i dont know if i could bring myself to write resident evil again as ive gotten older it has come to leave a bad taste in my mouth and i have no clue if that has to do with writing here years ago or what. i am about to turn 23 and feel weird remembering this blog exists. i got back into rp a few months ago but on discord for different characters and fandoms and stuff. if you remember me feel free to add me there!! (especially laura i miss her a lot)
im going to fully delete this blog soon to get it out of my head.
discord: jaxbattleaxe#0775
personal tumblr: informaltorching
thanks for the better memories in my shitty teenage years to you all ♡
@reachedout “ I would say all of them, but you might throw back 420,000 words at us.”
are you kidding me i’d tell you to be nice to your dad bc i am not that producive
Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence.
Las Vegas was definitely a title holder in crime and corruption - but never like this. People ran about like stray dogs that lapped up disease filled waters. There was a desperate madness in their every movement, even the most delicate ones.
It was snowing, something quite rare in this setting. People wondered if it was a sign from God and a few preached the end days from street corners. The city is considered a capital of sin and with all at their wits end, it was the only thing that had made some type of sense.
Finn had been in the area, the sudden outbreak of the city’s people attracted the attention of government. The chaos kept building on top of itself. Forces were left trying to put it an end to constant rioting and the outrageous increase of senseless murder.
There was no motive to anything.
Citizens just appeared heavily decayed under a few days. They were appallingly thin in almost impossibly short spans of time. The vessels would break in their eyes, but the blood only pooled against the surface. They had fevers that indicated infections.
The physical appearances were their only clue. It reminded them of Raccoon, even if it wasn’t fully there-but obviously no one wanted to come close to ‘98.
Again, now, it snowed. A rare occurrence that was most likely coincidental, but it made all quite uncomfortable with it’s timing.
Frollo had stood quite deep in thought, all his focus directed into the sky. He had been of those deeming the strange as God’s intentions and he tried to make them out through the snowflakes somehow. He believed it had been God that made him immune to whatever had spread this disaster and he took that as a sign - a sign that his own righteousness was indeed correct.
He had been proud in these dark times.
A young woman had then cut him off- she ran across street and grabbed him, hanging onto his shoulders as she became too weak to stand. She was a low class prostitute, her battered makeup and ripped tights letting him know. She shook from the cold, both under dressed and sick.
“Please, sir, you gotta help me!” The words slurred into sobs. “I don’t want to die!” She didn’t have the strength to hold onto him and sunk onto the ground, her cries becoming even louder.
Frollo backed away a few steps in disgust - what if this whore plagues him? Yet, she crawled towards him, persistent in her will to live. —But God was watching, or Frollo believes so, and Finn had just then arrived after hearing her pleads.
“Are you alright, sir?” The soldier rushes to the woman’s aid almost instantly dropping to his knees, but he speaks to Frollo because he’s healthy and he needed him to stay that way.
Before the older man could part his lips to answer, the woman is far too gone. She latches onto Finn in a sudden outburst and screams in agony. Blood sprays from her mouth, coats the thin layer of snow with a splatter of blackish red.
One man is horrified and the other is disgusted.
The solider holds onto her as she begins to jerk violently. They both knew this was the end of her, she was now absurdly aggressive and a danger to all.
Finn had to make it quick - even if it pained his dear heart. Her spine is loud when it snaps, but it’s finally calming when her body grows limp.
Neither of them speak, instead, they both sit slightly leaned against a wall.
Anecdoche: A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening
There was a shift in time as if the clocks paused when they looked away. One hung above the doorway like an old school classroom, round and analog. The ticks it let out were usually much gentler, much less noticeable.
In fact, Finn couldn’t place in his memory that the clock made any noise whatsoever. It’s becoming distracting.
“Please…focus.” A tired voice cuts through the thick ambiance.
The young solider halfway jumps, unsure what was so startling about it. Perhaps, he can still feel the yelling that was usually accompanied by gunfire and helicopters in that particular voice. He can’t separate anything anymore. It’s so sad. “Yes, sir!”
“–Chris. Things are different now. We’re friends.”
Finn melts back into the spacey behavior almost instantly. Everything around him had appeared grainy and filmy. His mind aligns it with pure static. It felt like he woke up to an entire different world, something much more slow and exhausting. “Yes, sir…”
“God damn it.”
Redfield is only left to wonder if he could ever get a grasp on him. Slowly, he was being defeated by the soldier’s blankness. Things are different now. He lost his friends long before he had them and he lost them along himself.
Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness.
His body is cocooned by it’s own limbs. They press into him so tightly that unlocking each finger from balled fists had become ritual. It was a habit formed four years ago and it’s unsure whether he is channeling a significant part of his previous infection or if war all by itself wore him this insecure.
This particular time, he had found himself on the sofa, a picture rested face down on his chest. His entire body ached, but his head had rung in agony above all the soreness…specifically as he made eye contact with the back of the picture. Easily, he was curious but poor Finn had a lingering feeling behind his neck he was all too used to.
As he turned the photograph over, each and every hair on his arms and neck had stood completely like a frightened cat. He even drops the photo and scrunches backwards.
“You weren’t there.”
Yet, there it was - all the evidence needed laying less than a foot from him. This time it faced up, beckoned him to look. With hesitance, he crawls over to it and tries to scrape together the events in his memory.
Each time he recalls, something is slightly off- the types of differences when re-imagining a daydream. He can’t recreate it - it’s all too murky…but he’s sure it happened. It had to.
She was flawlessly haunting him.
He picks the photo up, studies a woman immensely far in the background. Her black cropped hair, her careful glance, and the overall ghastliness …
…but he cannot remember her being there.
Finn places his thumb over her face, makes out the details of the rest of the image, to that, he finds something just as, if not more, stirring.
He stood in the background, too. The more he thought, the more he had took his focus off her presence - he realized, he wasn’t sure how he got the photo entirely.
“Finn.” He can’t remember the last time they spoke. Too long ago. There’s no use in looking for someone to blame, well aware that it’s his own fault. For months the memory of Finn haunted him, but it compares little to the pain caused by letting him down.
What would he say if he knew everything that had happened? With Carla, with the mess he’d created?
Some things are better left unsaid.
Hitting rock bottom puts everything into perspective, he’s found. Having to build himself back up. No time to dwell on his regrets when he can put that energy into fixing the future. A shame it took him so long to realise it.
“…It’s good to see you. I’ve been worried. Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but I just…need to know you’re okay.”
Pretending he didn’t know of Chris’ actions only did him as much good as someone ignoring plague. There was a bitter taste in his mouth the second they made eye contact, but Finn was never one to voice negativity. He dealt with it, suppressing every emotion.
It festered like infection.
He wants to understand, to feel sympathy instead. He had never followed an unreasonable man...or so, he believes that.
It’s worth trying.
“....it’s good to see you, too, sir.” He gently bites his tongue on the ‘sir’, the word was beginning to feel foreign ... it’s been so long. “I don’t mind talking to you...I don’t feel the same way as the other guys.” It was a lot harder for him to be angry...disappointed, though---easy. He had too much respect and love poured into that man...still does.
“I’d like to think being here is a good sign.” Finn smiles very slowly and swallows. His throat is sore.
Feelings come in waves, their gentleness gradually layering. Overtime, they’re thick and heavy, they crawl between your fingers and behind your eyes.
His felt swollen, all the shades beneath them that skin shouldn’t be.
However, he didn’t cry… Chris’ expectations still mattered, after all. Perhaps the sound of his voice was slowly leaving Finn’s mind, but the words and meanings had carried over.
It’s been ten years. The gravestone still looked new, even after various weather conditions, the respect and honor…and love that everyone had for him showed in it’s care.
Never did the flowers that rested on the plot look aged, someone was quick to replace them. Distinctive orange petals, every time he came around. He wonders if it was Claire or Jill perhaps—someone closer, someone who’s heart can’t be mended from the loss.
But whose heart ever could be?
He places a hand on the stone, thumb gliding over the surface, trying to distract himself. To feel something physical rather than sad.
“I hope you don’t mind that I touch your grave, sir.”
Silence.
The conversations still meant something, even if Chris couldn’t hear them.
“I know I haven’t visited in a while…but,” He traces a flower steam with his free hand. “, I know you’re not alone. I don’t think you ever will be.”
If you receive this you make someone happy. Go on anynomous and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or some that you think needs cheering up. If you get some back,even better💜
ah. thank you! i don’t send out chains, but it’s sweet when i get one like this!
I was just wondering if Andy’s taken you to the zoo yet? He seemed pretty keen for it, so if he hasn’t, you should ask him. I’m sure the two of you will have a wonderful time. Get him to tell you all about the meerkats on the way!
Things are very quiet here without you. Nothing ever stays the same, does it? I’ve been giving a lot of thought to moving on myself. Between you and I, I’ve not been very happy here recently.
But you don’t want to read about my complaints! Please stay in touch and if you ever want to meet up for a coffee or something, just let me know!
