Jun 14, 2025
@prometheus-folly Portrait
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@prometheus-folly Portrait
Enter stage right, an unusual actor.
For every character this actor had ever been she brought to the table their most perverse timelines. In Ada Wong, it was a grisly, grotesque narrative of sex, brutality, and revenge. With Ada the performance had to evolve over time, as it was her singular and only one, so parts of it were unpolished and sloppy. Every misstep on the stage, all spotlights on her, warranted extreme punitive correction.
The second role was her third life, and perhaps she'd hit the limit like a cat a nine of them. Whoever "Carla" was? She didn't speak to the person whose boots were making dusty blood trails behind her into a lair that was not her own.
Again, enter stage right: Ahab.
"Call me Ahab," she said, with the delight of something unexpected and brand fucking new in the dark of this sterile laboratory space, "Some years ago--never mind how long precisely-- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world."
In a joke to a dead author, Mellvile's text spilled out of her mouth with delivery punctuated by her quickly approaching footsteps.
Ahab was an imposing woman, drifting in with a collapsed harpoon gun on her back and a quiver of sharp silver spears on her leg. She was dressed in black, with a raincoat hood dripping dirty water over her face, a red tatter of fabric around her neck as if it was holding her head on.
"And here what do I find but a little burgeoning empire. Money, money, money."
And dead men.
The woman shucked the hood off. The woman underneath was inhumanly beautiful, with a shock of damp dark hair framing her face. Her eyes shimmered in the dark.
"And whom are you, Miss Whale?"
Recommendations were requested.
While Alex wasn't always in the business of lending out her own material, several books were placed on the table next to the other. Next to all of these were some variant of work done by Kafka, to nobody's surprise — the most worn copy is that of The Metamorphosis, though other notable titles include The Bridge, The Castle, Contemplation, and various other collections of short work done by the author.
It was the Metamorphosis that she picked up first.
One of the things she gleaned from the memories of her former followers was that a person's taste in books told a lot about them. Moreso in how said book was handled. These days, most people consumed stories the way they ate cheap food, quickly, on the go, without taking the time to savor it. A one and done deal before moving onto the next thing.
Wrinkles and creases were more worthwhile to Crisis. Her fingers traced the small, 100 paged novella in every corner that she could before carefully opening the book and reading. Clearly, this one was one she must commit to memory first.
Of course, she is not one to accept the books on their own. They would be treated respectfully, fingered through carefully as she ate up every single new word that appeared before her eyes, but they would not be borrowed without leaving behind appropriate 'collateral'.
It is a hardcovered novel, careworn, but kept in good shape overall. Ridiculously large, but so was the text within, with hand drawn pictures by some nameless illustrator who wanted to bring life to the tale within. It is Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, one of the first books she had ever been exposed to upon leaving the cult she had been born into. This was not the original book, but certainly a tome she cherished, as a book she bought with her first fair earnings.
Once the young woman was satisfied, eyes straying to a nearby chair, as if to invite the older woman to sit and read as well, settled in take in a man's transformation, suffering and tragic death.
PASSION: sender catches receiver’s gaze across the room
cata !
"That dress looks beautiful on you."
Catalina couldn't think of anything better to say in this moment. Today, she knew, was Lara's birthday, and she'd been hanging around Croft Manor as a result. She'd ended up tracking a potential target here a day or two ago, and when in Rome, right? She had nothing awaiting her in one of her penthouses, and she hoped her surprise would be appreciated.
❝ fear what you will become and become what you fear .❞
There's something inherently unsettling about the woman's words. As Rebecca shifts her gaze to look up at her she can't help but be reminded of her former captain, so many years ago it feels like another lifetime. Her gaze hardens slightly, arms crossing across her chest as she keeps her own stance firm. "I'll never use science in the way you or others do." It was a vow she'd made to herself at eighteen. That f she were to continue to pursue her education and enter lab work, it would be to fight against bioterrorism. Never would she fall into tunnel vision like Umbrella's scientists had. Always had she checked herself, made sure her own beliefs and values guided her work.
Do no harm. It had been a part of the vow she'd made at eighteen, obtaining her paramedic certification just before her graduation. She'd held to that vow all these years later. "You can't become what you fear if you refuse to."
❝ i conquered fear and earned the right to become a god . ❞
"Oh, fuck off."
She had no patience for this type of gnosticism, or the off brand prosperity gospel. At least her personal goals had been more realistic- burn the world to burn the world. There wasn't a hidden agenda.
"What's your first tithing huh? You want blood or bones? You want lambs, O' Sun? You've got no more right to deification than the layers of dead under your feet. At least they're honest."
❝ with the strongest of lights one is able to dispel the world.❞
for sam !
"I think that's very true," Sam replied, though they were hesitant to say much more.
Leandro had pointed out Alex's connections to the clones, and while none of herself existed, Sam knew to be wary. Who knew how many clones were in this facility? How many of them were at Alex's beck and call? Could any of them be convinced to switch sides? None of it was certain, and they knew to tread carefully as a result.
"Is there a reason you keep things so dark in here while you work?"
❝ the diabolical sometimes adopts the appearance of good , or even embodies themself completely within . ❞
for cata !
"Of course it does," Catalina replied with a terse little smile. She didn't exactly know what Alex was trying to imply here, but if it was a test, she would've passed. After her time with Umbrella, she'd learned about the evil within, and it horrified her. She'd been a part of that, too - as a spy, she often had to bury herself deep within evil organizations. "In my line of work, that's common sense."