𝙰𝙻𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝙺𝙴𝚁

This was above practicality, however. Though Alexia detested Alexander Ashford for bastardising her lineage in how she and her brother had been conceived, she’d found a solace in being able to distance herself from him. To be named the daughter of Veronica, the true heir; to erase him from the lineage as a disgrace had been wholly vindictive. Personal. A dark blot on her life removed so completely in a way she’d never of envisioned she would’ve be able to do when she’d been a little girl. 

“Closure,” she remarked quietly. She was not bereft of sentimentality, even after her rebirth – if anything she appreciated it more after being graced a second chance instead of being left to an icy cage. “There are so many unknowns; perhaps knowing something beyond that cursed legacy you shattered could bring it.” 

It was human nature. Though they’d both evolved well and truly above homo sapien but to cast it off entirely would be foolish – arrogant. 

Alexia’s touch moved from his wrist to his hand, arms coiling around his bicep and fingers delicately smoothing down against his shirt sleeves, and ever so gently did she rest her head against his shoulder; reminisce of times long gone in pockets of light they’d both shared when Umbrella had allowed their paths to cross. 

“I could help – only if you wanted to know, though.”

THEIR PATHS HAD REMAINED PARALLEL until that fateful night in Antarctica when he had lain eyes upon the kind of magnificence one is hardly capable of comprehending until after the passing of the fever dream. He recalls, in this very moment, the manner in which he had been singed by flames made manifest from Veronica’s blood, the slap that had him catapulting backward into a felinesque landing -- poised, but winded regardless. 

Such a spectacle had ensued, however, the fondness he bears for that old, particular display of violence is entirely private, entirely theirs. 

Her presence thereafter Wesker’s retrieval of her frozen remains, bereft of chitin, bereft of the form ( that had elevated her to a level beyond the comprehension wrought of Progenitor’s newborn core ) shifted their dynamic in a manner opposite of the initial egregiousness. In his oft diabolical desperation, Dr. Wesker then, had desired naught save the reservoir of pathogen within her that would attain him the necessary position required to move forward, to strip the skin of the proverbial skeletons in his, their, closet. 

But to enact a rescue, regardless of reason, is to bind another’s life to one’s own. How they have aged -- at convergence between the divergence, following separate forks of woodland roads only to return to the same clearing ad infinitum.

The touch of The Countess’s sentimentality does not irk The Corrupter. Not once has she swayed from loyalty, standing tall against his shadow in his darkest of hours. A potentially disastrous dismay is thwarted in a manner only she is capable of achieving and thus, Albert does rise, expression unreadable. 

He allows her hand to remain upon his shoulder for a moment, produces a languid blink. The dulled nature of his bioluminescence denotes the presence of a curiosity once buried beneath the sedimentary layers of an unfathomable cruelty.     

PERSONALS, DO NOT REBLOG.

VACATION, FAST APPROACHING, has lifted everyone’s spirits considerably -- Barry had taken the Captain aside earlier in the day to inquire a second opinion: Do you think this sweater’s something Moira would like wearing, Albert? 

Wesker, with one glance, had disagreed with a firm no -- advising in favour of a different colour and less....ostentatious a pattern, before chuckling.

The afternoon progressed in a gratingly gradual manner, souring dispositions in desire to be free of a bureaucratic office day. How could he fault the lot, when he too longed to be out in the field, executing another well-coordinated rescue operation? In the past year, significant improvement in their cohesion and camaraderie overall had made his position that much more tolerable. Might he have the gall to claim he is actually fond of a couple members of Alpha Team?

❛ Any intriguing plans for the break, Chris? ❜ He inquires of his, at times, unruly point man as he bustles about, gathering last minute stacks of papers to be tossed prior to their much-needed vacation. The warmth behind his intonation is tenuous, but there all the same. 

❛ Perhaps a grand time is in order with your choice of compatriots. ❜ 

so many people are hurting right now due to various factors whether in or out of their control, and i want to reach out with a message of kindness.

i possess a personal affinity with the hindu deity shiva, who for many of us raised in hindu families is the destroyer and the creator, and the saviour of serpents. serpents are highly sacred in ancient mythology and scripts and represent power, as well as weakness, the duality of human nature. shiva wears the nagaraj, or king of serpents vasuki around his neck as a symbol of such. shiva’s cyclical nature is a parallel representation of the infinite circle of death and rebirth and karmic retribution as seen in the concept of ouroboros. 

while i’m not a devout worshiper in terms of traditional practices, i keep him in my thoughts. it was my 21st birthday, when i was at a low, low point alone at my college apartment at the time, that i begged for some kind of release from guilt and pain so i could truly grow into a better person. it was an experience i can’t explain, but something out there answered. 

shivaratri, or the night when shiva’s devotees as well as those who share affinity, takes place on monday -- but i am already feeling a high vibrational energy of positivity and peace. i want you all to know that as a collective, you have my empathy, and despite whatever perceptions many may still hold of me, i am truly no longer bitter. i enjoy joking around, i enjoy laughing, i’m enjoying it more and more. i was letting go of things in chunks, i’m letting go of all of it slowly and the road ahead is hard, but it’s hard for all of us, and i’ve accepted that -- supporting one another is the best course of option, and here in this wonderful community of talent, there is no longer any place for toxicity, vagues, drama of any kind. one block and an internet troll is gone. at the end of the day, you’re here to have fun -- and you should never feel any kind of obligation or pressure to be here. i’m learning to find the silver lining in everything, and go from there. some people don’t deserve to stay in your life and the universe finds a way to remove them. others deserve a place, or will return when it’s apt.   

* i additionally want to note that i am especially happy to have been helping with running the biohazard/resident evil roleplay masterlist, @biohazardml, alongside @horrorempathy -- a link to which has been added to my blog navigation. updating that list with the new blogs that come along fills me with a sense of pride i’ve not felt in years. you should all feel so proud to be a part of something i’ve come to believe is truly the golden age -- nothing can harm us as long as we stand as a collective. regardless of personal differences or difference of opinions, there should be no ill will nor malicious intent here in this community. i am coming to accept that i also have an example to set, even if i at times don’t believe myself deserving of such respect. i am truly rooting and supporting all of you, regardless of your personal thoughts on different things, regardless of everything, because at the end of the day, you all make a conscious decision to be a good person. it isn’t easy, but that’s what makes it so satisfactory. 

THE SCINTILLATING AROMA OF her chosen scent for the evening wafts to his nostrils long before her tangible presence. Business and pleasure, sheep whisper, are not to be mixed – and yet they enjoyed the thrill in all their baaa baaa baaa, indubitable hypocrisy. 

He’s little patience for that. The thrills in the trade come and go as inevitably as the sun rises and sets, but precise factors will remain constant. A steel butterfly approaches, and the silence of her slinky movement is deafening. Ears ring with illicit talks shared in the dark of night, another city on the brink of apocalypse now. Cloying cigarette smoke in her enunciation, ah, when was the last time he had a Cuban? Just an hour prior, settling something evanescent into the fabric of his Dormeuil. 

❛ One finds himself lacking the typical patience for wordplay. ❜ Bare hand drags upward, skin on skin – thicker fingers slipping into the gaps between her slender. For a moment, it remains simply like that, their movement in static, before a fluid turn finds her figure held flush to his Pompeii pillar of a chest.   

❛ Over breakfast, perhaps…have you an objection, Ada? ❜ His eyelids lower. She’s caught the Devil’s master settling in for a reprieve, natural haired, free of salary-killing product. 

Affair’s nothing if not memorable. 

His dirty gold’ll brush against her neck as he stakes another claim, lip curling as the dynamic reaches fortissimo -- the anchor of their intimacy vividly depicting his otherwise private appassionato. Her wily talons gouge a sick scarlet up and over Wesker’s spine ( blood on snow, life on death. ) 

Flawless arc, the both of them, spiraling off into the unknown. Somewhere.

His tongue traces the shape of her waxy lips and they laugh, low. She’s heard his before in higher volume, that laugh…Spain was entirely different context, but produced the same sound. 

   this  one  was  different.  

   not  some  useless  cattle-form  of  human,  all  malleable  and  meaty  and  incapable  of  harboring  it’s  larvae.  not  compatible  in  the  same  way,  either,  far  from  relative  in  blood–the  rankling  virus  promoting  sick  crimson  would  not  bear  it’s  children,  it  can  only  imagine.  (in  this  form,  reproduction,  spread,  has  become  futile  and  is  not  it’s  concern.  it  has  implanted  it’s  only  viable  candidate,  despite  william’s  relentless  resistance.  it  serves  now  only  to  protect  itself,  and  consume.)  

   his  scent  is  familiar,  if  sullied  and  new,  blood  and  flesh  and  metal,  and  the  virus  manifested  in  the  sonnentreppe.  the  forefront  head  turns  like  a  curious  bird.  what  will  he  do?  would  he  fight? 

  albert  wesker  provides  a  new  challenge.  a  new  life  form.  he  isn’t  one  of  it’s  imperfect  children,  or  the  dead-mouthed  humans  shambling  somewhere  above,  or  fleshy  and  soft  for  it’s  rending  teeth.  will  you  not  allow  me  to  speak  to  my  friend?  william.  resistant  host.  master,  and  not  at  all.  it  can  still  feel  his  grief  like  hot  coals,  how  he’d  groaned  and  cried  and  howled,  sher—ry!! 

    in  response,  it  lifts  onto  it’s  legs,  heavy  fingers  twitching,  exposing  the  veil  of  birkin’s  face,  skin  pulled  taut  like  a  wet  film,  humanoid  arm  breaching  the  strong  mold  of  G’s  leg,  dangling  uselessly.  

WHILE EXPECTING SOMETHING of the nature, witnessing Birkin’s distended form still manages to elicit a twitch of the lip coupled with the raise of brow from the elder B.O.W. An exhalation composed of far too many phantoms escapes his flaring nostrils -- he makes his advance, slinks forward in his tatters. This sin-eater is unable yet to have consumed his betrayal of S.T.A.R.S., however, all thoughts on the matter lapse as G’s viral markers call to the Mothervirus, alerting within him due to growing proximity.     

❛ Enthralling. ❜ Deadpans, eyes narrowing somewhat at a display meant to get under his skin. What can be done regarding William, at this point in time? Golgotha would not give up its host, it is physically impossible to separate the two -- control, however, may be exerted still. He will not entreat William, dormant as the man remains, but rather, communicate with Golgotha itself.  ❛ Is this meant to deter me, little one? I recall when you were but a molecular structure within Trevor’s recesses. Come, let us make a deal. ❜