i will do the burying [ ... ] a private roleplay blog for marzia vani an original character concept with various verse integrations in numerous genres. currently fixed in the resident evil universe, this blog will contain mature & often triggering content, including but not limited to ; human experimentation , gore , dubious concent , abuse ( physical / mental / verbal ) , brainwashing , terrorism , murder , torture , firearms , suicidal thoughts & ideation , as well as the potential for many others. these are rarely tagged unless requested. narrated by deeds, a sideblog to @thruteeth.
a grimace will betray me & i will betray us both. moral bankruptcy will give way to a brighter future. let the human race fall into oblivion. raise a glass to the new age, disfigured & immaculate. you are the hangman & the noose. they will try to stop you. memory taps a gun to your inner skull & demands you bring back the dead.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
my original batch can be found HERE! i got all kinds of angsty and protective vibes took over, but if u think of any more that you’d like to see on the list, shoot me a DM so i can add it!
“ get behind me… ”
“ stay here. ”
“ don’t worry. everything’s going to be alright… ”
“ you shoot anyone who comes through that door who isn’t me. ”
“ when you love something, you protect it. ”
“ i’ll keep you safe. ”
“ do everything that i say, and we might both live to tell the tale of this night. ”
“ when i say run, i need you to do as i say and don’t even think about me. ”
“ get down! ”
“ close your eyes, you don’t need to see this. ”
“ why wouldn’t i save you? ”
“ it’s alright. they won’t be hurting you again… ”
“ of course i came for you… it would take far much more than that to stop me. ”
“ listen to me… i need to go back out there. but i promise you, i’ll be right back. okay? all i want you to do is stay hidden, and i’ll be back before you know it. ”
“ there’s nothing in this world nor any other, that would stop me from protecting you. ”
“ get out of here! now! ”
“ i knew you’d feel guilty; you do understand that i’d take a thousand wounds if it meant keeping you safe, don’t you? ”
“ i swear to you. as long as i’m by your side, you’ll never be harmed. ”
“ it’s my job to keep you safe, yes, but you could work with me a little to make it easier. ”
“ protecting you isn’t my duty. it’s my privilege. ”
“ who did this to you? where are they? ”
“ listen to me. i don’t think i’ll be able to buy you much time. and once i go out there, the clock starts. so the second you hear us fighting, i want you to run. as fast and as far as you can. ”
“ are you alright? “
“ can you move? “
“ why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected? “
“ you’re a good person. good people deserve to be safe. “
“ i’m going to protect you, now. because that’s what we do for the ones we love. we keep them safe. “
“ stay close. whatever you do, do not leave my side. “
“ i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. no matter the cost. “
his definition of progress is beyond any mortal understanding. zeno's known this for most of his life, since staring into the mirror and glimpsing something more in the eyes staring back. something alive, something big, something hungry, ravenous, godlike. has known since they'd shown him documents, photographs, video of what came before — the sleekness of death cold and merciless, the power pure and primordial, razing the unworthy into ash to better the soil. soil meant to be his for the building upon. soil meant to grow what is bigger, better, than what walks it now and nourished with the meat of those who cannot follow.
whether zeno considers himself one and the same or the next step forward, evolved, he keeps tucked coy to his cheek. lets it sift alongside the smoke uncoiling past his teeth in another unimpressed breath.
marzia's fortunate he likes her work, finds her more promising than victor does. because when she pushes back, it easily tempts the hitch in his fingers, the creeping claw down the nape of his neck, the eternal reminder: you suffer no fools, no mediocrity. cull the herd at the first sign of weakness. but redemption remains holstered alongside lurking instincts. she's far from a red smear on the floor. at least for now.
"it is," he does inform her, though. to let her know that his professional opinion is an axe's blade caressing the curve of her jugular if she's not careful. not something to be tested or questioned. victor gideon knows this too, makes sure to remind him of the time and money he's siphoned into projects that aren't his and how "amateurs" shouldn't be humored so generously. he also likes to flick that forked tongue into a lazy grin and tell him he should keep an eye on certain talantless hacks. lest a scalpel press between his shoulder-blades, carve towards a perfectly poised spinal column.
but gideon's dramatic and arrogant. zeno will be the final judge on what's worth the honor of his attention, especially with so much at stake. and so close within his reach.
which is why he is an eerie quiet, letting marzia present her discontent with some petty show-and-tell. continues to smoke throughout as his eyes follow her both in and out of the video with head still held aloft, unbothered. takes meticulous note of every detail, even the disapproving line within her lips and the way her brow knits together just enough. the subtle pick-up of a pulse rabbit-quick with its pretty flutter and the dusted scent of frustration dancing some sense of vague amusement behind his shades. he does admire the tenacity, the passion in her work. perhaps even the determination with which she confronts him now.
his eyes are watching hers unblinking, intense, while his mind shuffles lazily through the images of her botched cadavers. his lip eventually curls just so. "fine. there will be an improvement in your next shipment." he even slides his phone from his coat, taps in a text with sharp jabs, and sends it off before tucking it back away.
even he cannot deny the inadequate produce, the clumsy marksmanship. pathetic, wasteful — his sneer is more for the soldiers than for her. has him taking one last hit off his cigarette before grinding it out into an empty petri dish beside him. those overzealous thugs will be dealt with and she can stop her complaining.
"is that all, then? higher quality meat?" he continues to stare down the slender slope of his nose at her, through the tinted lenses that hide unyielding gold and the stains sunk so inky black. "next time, send me a more detailed report on what you require instead of settling." he bends subtle at the small of his back just enough to loom in closer. "i don't like excuses. these corpses and what they yield or fail to… it's all your responsibility." his head does that languid tilt again and his earring swings shining with the turn. "or have i given you too much of that?"
it will never be safe to wonder, not here, but she catches herself at the precipice of it nevertheless. coaxing a filigree bundle of nerves into a pocket for the picking. when did one stop seeing people as people ? enough had been beneath saw and blade to suggest she should have, by now, realized they were as he said. meat. they were the mice in the cages, pricked by leaking needles. they were the subjects behind glass walls, screaming till their veins collapsed and whatever mutagen polluted their system won out, spectacularly. days to weeks, months to years, she'd known him for many now and, still, the droll tone he spoke in provoked horror not quite abject, but there. as paper thin as her willingness to entertain it. gone just as quick.
" no. " he leans forward, she moves back. presses the base of her spine to the edge of a cool, steel counter and then turns to pursue further distance. would remind him that he could have been anyone, there, sneering his superiority, and she'd have done the same. walked away because the proximity made her itch. " i fully understand what you expect from me. " from where she'd retreated, back to that pile, it's the third in the stack that a gloved hands reaches for. pulls at the flesh already peeled loose and brings it back with a wet schlop. " but i don't think it's understood what i'm expecting. "
no one would have called her bold without first considering it. put her spine in one hand, shit in the other, see which weighed more. so that motion, her holding the strip of meat high for his inspection ? it's discolored, but not entirely foreign.
" i don't expect you to know why this is important, " squelching between her fingers, rolled back to a palm that holds it steadier, " but i would hope for you to care about what i have to say. " like most days, she wonders how she got here. what misdirection from a wanton mind had allowed her the detour into the lion's den ? put her into contact with people who stood so imperiously. looked down their noses so sharp until it was impossible not to catch her own reflection in glasses that did her no favors. same as before, that train of thought derails in the lonely quiet.
" can you tell me how long this body was left before it came to me ? " again the flesh rolls, parried by her thumb before it can fall, " can you tell me why that matters ? " he could, she figured, come up with something. lazily stitch together an explanation that doubled as one more threat for the weighing. so she gives no pause for him to do so. the gore wants to be free and so she allows it. splat ! it's not so messy as were it fresh and that.. that's her issue.
" i don't care about the quality of the meat, " his word, not hers, wielded to better hide her disgust for it, " i just want something to get here before it putrefies and i have to fish through maggots to find something worth testing. " a straighter stance doesn't bring her confidence into alignment, but it fashions her with the illusion of something close, though temporary. " you know i'm good at what i do. please.. " above or below groveling, it hadn't ever been determined, " i'll make up for this. i always do. "
and she could, now, too..
the slippery slope of off-course projects was complicated. required a practiced hand when navigating it, one she didn't have. an interesting abnormality in a gallbladder, though, paled by comparison to why she had those most recent of bags strung heavy under otherwise alert eyes. always watching for a sign of worse to come. always aware that it was closer than she thought.
" ...i.. " two breaths, a third held, and marzia has backtracked again. walked a somewhat hastened beeline for the table at the opposite side of the lab. smaller than her usual, evidence that this one saw much less activity, at its center, a microscope was pre-aligned. " i did find something the other day, though. " bigger now, it's movements could be spotted with a squint. dancing in the combination of neutralizers, a sprig, barely a root, stood at attention for a like-bodied predator. odd behavior if it'd been someone other than zeno. those patches of sickness that crawled over pale skin ; through the smoke she still smells it.
" it was feeding on the gut bacteria of one of my recent subjects. " living off of the decay in a shambling belly.. science was remarkable. " i have a feeling you know what this is. " thought extinct, cropping up in a dust bowl that was uninhabitable to most all other life.. if it could survive the explosion, there was no telling what more sat below the city. " what i don't understand is how it got there. and why is it only now showing up ? " thirty years was a long time for evolution to wait.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
full name : dr. marzia amina vani
date of birth : november 10th, 1974
gender / pronouns : cis female , she / her
nationality : 2nd generation american
ethnicity : french / italian
occupation : forensic pathologist , coroner
sexual orientation : pansexual
location : undisclosed
alignment : neutral evil ( by association )
height : 5' 6" ( 170 cm )
weight : 132 lbs. ( 59 kg )
hair color : sandy / light blonde
eye color : hazel
faceclaim : rosamund pike
defining markings : small scars on both hands from the clumsy use of tools as a pre-med student. a more substantial chemical burn on her right forearm, near the bend of her elbow, from the 'misuse' of caustic materials. missing the tip of her left pinkie finger. simple lobe piercings, not often worn. a very, very small tattoo ( dime size ) of an indistinguishable bird on her left wrist.
disorders : medicated for ocd, minor anxiety, seasonal depression. undiagnosed cases of ptsd & add. develops degenerative scoliosis as she gets older.
there's no sad stories or dramatics that string together marzia's early life. born in hershey pennsylvania, both her mother and father were unremarkable people. the former lived the modest life of a discontent housewife, padding her loneliness with alcohol and occasionally other men. the later ? she couldn't have picked him up out of a lineup, his career far more important that a normal, boring home life. both loved her well enough, best as they knew how, and she'd not know any better was out there until much later.
as she got older, excelling at and completing school, it became more evident that whatever relationship her folks had, it was threadbare, existing for her benefit more than anything else. not for the first time, she'd felt pity for them. wouldn't have wished such a sad farce on anyone.. it was almost a relief when she'd gotten the news that her father had passed. sudden, a widow maker in the garage, home from another weekend in the city. she doesn't remember her mother crying. couldn't say she did, either.
college was always in her future. paid for by her father's life insurance, marzia fell headlong into her studies. fascinated by the scalpel, her peers passed their judgement till the bitter end. unnerved by her steady hand or, maybe, they'd simply been jealous of it. she hadn't bothered getting to know more than the occasional lab partner — throw away relationships that didn't last once graduated. a few rungs down from the top of the class, she'd sank into the internships she scrounged up, learning from old men with poor manners, just how and where to cut a body without nicking something important. all things she'd paid attention to. made good use out of them when she'd eventually taken their jobs. one from retirement, the other from death, she'd done his autopsy with a particular level of vindictiveness.
and that was her life. toiling away among cadavers, jotting down her findings and making full the file cabinet beside her desk. a shuffle from one hospital to another.. borrowed by outlying cities because their coroner was unavailable. displaced by family emergencies or, more often, too lazy to leave their summer retreats.
╰┈➤ tldr ; tying in to the storyline of resident evil xo
asking why wasn't part of the job. the phone rang, she'd answered, and the drive from pittsburg to raccoon city was made. under two hours, but not by much, it was meant to be in and out. give answers to some questions.. identify the markings on a dead woman's throat. but that was the problem. three days in at the morgue and she'd not determined a cause. couldn't give an explanation for why some of the wounds looked canine and others— not so much. it's after marzia makes the call to jot down the alternative that the phone calls stop coming. the black van retrieves the dead. she's sat in an empty lab when the ultimatum is given, perched at the end of a barrel.
she knew hush money when it was offered. met it with scrutiny that couldn't hold steady once enough zeroes were stuck on the end of an already steep number. the hiker, the campers, the bodies fished out of the river, she'd let the evidence be seized. all proof of the arklay incident was wiped clear from her hard drive. if she suffers guilt for what came next, it's hard to tell.
she'd not been there when the outbreak started. taking the hint, she'd squirreled away, home to an empty condo where the only sight of the fires she got were from news outlets that, days later, rescinded their reports. people died. she knew why. knew who sat comfortably behind it. ought have been ashamed for how quickly she'd accepted the position when umbrella offered it. swallowed into their ranks, another lab coat that shuffled through a daily grind with the rest.
at first, the subjects were all the same. insurance claims that blamed their company for untimely deaths. none amounted to more than cash grabs and she'd etched her name on the documents that denied them that. that went on for months. years. a dull, monotonous life, wasted carving up the dead, examining enlarged hearts and livers that hinted there might have been a tap or two to point towards instead. it's when the deceased stopped being normal and average that life got.. interesting.
biologists are a different breed. their work challenges man and god and where the fuzzy line sits between the two. her role wasn't to design the viruses that stripped whole nations of their numbers, rather, it was to understand why and how those viruses had, eventually, failed. what good was a weapon that didn't work ?
important men with deep pockets have a nasty habit of shuffling their boards from time to time. when one company sank, another rose. and another after that. faithful to whomever signs her paycheck, doctor vani continues to provide feedback and intel for a number of employers. the only thing more impressive than those steady hands of hers, over the last few decades, is her adaptability. a cunning liar, she manages what would appear to be a humble life to those outside the lab. and to those in it ? she's been afforded a wide berth lately.
his existence is a ghost's — a haunting on the edge of blurry bodycams and so many redacted black blocks on paper. and yet, his phantom's routine is busy and full. the connections expect much of their secret investment, this labgrown tyrant in a three piece suit. he also expects great things from those he's poured funds and time into. anything less than progress and perfection is chum for the waters, food for victor's endless supply of worms.
so when he detects stagnation, disgusting in its waste of time and money and so many pounds of rotten flesh, he takes matters into his own hands. descends from his hidden hideaway to observe his investments firsthand and confront the delays directly. it's only a few times that he's needed to terminate what cannot be salvaged. only a few times he's had to wipe the spatter from the barrel of his gun.
he'd like to think marzia vani will not disappoint in this way. she had first been considered a "debatable" pool of his funds, but he's found her work reliable enough to continue. she's produced results decent enough within their transactions to usually keep him satisfied, well-fed from behind his monitor. but there have been times… well. dr. gideon likes to remind zeno that he shouldn't waste his time on mediocrity, that she is a backalley butcher where he is a master craftsman. and though she has proven herself adept enough to push those accusations to the back of his mind, there has been a significant drop in quality lately. and it's enough to bring zeno's boots to the ground.
escorted within the labs, he's flanked by guards and smoke alike. orders the former to remain outside the doors whilst the latter trails after him in serpentine plumes. naturally, marzia tries to remind him of the rules as soon as he enters. naturally, he ignores them.
he takes his time, his strides more a languid saunter that navigates him unhurried through the sprawl of her work on the whiteboard, across the counter. he drags from his smoke and surveys the data and photos, the slabs of specimen and the variety of petri dishes awaiting observation. she talks and he doesn't, just a shadow looming closer and closer until he's in front of her and exhaling another round. "no. i didn't."
blunt, to the point, efficient. he aims to get to the bottom of this because he is owed transparency. transparency and correction. he lets his cigarette smolder between two fingers, watches her over the tops of his shades in a gleam cut sharp off slips of gold. "lately, your reports have been… unsatisfactory." he shifts a look to what she's currently working on, letting it linger, before returning it to her face. "lack of progress is becoming a concern, doctor."
zeno taps some ash aside to the floor. "i wanted to address this in person, see if you agree." a beat, a very subtle tilt to his head and the faint pull up one corner of his mouth. the threat is tucked there, in that folded flicker of a sneer. "…do you?"
thinly veiled threats from colleagues had once consisted of little besides missing reports and misplaced rib cutters. a petty squabbling that made the company of the dead her peaceful reprieve. here, too, had been once — too far back to remember just when that'd stopped. tucked out of sight, sequestered from the rest of the doctors who fancied their work irreplicable. a palpable hubris, they'd dropped like flies. deprived of meat, starved of originality, there'd not been a last laugh, only the quiet she sits in company of, now. their witness to a conversation stilted in half-questions and hot, smug air to match the smoke that he blew.
" that depends what your definition of progress is, sir, " zeno doesn't bite his tongue and neither does she, once busied hands failing to choose any particular place to idle. counter to lap, back again. nervousness turns the movements into a frustrating parry, stopping once the left had snagged the right and fingers wrung one another, rather than empty space. " my tests haven't stopped. "
her tests had merely changed.
he fills a room without trying. siphons the air till her breaths turn deep and in between bouts of holding them, marzia settles. accepts this for what it is. pressure for diamonds. tap the vein till it remembers how to produce.
" is that your professional opinion ? " rarely does he give it lest prompted. influenced by a forked tongue and a one-sided competition. racing towards an imaginary finish line, doctor gideon's penchant for rocking boats and stirring pots warrants how her lip adopts a curl. not a scowl. not yet. but it isn't far from it, either. " i can't bleed stones. " her tone piques defensive and, heels planted, she stands, seeking a distance she's wise enough to know he'd not allow to last overlong. wouldn't risk her catching root enough to put up any real arguement.
seeking out a pair of forceps made the laboratory feel vast. an endless stretch that burdened when it needn't. forced into proximity, it's a paltry, cramped affair. it's clammy palms and the shuffle of documents, all occupied by scribbled notes that'd say the same as what had already been sent. inconclusive.
" tell me what you would do with these cadavers, " frustrated tapping, the monitor flickers to life, password entered under the practiced click of blunt nails. not a video she'd cared to pass along, the details of their autopsy paused when the number of bullet wounds had exceeded twenty and doctor vani entered the scene with an irritable slam of a metal catch tray. inside, the rifling rattles, " your soldiers are clumsy. " careless. they shred viable tissue and give the chewed up remains under the guise of a favor. " they're there if you need to see them, " waved towards the far edge of the room, the tarp separating her workspace from the specimen stands a red-speckled barrier ever half-pulled.
it doesn't stop there, but she does. bites her tongue when the urge to go on surges. a much needed lapse of outrage, she's moved to meet him again. forces her chin up. stares down her topsy reflection in dark shades that only just blot out the outline of zeno's eyes. for that, she's thankful. their weight was enough without the reassurance how she was caught up in the gleam.
" if your patrons want results, i need the right subjects to work on. " not solely what victor had had no use for. greedy fool.
she'd been warned. told in not so few words that another step in the perceived wrong direction and this would happen. but knowing doesn't breed preparation and making herself distracted hadn't changed the outcome. a chopper outside, greeted by someone else. voices on the intercom demanding the doors to be unlocked. with no hole to stick her head in, the sand is just sand... the day is late and her time is up.
doctor vani doesn't move though. perched atop a stool, the wheels squeak when she scoots closer. stares down into a microscope that exposes inadequate findings. regression. it's a knot in her stomach that works its way higher. climbs into her throat and leaves blame placed on the dead. the cadaver wasn't spectacular, only the variable. with breath cast down her neck, the next would end up the same.. the one after that, likewise. but that didn't matter to him. it never did.
zeno needs no introduction, the stink of smog filtering into the lab precedes him.. someone else may have made a show out of it, swung their arms wide in welcome. she hasn't moved. fingers adjust the scope, " this is a no smoking area. "
combustible elements, it's fitting. he wants what she doesn't give. asks for a perfection they both are ever aware drifts further and further the longer victor plays with his food. some nights, when the numbers aren't adding up, she can't help the wonder. how much of his needling is for her. and how much of it is runoff from someone else.
" i sent you an email regarding the samples, " comes quieter, edged around a breath that isn't held, but shuddering. old fear. the same teeth as the ones that'd gone for her neck that first day. his bite is always different, aimed elsewhere, but the results, " you didn't respond. " and she'd been warned.
some days, she'd prefer the hungry mouths over the smug ones.
but smug is all she's got to work with and, after another pause spent shifting the level, pressing the screens, marzia stops. she sits pin-straight and leans an elbow against the counter's edge that makes her turn to face him slow and deliberate. @riphalos would demand her attention if not given freely. there's already headache enough without the weight of that as well. " you didn't like it ? "
