#headlesshydra 08

[cerebralbleu]

@headlesshydra

[txt] there's work arounds [txt] for the blood thing that is

Legato Bluesummers is typing...

[txt] you went and got caught up in that mess? [txt] this city doesn't know when to stop... [txt] lol

[starsplagued]

@headlesshydra

albert wesker had lived his life as a scientist, a spy, and a science experiment. a medical marvel who had been shaped by cruel hands when the warmth of his childhood was torn away. he had been raised loveless under the instruction of spencer, but he had not been raised without manners or tact. he knew how to mask, how to say the right things, and how to charm- but this? this felt like uncharted territory.

at least, territory that hadn't been charted in many, many years.

helena harper is a government agent, 'ada' had said at the wintertide gala. she had some interesting things to say about you, ada had told him in his kitchen. he hadn't been sure what to think of that, and at the time, he had been so groggy that he hadn't really processed the situation at all. that was neither here nor there, now.

now, albert wesker stood at helena harper's doorstep with a peculiar bouquet of red roses, yellow tulips, vibrant gladiolus, and rush daffodils. where words failed, symbolism often worked, and while wesker understood that helena was clever in many ways, he doubted she was versed in the language of flowers. so, the gift was something that could sit pretty on the kitchen table of her home, and his own secrets would remain just as such- if she accepted the flowers, at least.

he knocks on the door, three distinct but gentle taps. ❝ helena? are you home? ❞

[starsplagued]

@headlesshydra ⎛ mistified s.c. ⎠

the fog is thick here- heavy with the weight of memories of the man wandering through. wesker had started to come to terms with his new reality. every so often, he rubbed at the mark around his neck- the mark of a past he didn't want to face. maybe that was why he still wandered into the fog. the stars had whispered something about an inn, where that other part of himself would be staying-

albert wesker had intended to hunt the captain for sport. but this was not the same fog that the so-called hero cop had vanished into; this was something else. there were shapes in the fog. the sound of familiar laughter. a child's laughter- a life that he had almost forgotten.

⎛ . . . ⎠

albert wilde was, without a doubt, quite lost. swallowed in a thick fog, he had been separated from his parents. if he had been any other child, perhaps he would've panicked- not to say that he wasn't worried ⎛ a little scared, but he would do his best to be brave! ⎠but his curiosity urged him to keep going. ⎛ he didn't notice the blond man in the fog, and the man didn't see him. that was for the best. for now. ⎠

like other boys his age, albert wilde enjoyed running around, climbing on things, playing and learning. so he did just that. he took note of the sorts of figures that he saw through the fog, of the flora and fauna. he'd have such fascinating things to tell his parents when he found them, right?

then, he finds himself colliding with a woman- more solid than anything else he'd encountered yet. ❝ oh! 'm sorry- ❞ he offers an apologetic smile, uncertain of how to continue. but, it was nice to run into a person, right? a little less lonely, perhaps...