is fully aware he shouldn't be worrying, but it's also a relief to feel something that isn't hate or fury so for once he just... lets it happen without trying to convince himself he needs to stop.
He'll be okay eventually, but for now he's going to latch on as tight as he possibly can.]
But it does show up and he moves to lean against Wesker, just sort of letting himself collapse once he's there.
...Wesker really isn't very comfortable. But he always likes this, he always wants to be close even though it isn't comfortable. It always gets him to settle and relax, and even though he still feels like he's having trouble processing everything, he does begin to relax a little bit.
That's about when it sinks in that what he experienced wasn't his own death. It probably would be easier if it had been, which is probably a bit concerning, honestly.
It gets him to tense after a moment and suddenly he's shaking.
The first thing he really properly feels (that's his and not something lingering from the memory) is fear. Wesker's right here and he's fine (physically, at least) and there's no reason to worry but suddenly he's terrified that if he looks away for even a moment, something will happen to Wesker. Some part of him is fully aware he shouldn't be worrying, but it's also a relief to feel something that isn't hate or fury so for once he just... lets it happen without trying to convince himself he needs to stop.
He'll be okay eventually, but for now he's going to latch on as tight as he possibly can.]
[...Good, that's... It's good, it's strange but delayed but eventually the expected reaction happens and Wesker is quick to let one of his hands bury itself in Jaeger's hair, running through it and tousling it gently before just settling into simple, repetitive stroking.
He just lets Jaeger latch onto him, continuing to play softly with his hair and giving him a moment to try to settle a little; it occurs to him after a moment that the feelings seemed to transfer along with the memories, and Jaeger has never liked being angry, and one of the only things that Wesker was capable of feeling back then-
...Ah.]
It's going to be all right. We're safe here.
He just lets Jaeger latch onto him, continuing to play softly with his hair and giving him a moment to try to settle a little; it occurs to him after a moment that the feelings seemed to transfer along with the memories, and Jaeger has never liked being angry, and one of the only things that Wesker was capable of feeling back then-
...Ah.]
It's going to be all right. We're safe here.
[The hair-playing is always nice; it takes him a moment, but he does lean into it eventually. He's still shaking and he's still worked up, and slowly he's starting to feel other things besides fear - sadness and frustration being the main two. There's a spark of anger there as well, though it's nothing compared to the raging inferno in Wesker's memory.]
I... I know. I know it'll be all right. And... I know we're safe, nothing like that is going to happen again, you're... you're not going to...
[But he already died here, didn't he? What if something happens again?
Jaeger's grip can't get any tighter, and he's certainly not going to be letting go any time soon.]
I... I know. I know it'll be all right. And... I know we're safe, nothing like that is going to happen again, you're... you're not going to...
[But he already died here, didn't he? What if something happens again?
Jaeger's grip can't get any tighter, and he's certainly not going to be letting go any time soon.]
I won't leave you.
[His voice is steady, at least; he seems calm, even if he isn't precisely feeling it at the moment - he doesn't entirely understand what's happening in Jaeger's head, though he does have a far better idea of what happened in the memory Jaeger experienced.]
Even if something happens to me, I'll always come back to you.
[His voice is steady, at least; he seems calm, even if he isn't precisely feeling it at the moment - he doesn't entirely understand what's happening in Jaeger's head, though he does have a far better idea of what happened in the memory Jaeger experienced.]
Even if something happens to me, I'll always come back to you.
...I can't lose you.
[The shaking hasn't stopped, but he is settling a bit and the words are coming easier.]
I believe you, though; I know you'll always come back to me. And I... I'll always be here, no matter what, and if I need to wait for you I will. It doesn't matter how long it takes.
[...]
Please... don't let go just yet. I'll be okay, but I just... I need a minute.
[He needs a hell of a lot longer than a minute.]
[The shaking hasn't stopped, but he is settling a bit and the words are coming easier.]
I believe you, though; I know you'll always come back to me. And I... I'll always be here, no matter what, and if I need to wait for you I will. It doesn't matter how long it takes.
[...]
Please... don't let go just yet. I'll be okay, but I just... I need a minute.
[He needs a hell of a lot longer than a minute.]
Take as long as you need.
[He'll keep playing with Jaeger's hair; he adjusts a little bit to hold Jaeger against him a bit more firmly, but he doesn't seem to be going anywhere or trying to pull away.]
...We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But we can.
[He'll keep playing with Jaeger's hair; he adjusts a little bit to hold Jaeger against him a bit more firmly, but he doesn't seem to be going anywhere or trying to pull away.]
...We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But we can.
[...Does he want to talk about it? To be honest, no. But he doesn't like the idea of pretending it never happened either. Well, okay, he does like that idea, but he's trying to be better about not ignoring his problems or running from them, and this probably is something they should talk about.]
I... think I need a little bit to process all of that. It was... a lot.
[He's settling, though; the hair-playing and Wesker's grip are doing wonders to calm him down.]
...Did you... experience one of my memories?
I... think I need a little bit to process all of that. It was... a lot.
[He's settling, though; the hair-playing and Wesker's grip are doing wonders to calm him down.]
...Did you... experience one of my memories?
I did, yes.
[It's a bit easier for him to talk about it; it was less overwhelming and more just...very bizarre, even if it did put him in something of a mood due to all the dampening going on.]
You were speaking to Cumore about weaponry, and then you fought some people.
[It's a bit easier for him to talk about it; it was less overwhelming and more just...very bizarre, even if it did put him in something of a mood due to all the dampening going on.]
You were speaking to Cumore about weaponry, and then you fought some people.
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