#firstcurse

Spring has always been her favourite season. There's a warm breeze in the air, and everything in Hawkins is blooming. Patty lingers on a particularly pretty bush covered in flowers before pulling her attention back to the street she's driving on. It's only a few more turns before she arrives at her destination, stepping out of the small, yellow car she drives, a car that's been through so much more than it probably should've. The door closes, and Patty wraps her shawl aound herself a little tighter. The house is amidst the forest, just on the edge of the east of Hawkins. It's lively, right now, mostly because of the two trucks standing on the road beside it, and the copious amount of builders walking back and forth from the house to the trucks. Last time she'd seen it, it'd been in a delapitated, abandoned state, and the price for it had been unsurprisingly low. The car door shuts with a dull noise as Patty makes her way towards the former Creel house. It’s been painted in a lovely light blue, not straying from the original colour too far, but looking far more clean than it used to. Renovating cost her a small fortune in comparison to buying the property, but it’d been worth it. She had contemplated this move for years, and now, it had happened. One of the builders spots her with a bright smile- something so different from the way she’d been treated the last time she had lived in this town. Patty smiles back, reaching into the pocket of her brownish, red overalls. The keys have been polished, too, and she attached a pendant to it, a small, shimmering chain of shiny beads and a feather, a gift from her mother. Patty twirls it around in her fingers as she walks up to the porch, greeting the few builders that are walking out of the house. They should be getting done just now, which leaves her alone with the house she’s worked to buy for years. That, and the thoughts she has about her incoming new start in life. The door slides open smoothly, like it was never old and broken. It all feels like it’s almost too much. Seeing the hall clean, warm, homey, it doesn’t feel right. The stairs have been polished, wood gleaming softly in the light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling. She hears a distant goodbye from the builders, and the door clicks shut. Patty takes a breath, slowly, and clutches the pendant on her keys. It’s been almost thirty years since she’s been here, in Hawkins. It has all changed a lot, and she has changed, too, but the strange tug of longing she feels in her chest is the same as always.

She decides to look around the lower floor first. The kitchen feels massive, and so does the dining room. It has a fireplace, and Patty realises she’ll have to learn how to maintain a fire. Her hand slides along the wall as she walks through the hallway towards the stairs, and if she closes her eyes, she’s worried she might fall into a memory with no way out. The steps leading upstairs almost take too long. Her shawl is left hanging on a hook near them, and Patty feels as though she’s a teenager again, sneaking to the second floor, her hand holding another. Her bedroom feels too big for her, but she blames the lack of furniture. Her bed and closet are not nearly big enough to fill it. She’ll have to move some bookshelves. She lingers in that room for a moment, glancing out the window at the trucks slowly driving away outside. She opens the window, letting the light spring wind flow inside, reassuring her as she takes a slow breath. Her eyes travel to the cabinet stood on the opposite side of her room from her bed. It contains some clothes and accessories, and the top of it is decorated with a rather odd choice. Three jars, all of them glass, meticulously cleaned and dusted off by hand. Inside, dried old branches and leaves, flowers and some dried moss. The carefully preserved remains of spiders are kept in those jars- a souvenir of another time, belonging to someone else. Patty gives the jars a fond look before she moves on, walking into the hallway to lower the ladder leading to the attic.

If anyone knew why she’d been longing to go there from the moment she’d been given the house keys, they’d call her odd. She had asked the builders not to touch a single thing there, not to move anything, and graciously, they hadn’t. The ladder thuds heavily against the floor, and Patty has to take another deep breath before climbing up the steps to find herself in the attic. She hadn’t been there since she was a teenager. There’s candles still strewn across the floor, and cobwebs practically everywhere. Patty tries to spot the owner of the webs, but there is no spiders in sight, almost like even the cobwebs are a reminder of a time long past. The floorboards creak beneath her feet as she walks to the middle of the attic. Boxes and suitcases are stacked around here, almost forming a perfect circle. Patty kneels, ignoring the dust that will surely stick to her now, and runs a hand over the floor before her, as if she could remember better what had occured here if she touched the ground she’d one sat on with Henry. 

Part of her thinks she must’ve lost it. Or be in the process of losing it, because Patty isn’t sure what she’s doing when she closes her eyes. She tries to steady her breathing, her racing heart, and silences the voice of doubt in her head. ❝ Henry? ❞ She definitely feels stupid. She’s an adult now, and yet, she’s still trying what a teenager in love would do. Then again, this isn’t the first time she’s talked to herself in her attempts to reach him. She goes about it the way she usually would- pretending like she’s telling him things, as if he’s sat beside her again. ❝ I’m not sure if.. you can hear me. Or if you’re there. But I hope you are. I know, I- ❞ Patty pauses, keeping her eyes closed as her hands fold in her lap. ❝ I owe you an apology. I was supposed to come back sooner, and I wanted to, but I couldn’t. But I should’ve tried, and I didn’t, and that means I failed you. ❞ She sighs. Many years ago, she still cried whenever she did this, but now, the ache is internalised. ❝ I know you’re somewhere out there, even if I’m not sure where. But I just.. wanted to let you know that I’m here. If you can hear me. ❞ Patty bites her lip, a pang of guilt stinging in her chest. ❝ I’m here, and I know I’m late, but I’m here now, and I’m not leaving again. I, uh- I miss you. I still do. ❞ The confession spills out of her like it always does when she does this, followed by another, also a regular occurence. ❝ And I love you. Always will. ❞ Patty trails off, exhaling shakily and letting the silence calm her down. What else can she do?

@firstcurse the starter for Henry / Vecna as discussed 🩷

this....this one intrigues it.

he shines in a way. but it is artificial. a falsity that was granted, not earned in his birth. under normal circumstances, it would have found such a creature pathetic. and yes, he's still very much beneath it.

it is a god. and he will never reach such levels no matter how hard he will try.

but yet...

it has been watching him for some time, slipping itself through the cracks he has been creating between worlds. a loophole of sorts, allowing it to seep itself through the gaps and leave its territory, its prison.

and it simply observed as he went about his mission in a manner similar to itself. hiding his true face, preying on the small, innocent and easily fearful. but he didn't inspire...fear in them. he wasn't consuming them.

it wanted to learn more.

In IT's dreaming state IT is not shackled by the boundaries of human intervention. IT is more than simply flesh and blood and bone. IT is light and madness and fear, the howling void in which all things will one day meet their end. To name IT death was to simplify IT's purpose, death had gentler teeth. To be devoured was to cease to exist as a separate entity, to burn forever in the burning suns of IT’s eyes. IT didn't often go traveling, the wandering states of those who flipped from one world to the other did not apply to creatures such as Itself. IT travelled the inscapes of the Macroverse as IT pleased when IT pleased. At IT’s core, IT was a lazy creature. Why wonder and wander when the realm IT inhabited was so very pleasant? There was the hunt and the dreams, to stretch IT's many limbs in this place of IT's own making... Could there be any greater satisfaction?

But there was something.. Wasn't there? A spark, a light dancing behind IT's eyes. It draws IT from IT's rest and into new awareness, not quite awake, separated enough from the physical that IT was able to skitter along the threads of one world to another, tracing the brightness to it's source. Something different, something new.. Perhaps something powerful.. Not as strong as IT of course, there was nothing that could challenge IT's rule. IT's dominium was absolute. One day IT would grow tired of the cycle and wake to swallow the world. For now.. IT weaves a summoning around the light, gathering the silk in IT's hands and tugging hard. Come to me come to me see me find me.

IT feels his arrival as a brush down IT's spine, the vibration of his footsteps humming beneath IT's fingertips. Power.. It fills the air with a charge, a unique energy that sets IT's teeth on edge even as it entices. Oh this one... This one.. Shining star in the sea of darkness. A lighthouse amongst the flicker of candlelight. This one yes, IT had to have him, be it for amusement or devouring, and were the two not the same in the end?

It's easy enough to turn the eyes of the town away from him, IT couldn't claim to have a foothold in every mind that lived in Derry but enough of them were poisoned by IT's influence. The rest fell in line, encouraged by the others to exist in silence and fear. Some of them knew, some of the ancients, old timers who lived through a cycle or two. Some of them with sparks of their own, just enough light to keep the encroaching darkness away. They knew, and still they did nothing. They turned away, fell in line, broken beneath the magnitude of IT's presence, IT's inevitability. The satisfaction of that was almost a meal in itself.

Down down down he came. IT marks his progress with growing anticipation, claws curling and uncurling around the strands of IT's web before IT simply drops. The inner sanctum was no place for a first meeting, no human that had visited IT's place of landing had ever lived long enough to contemplate the majesty of it. Instead IT makes IT's way upwards, to the stage and IT's pile of hoarded treasures, peering out through the darkness.

Humans were fundamentally disappointing. There's nothing to set him apart from the average male. Nothing but that shine. IT chitters to Itself, watching him break back into awareness and.. Ah yes.. There was the caution. Not quite fear, not yet. Perhaps that would come later. For now IT leans forward from the darkness, compressing Itself back down into a more familiar shape. The clown, beloved intimation, the bells on IT's suit ring softly as IT steps to the edge of the stage.

"What do we have here?"

IT drops to a crouch, tilting IT's head to one side. IT's grin is a sickly thing, fangs bared though no growl rumbles free. Not yet anyway.

2nd year

3rd year (this year!)

she knew something had gone wrong in there. chrissy had shrugged it off at the time as being in the upside down for too long, or just paranoia that he'd managed to get his claws around her again. but she's come to realize that it probably wasn't paranoia after all; hearing him before spring break was one thing, but now... now, she could feel him. like instead of hovering over and around her, he was part of her somehow. the thought made her skin crawl.

and as much as she didn't want to hear that ominous voice in her head again, she had to do something about it. she could only imagine that vecna or henry or whoever he was would be even more determined to get her now. "i know you're there," chrissy mutters. for a second, she wonders if he might actually show himself to her. hopefully not. "i can — i can feel that you are."

The world was quick to move on after his failure in Africa, it was almost like what he attempted to do never happened; that his plan to uproot humanity and wipe the weakest from the slate was never an idea to begin with, and it irritated him. He was so close to fulfilling his goals - his destiny - only to have it ripped away from him by some stupid, boulder punching moron and his sidekick... and Wesker's own ego, fooling him into thinking that he could have ever possibly won. If he had been smarter, wiser, and not so self-centered, he might have succeeded if even only by a small margin. But instead, he was left with a permanent reminder of his failures. Uroboros still remained with him and it was just as potent a weapon as he intended, but it left his body forever changed. Just beneath the surface of his pale skin lay veins of black that pulsated with every beat of his heart. It had stained his body, the worst of it found on the chest where his heart was trapped within a cage of tentacles.

It was miracle he survived as he did, something that still eludes him though he is thankful for it nonetheless. It must've been the work of both viruses working together to keep their host alive and he knew for sure it was the viruses that kept him alive all those years after, out in the wilderness. If he had been any weaker, he'd have died.

But now was not the time to dwell on the what if's and could have been's; now was the time for action.

It was risky, heading into the unknown based on little more than rumors, but his contacts were rarely wrong and they were insistent that this piece of information was all they could find - Something in this town happened, but the security systems were unusually strong and they couldn't find anyone willing to speak about it. Wesker had no choice but to make his way to Indiana himself and find answers on his own and it seemed he didn't have to look far.

His journey takes him to a small town, Hawkins. In books, this place looked quaint, but now... this place was a disaster. It reminded him much of Raccoon City after it was decimated; something similar must have happened here yet every atom in his body keeps him from stepping foot over the border. It makes him uneasy looking at the destruction before him; the rotting buildings, the broken asphalt and the plant life covering damn near everything in sight - a stark contrast to the cheerful nature of the sun hanging overhead.

"What on earth happened here..?"

@firstcurse

@firstcurse | random settings | ** accepting .

" good morning ...! " two rows of high fluorescent lights emit clarity on the prison dr. brenner had put together . henry was powerful and it was only logical the furniture could not move . " it's a big day today henry . " unassuming as he was eerie , dr. brenner's line of tests would push henry to his limits .... but he wanted to risk that to see if henry could push through and prove his theories wrong . because if he could , the blood transfusions would begin .

one of the things will has always feared the most is the sacred, deepest inner workings of his mind being exposed, revealing all the things he hates about himself and dreads for others to know in case they end up hating him for it, too. he's caught in a living hell, his worst nightmare unfolding around him within the clutches of writhing vines squeezing around his body all the way up to his neck, and cold, piercing eyes boring into his soul, wanting to unravel him from the inside out.

he's terrified. there's nowhere to run or to hide, not like he did back when he was a child, surrounded by walls that were as familiar as they were alien, a disturbed mirror of the place he once used to dearly love and now lay within the woods behind his old house in ruin. he feels much like the crumbled, withered sticks that once made up his place of refuge; broken, useless, no longer with a purpose other than to take up a space that used to be something better, something good.

will doesn't think he'll ever be the person he once was, and in this very moment, there's a part of him that wishes vecna would simply end his existence and all the suffering that's gone along with it.

but he's come this far, and somehow, the urge to fight still remains within him, lest everything he's gone through be for nothing. he may be broken and afraid, but he's angry, too, bearing his teeth even though the pressure around his neck could tighten and end him at the barest flick of vecna's wrist.