#valour bound

[warphotoss]

❛ why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? ❜

A small fraudulent smile formed on Stefano's face. His yellow eye pinned on him as he tilted his head curiously to the question.

'WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL ME WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE?'

"Everyone has their preferences, Mr. Redfeild. Some would kill slow. Others fast. Take their time to see the difference between their choices of desperation. Like..art.." he took a breath. Exposing his arms outward in a deep smirk of amusement. As if the world was his oyster and he was shaping it to his likeness. His smile wide as he took a breath. The sent of death in the air of his victorian style house.

"I consider you a..guest."

[marymycete]

i thought things would be different .

↪     ᵗʰᵉ 𝑫𝑼𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑻𝑶𝒀𝑩𝑶𝑿 .    (  a  collection  of  various unsorted sentence starters .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .   no longer updating .  )

✦ — "I know,"

Pale ( too pale, inhumanly so — a bit of herself, slipping ) hues flicker up towards the man, the ghost of a smile slipping across her features ; small, hardly there, yet it's far from something gentle despite her intention to alleviate some of his worry. She looks tired. Almost rueful.

Rose isn't angry with Chris — she couldn't possibly be, not when he could have passed her into the care of someone else, wiped his hands clean of her with only brief check - ins to ensure she was looked after to ease his conscience and assure himself that the promise he made was kept. Instead, he's been a constant presence in her life, pushing to ensure she was able to live as close to normal as possible for her under the watchful eye of the BSAA.

( she still remembers how excited she had been when she was finally able to go to a real school, how happy it made her, how thankful she was ).

She can't imagine this is how he had wanted her to grow up. Nor does she think it's what her father had wanted for her, nor her mother. But there are lines that cannot be crossed, boundaries that must be acted between. Before she was a person, a teenage girl, Rosemary was first and foremost classified as a specimen ; a threat, something that required constant surveillance lest she step out of line. Her powers were too strong, too unpredictable, with too much potential to go horribly wrong. It seemed that danger was all most agents saw when they looked at her.

It's made her small. Unassuming and quiet, dulled her spirit so that she doesn't draw attention to herself, doesn't make anyone question whether she deserves the little bits of normalcy she's allowed. Only in small moments, with Chris, with the Hound Wolf Squad ( and before, with her mother ) where she starts to come alive, just a little.

"Don't .... I dunno, beat yourself up over it, or anything. It's not your fault. I know you do what you can — and hey, I'd probably be a lot worse off if it weren't thanks to you. Plus," ( she shrugs, and takes a deep breath ). "I had the opportunity to get rid of my powers, and I didn't take it. I could've been normal. So it's my choice, now."

[delusiela]

. @valour-bound , don’t move a fucking muscle.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞, vacant yet still the proof of something living exists. it had been just a minor change, a minor shift in her body and she knew. another life is creeping through the corridors. she could practically smell him.

it begins with her fellow insects, how they swarm and buzz by his figure before the formation of her body slowly forms in front of him until she is ... whole. her body is leaning against one of the many decorative tables, so nonchalant and unbothered by this threatening presence. gloved hand lifts to sit upon her hip, an audible child-like gasp escaping past her lips. " you mean like that? "

[darckcarnival]

how long did that take you to learn?

@valour-bound

It was not uncommon for the woman to visit Chris just about anywhere, so long as there was comfortable knowledge she would show up out of the blue. And not always be using the front door. After all, most of those close with the woman knew full well the half human had a habit of preferring travel through shadows, shifting between the physical world on a far different plane so to speak.

Such a power, a talent really, had taken her a great amount of time to learn, perfect, master. Long ago it had even back fired, trapping her within it's confines to be nothing more than a witness upon horror after horror, merely capable of only using typewriters to speak through or to move various items about in a desperate attempt to help those in the most danger. That was after all the start of it all, wasn't it? So to speak at least. Driven to do anything within her power to preserve and save lives, even with hands proverbially tied. Only years later was she capable to do such things at will.

So, to hear Chris ask her this question, the found family he was, got Darck to release an amused laugh of confusion. One brow perked over purple sunglasses as the gaze shifted his direction. It wasn't so much a sore spot anymore, but certainly an unexpected inquiry he had given.

"The shadow puppetry? Or me just using it in general?" Darck's voice carried a tone of fondness between the syllables. She didn't really talk about how she had learned or how long it took to do such a thing. However, it had certainly become just a common fact that she used this in her every day practically. "Well, at first I wasn't the best with it. Only surface level things. But, as you know I got stuck there for a while... In total I'd say it took me... 3 years or so to completely master? Unfair advantage of course, being stuck as long as I was. Be thankful you didn't see me getting myself tripped up half the time, that was embarrassing."

"A lot harder to learn than the regeneration, I'll tell you that. Course... Being stuck like that, let me help you in the long run... I'd say it was worth the suffering."

[alphateamcaptain]

A FUCKED UP KISSING MEME bc who needs soft kisses when you can have This ! // but I’m sending the ‘ 💔 ‘ to randomize : 3 ccc

Prompt

04. a  bloody  kiss.

TWO MONTHS AFTER THE MANOR INCIDENT , NOT MUCH HAS CHANGED . Chris was still in his S.T.A.R.S uniform , has he not changed since that night ? Did Wesker's actions really cause that much ache and betrayal that he HAD to keep wearing it . It was like he was wearing his once pride and joy even after THE WELL HAD DRIRED UP and he shared the same depiction as a lost soldier , still clothed for a team that no longer existed .

Wesker has changed , has sold himself to someone new , because it was not very hard to do . All his PRIDE or SELF WORTH had been used up already , he did not care who he kicked off the ladder because HE was going to make it to the top .

As they stand now , a prison island far from ANYONE ELSE and they can at last catch up after that eventful night .

He has already beaten Chris hard , showing off his new strength . OH HOW GREAT IT WAS TO BE TYRANICAL TO THE MOLECULE LEVEL ! He used to love to see him smile , now he loves to push you around . Having him held down , you know this will never stop , not until every inch of flesh remembers his hands , his infected eyes . Sunglasses tumbled to the sides , and he holds him down . HOLDING HIM DOWN AND HOLDING HIM DOWN AND HOLDING HIM — He was still holding you .

❝ Tell me when it hurts . ❞

Laying down his mouth onto Chris's , lips were searing hot , hot like blood and warm red just like it . Oh , how terribly cruel , to explore feelings in such a skewed light that now all of what a LOVE could be was him eating at you because you had ate at him , and the cycle will forever loop like this . Biting at lips , teeth scrape across each other , tongue finding bitten cheeks and teasing the tiny , little wounds that perhaps HE had made with beating Chris up , OR MAYBE such a young man still nips at himself in his sleep , holding in the stress only to wake up with sores he could not seem to get his own tongue to leave alone . Now , the old captain made sure there was blood , and swollen lips when he stops loving this .

@valour-bound

[wanderingsongbird]

How painful is it when I get hit by a thrown boot?

"Probably about as painful as you can expect it to be -- especially if it's on the face." A dark chuckle. "I did teach Chris and Vigo how t' do it, so I imagine their boots hurt worse -- steel toed combat boots, ya know?"

@valour-bound @vigos-journal

(Tagging you both since you are the ones in question)

[petrokhelidon]

Leon's not really sure how he ended up at this bar; not sure if he even really wants to be here, or if it's simply the closest most convenient place that's not home, not empty and has some decent booze at an equally decent price. It's a little more upscale than what he usually goes for, no hole in the wall where the air smells like cheap ale, the tables are all a little sticky and the upholstery is long past its glory days, but something fancy and clean with an honest to god cocktail menu that counts about twenty pages sporting somewhat outlandish names like slippery nipple or screaming orgasm; in the end it serves him just fine.

Back on vacation, attempt number━ five, or is it six? He's lost count at this point, he thinks with a wry twist of his lips. If he's entirely honest with himself too, for all his insisting and complaining about it, he's not even entirely sure he knows how to take one. Can't really imagine himself on a beach, not a care in the world, relaxed and thoughts off or, god forbid, on a city trip trying to soak in some local culture like a normal tourist. He's always too on, his mind a mine field of sharply honed survival skills and paranoia, seeing a threat around every corner or bend. Hell, even here, a little more lax and loose with the help of his good friend Jack Daniels, he's still sitting in a position that allows him to clock all sightlines and exits, restlessness thrumming beneath his skin making him feel too tense.

He'd need a lot more of that whiskey to unwind completely, but that, well━ a slippery slope in and of itself. He may have a whole nine yard of issues and sketchy coping mechanisms, but he's not too unaware to realize he's threading a fine line between coping and straight up alcoholism at this point. Not that anyone would really bat an eyelash, looking at his track record of late. A crisis damn near each year at this point and Leon's tired as hell, physically and mentally.

Thus, the vacation. The drinking. The brooding. If he's not careful he'll really turn into Chris Redfield.

As if the very thought of him somehow functions as a calling sign, the man in question steps through the door leaving Leon to almost choke on his drink. It's a little too reminiscent of last time and the sting of that particular encounter is still buried somewhere deep; harsh enough it honestly has him contemplate disappearing beneath the table and orchestrating a quick retreat through the bathroom window dignitiy be damned━ but then Chris's eyes find his own and Leon's still got some pride left. He sits up straighter, blue eyes half-lidded and wary. " We continue meeting like this and I'd be liable to believe you somehow managed to shoot a tracker up my ass while I wasn't looking, " His tone is flat enough the greeting straddles the edge between dry and caustic, though he does uncross his arm and indicate the seat next to him. " Don't tell me there's another crisis already━, " a brief beat, before his brow furrows in actual concern, still trying to comb through the reasons why Chris of all people would be looking for him so quickly after they managed to successfully round up a mission. " Claire's alright? " / CLOSED STARTED FOR @valour-bound

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

❰❰ THREAT ❱❱ sender holds a weapon up to receiver as a threat

"Hello, old friend."

The word had not touched his lips for so long that speaking it now almost felt like another language. Though the glimmer in his eye bespoke of the strike of lightening sharp recognition. One that pools inside him quickly in a hot, liquid anger.

The Entity must have been in an exceptionally malicious mood this time. That, or it recognized the opportunity exactly for what it was.

In any case, he now understood why it had opted to give him back his STARS uniform suddenly. A small but striking alteration that undoubtedly felt like a handful of salt being ground into the wound. He wonders as he watches that oh-so-familiar face if that wound left in the wake of his treachery so many years ago, ever did close.

"What's the matter?" He cannot help but taunt now. The contempt surfacing almost inevitably it seems. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Coincidence might have been the easiest excuse for all of this. But he can't help but feel as if it is just another slight. Being set against him of all people. Who evidently by the knife in his hand still thinks there is some sort of chance.

It was going to be rather satisfying sticking him onto one of those hooks.

As Wesker lunges forward he feels something sharp and smiles at the stinging sensation of something jabbing the vulnerable spot just above his collar.

"Do you really think you're going to kill me again?" He hisses. Each word was as sharp and punctured as that blade. A hint of a smile, so brief that you hardly notice it, forms in the corners of his mouth as he extends one hand to press against it.