THE PROTECTOR.

OVERSEE THIS, BITCH

[terrasaving]

sherry:

She chokes on coffee when her phone rings, not five seconds after she hung up. Sherry swallows and breathes to compose herself, giving five seconds of breathing time before she picks up and sleepily stutters out a, ”Hello.”

“I’m so sorry for waking you up… It’s so late.”

And Claire is one of them that probably needs the most sleep. She can’t actually go through her contacts list and pinpoint someone who wasn’t on sleeping medication- besides Jake, but he vibrates with energy that defies the confines of the human body on a daily basis. Three cheers for the insomniac’s burden.

“I’m oh ka-” and she stops to really think about it, “No. I’m really not okay.”

She’s kept Claire in most of the loops in her life. Things with nondisclosure agreements attached usually made it into their spoken conversations in person. She told Claire everything: about the insomnia, the sleepwalking, the experiments and tests they put her through at the initial capture (save the one with her arm. She has to leave that one out for her own personal sanity).

“I don’t really know where to start but… can you spare thirty minutes, right now?”

She shifts in her desk chair and takes her coffee back to her bed, watching the neighborhood diner lights flicker in the window.

“I think something is really wrong with me.”

And for anyone infected? It was the worst admission. It was admitting you were either going to die, or kill your friends.There wasn’t an in between, and the current doctors and scientists assigned to her biweekly check ins can’t pinpoint exactly what is going on. Only that neuroimaging has her brain lighting up like a casino and nobody can figure out why.

“I… kind of wish my dad was here. He’d… actually know what was going on. It was his virus.”

She shook her head to shake it off.

“I keep dreaming about Raccoon. Not like it was, but like it is now. I want to go there. I feel like there’s something wrong still there.”

She sounded like her dad. Strung out on coffee and desperately trying to string together something that made sense. That, in and of itself, was terrifying and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

claire suspected it might have concerned golgotha even before sherry picked up the phone. of the remaining figures in sherry’s life, claire had been the one to see her infection, her progression, and finally her “cure” with the antiviral, DEVIL. and in the subsequent years, sherry’s filled her in on the rest; the changes that the virus made to her body, on a cellular level, were beyond anything that claire could ever hope to fully understand.  but she knows what it did. and what was done to study it. the experiments, the tests, all of it.

“ no, please -- don’t worry about that. you didn’t wake me up.”

a lie that sherry maybe sees right through, but claire doesn’t care. she leans forward, phone gripped to her ear in one hand as she moves through the apartment to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.

“ thirty minutes? sherry, you have me for the whole entire night if you need.”

she takes a sip, allowing the liquid to coat the back of her throat in anticipation for sherry’s words. she’s always worried too much about her, and no amount of tests, however numerous or invasive, could ever explain to sherry what exactly was going on with her body. sherry was the first and only patient to become infected with g and survive it. claire understands how she feels. ever since her infection with phobos, her daily life felt strapped to a ticking time bomb. and yet the lack of research on the virus left many researchers stumped as to what the it was actually doing to the inside of her body on a physiological level -- leaving much of it either misunderstood, or simply not understood at all. she balances a fine line between living life as normal and dying suddenly of an adrenaline spike. and that’s if she’s one of the lucky ones.

“ i know, sherry.... “

she pauses for a moment, her voice ever soft, ever assuring.

“ hey, listen. i think, above everything, you’ve always gotta go with your gut feeling. you’ve been dreaming of raccoon for a reason. especially if what you’re seeing is raccoon city now, then it has to mean something. one hundred percent.”

claire doesn’t like the implications of the premonition. but sherry needs to go, and claire’s not letting her go alone.

“ i think you should go. but i’ll be right there with you.”

[terrasaving]

shinylugers​:

a beast of burden; he tramples the stock of smoldering trees with ease - untouched by the licking flames that threaten to consume and destroy foot by foot with alexia’s summoned inferno. steve bleeds gruesomely from open wounds jarring from the forced transformation, bones jutting out with loud cracks that fire off like gunshots in the panic of the air. birds and animals flee the area, and all the boy turned monster can do is heed the call of his virus-borne mother.

even when he breaks past the threshold to see her – its like he’s staring at claire from decades ago. even with all of the weariness of the war against umbrella toiling through her body, crippling her state of mind; you’re still you – he thinks. there’s a flicker of recognition; but in that same thought, the call to tear the valkyrie apart cuts abruptly when alexia pulls the puppet strings in a new direction.

heaving, snarling, his eyes burn with amber and crimson in a mass of eight foot tyrant as steve sets his gaze on jill.

it’s only because he’s had over a decade under the knife and needle that his body has accustomed better, if only slightly less painful than the howling break of muscle and sinew that could bleed any normal man dry and given him a form no longer hunched back and awkwardly sprawling. massive claws with a spring-load of spikes jut from every which way from shoulders and joints.

‘wait – there’s another?’ he can smell the stranger’s blood from here. it’s familiar and yet…

‘but why’

            (  kill her. )

he knew he didn’t want to but the knight’s armor had crumbled, the steel cocoon rusting away in the instant steve lunges forward. with his size, he shouldn’t even BE that fast, but the strike would come down from the sky to sweep his claws for claire’s companion. the melody commands to take her HEAD.

the further steve’s transformation progresses, the harder claire tries to save him. a mistake once made of standing idle as veronica tore through his veins, replacing a human skeleton with something far larger, far more grotesque. unrecognizable to some, but not to claire. alexia, she may hold all of the cards, playing steve’s mind with just a flick of her wrist, but she’s not the only one who has not forgotten.

“ you wanted me, and now you have me. just let him go. please...”

a futile plea that falls on deaf ears. anger consumes her, yet she’s too emotional, every last bit of composure melting off her face in the form of a river of tears, a swath of them. another rush of adrenaline has her heart leaping into her throat, leaving the unforgettable taste of fear to linger in her mouth, bone dry. and phobos enjoys each second of it.

jill is quick to attempt to hold her back, though claire resists her and pushes forward ahead, solid in her judgement that steve still remembers her, even with alexia’s presence ringing in his head. ignited by veronica, perhaps, but not robbed of his human conscience; claire always knew this, but jill does not. 

but yet, when it comes to steve, claire always becomes lost in a little game of heuristics, performing gymnastics in her mind to justify that he could do neither of them wrong.  and what a false assumption to make -- foolish to assume steve would, if given orders, go after her first. too much time spent concentrating on the if’s and if not’s that she did not even realize that alexia had given him a completely different direction to obey.

no. not jill.

she calls to her -- “JILL!!”

-- before instinctively diving in front of her to attempt to protect her, unwilling to lose anyone else she loves.

[terrasaving]

ok i have been pretty lousy with my activity here so i’m going to attempt to get some things done tonight and stay somewhat active. also let me know if you’d like my discord, i tend to be Slightly better at communication there!!

[welkingunther]

[inheaven-mad]

My girl. Saw a cute outfit and here we are.

[terrasaving]

the paris umbrella facility / claire’s criminal record & status in france

consisting of six laboratories spread across the european continent, umbrella’s european division not only housed the organization’s global headquarters, but it was also a notable rival of its counterpart in the united states, umbrella usa.

of the six european umbrella facilities, one of these was located in paris, france, and has the following involvements / achievements: - most significantly, the nemesis project was very likely perhaps completed here. - morpheus duvall broke into the paris facility to steal a sample of the t+g virus. - and finally, claire redfield infiltrated the facility in late december of 1998. (seriously... the paris facility needs better security).

in attempting to place on a map where this facility could potentially be located within paris, i first looked to the design of the building, which, as we can see from the code veronica introductory scene, was incredibly modern, all glass and likely, from what i can assume, was located within or was a high rise building. as such high rises are outlawed within the “ring” of the city of paris, and all glass, modern buildings such as that are incredibly uncommon within the city even were they at or below the allowed height, i therefore can assume with confidence that the parisian facility is somewhere within the île de france region and not necessarily within the “ring” boundary of paris proper.  furthermore, i am fairly certain that the facility is likely near or within the business district of la défense, which is where all of the high rises were built after the city of paris proclaimed no high rises were to be built within the city. also consistent with the building of the umbrella parisian facility, many of the buildings in la défense are indeed built similarly, of glass and steel: below, paris proper, with la défense in the background.

and screenshots i took from the introduction, which shows that the facility is very modern, and the exterior is large glass windows:

following a lead that her brother was in europe, claire made the bold decision to infiltrate umbrella’s parisian facility in hopes that she could at least learn his whereabouts, if not more, including any information or surveillance they had on her brother -- she would later gain confirmation, on rockfort island, that umbrella was indeed surveying him. rather than infiltrating the facility in a quiet manner or asking anyone for advice, claire went alone, with no backup, to a fully armed facility --- furthermore, she made no attempts to do so stealthily. high security and paramilitary forces that did not hesitate to shoot on sight meant that claire had to improvise. any planning she had -- if she had any -- went out the window and she was forced to run, though she managed to injure many and even take down some of umbrella’s men. (however questionable the novelization may be at times): “Seventeen people had been seriously injured by Redfield's dance through HQ Admin, five more dead. “ since infiltrating the facility, claire has been a known criminal in france ever since. the break in, which involved substantial destruction of the facility as well as a handful of deaths ( as well as a breach of confidential information belonging to umbrella and the french government ), claire was not only pursued by umbrella’s own paramilitary forces (by whom she was successfully captured and detained to rockfort island), but the incident also gained the attention of france’s groupe d’intervention de la gendarmerie nationale (GIGN), also known as the elite police tactical unit of the french gendarmerie, one of the most experienced and well-known counter-terrorism units in the world, responding to missions involving terrorism, hostile and dangerous individuals, criminal surveillance, as well as the protection of critical sites. the incident, classified as a terrorist attack given the scale of the damage and the multiple casualties (as well as claire’s subsequent “disappearance”), was a significant cause for concern. 

by umbrella’s forces, claire was taken to rockfort island and imprisoned in a facility there, constructed so that any who knew too much of umbrella would never return. it was expected from umbrella that claire was not to survive, and therefore could not report her findings of the paris facility or what she had learned in raccoon city. her arrival, however, coincided with albert wesker and the hcf’s attack on the island, therefore providing her with the opportunity to escape, and the rest is history.

as of present, it is ... unknown if any of any of the above crimes (charges of involuntary manslaughter, trespassing, battery and resisting arrest, most notably) have been resolved in the aftermath of the fall of umbrella, and as a result, she tries to avoid france -- especially paris -- ever since the events of december 1998. since her organization is an international one, this has proven difficult: claire still is occasionally called to make trips there (but really, she advocates for others to go in her place to france if possible)

[terrasaving]

sherry:

@terrasaving​ 

It’s four in the morning. She’s still awake because she tried to sleep and ended up gasping herself awake. Bad dreams are becoming consistent. 

“Hey… Claire…” she yawns, rubbing her eyes miserably. A cup of coffee on her desk isn’t doing much. She dialed Claire on a whim, got her voicemail. Not the first time she’s called at ungodly hours, but it was the first time in a long time.

“I miss you. If you’re around, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping. I just wanted to call and say hi. See how you were doing.”

She needed to talk to shake herself out of it. Her heart was racing, and her skin felt like it was on fire.

“I could really use somebody to talk to. Call me back when you can. Love you.”

She hung up and set her phone down beside her. Drank a sip of coffee, and shivered despite herself.

much like her brother, claire learned from a young age, fourteen years, the implications of a late night phone call. she may not have been the one to answer that call, but she remembers. it’s been instinct ever since -- phone on full volume.

the medication does its job well, quells the anxiety and puts her to sleep like nothing else could. to think that ten years ago she’d lie awake all night, eyes wide open and twitching from sleeplessness, tracing each swirl of plaster on the ceiling to the count of her own pulse. she doesn’t miss the insomnia, but it’s been replaced by drowsiness that permeates every aspect of her life, her work -- and now, missing the first critical five seconds of sherry’s phone call.

claire jolts awake, one hand fumbling for the phone and the other blindly reaching for the light switch. she must’ve missed her by a second, no more. four in the morning, the clock says -- she is suddenly stricken with panic, her mind already beginning to fill in the blanks of what could be wrong, a million different possibilities of potential disaster. sherry’s a grown woman, she knows this, but claire’s never not been overprotective of her. she cannot help it.

she wastes no time dialing her number back, sitting up in her bed, prepared to get dressed and leave if she needs to.

“ sherry? hi, sherry, i’m here..... i’m so sorry i missed your call.”

claire cannot hide the overwhelming concern in her voice, never could, but she remains calm, offering comfort and and reassurance like she always has.

“i miss you too, sherry. more than you know. talk to me --- are you alright?”

[terrasaving]

myrmecitis​:

PLAYTHING

the summer heat soaked his skin and hair. he found himself sleeping in later and later, avoiding the sun altogether if he could help it. often he didn’t rise from his bed until the sun fell from the sky, the red yolk of a runny egg. he didn’t care what the others said, their prattling fell upon deaf ears. a man used to the brutal, biting cold of the antarctic and a few years back home in england had allowed him certain climates that favored his fair temperament. 

even years on, the sea wind still wasn’t enough. often he threw every window open along the side of the mansion that faced the shore, walked around draped in a silk robe, the embroidered belt barely keeping it closed as bare feet sought the coolness of the marble floors.

this particular morning is dreary. in the middle of december it should be frigid. everything should be dusted in snow like the oil paintings in the library. he should be drinking cognac to warm his blood not lounging along the windowseats in almost nothing, bathing in pink twilight and watching icarus succumb beneath the waves. 

a sigh. he heard heels on the floor. he didn’t need to to turn, he knew who it was. 

“you seem well rested, brother.” he tones like harp strings. “have you gone to check on the workers?”

his head tilts to face the complex below. black smoke was billowing above the bunk houses. the anatomist was burning the remains again. he watched the thick column rise, twirl and spin, getting whipped about by the sea air before being carried off into nothingness.

“not yet.”

“you are their commander, aflred. you must be there to guide them.”

“of course. you are right as always, my love.”

he slips from the room, robe rustling. he doesn’t bother to look for her as she slips between the rows of shelves, deep into her work, as usual. down the flight of stairs, velvet runner tickling the sensitive skin of his feet. he moves down to the foyer and finds a square of white sitting upon the desk. 

the guard is nowhere to be seen. typical.

he snatches the paper and unfolds it with a snap. eyes scan it quickly. brows knit.

intake of new prisoner…. paris, france… 19 years old, female… Caucasian… @terrasaving

like a shot he is back up the stairs. he all but runs to his room. undershirt, pants, jacket. he takes the time to layer on his uniform, pride and detail paid to each piece. he runs a cleaning cloth over the metals and ribbons affixed over his heart and stands before the shattered mirror in the wardrobe.

he needs to get that fixed…

he is already halfway down the stairs once more when her voice rings out.

“alfred? where are you going at this time of night?”

his heart thrums like the wings of a hummingbird. anticipation, sweet in his mouth. he can’t let her see him like this, heat blossoming on his cheeks.

“out-- there is a new prisoner that arrived today. someone special. i am needed.”

he is gone before she can protest.

WKD-4496. that was to be her new identification -- claire redfield was now just another name on a long list of many others, numbers and letters, scrawled on a pad, crossed out, faded. many of them must be dead now.

the guards, they talk about her. a nineteen year old kid, somehow solely responsible for the death and injury of so many umbrella men, as well as the significant destruction of the paris facility. countless windows shattered, substantial explosive damage --- and yet she worked alone. she knew too much, saw too much, did too much, and now her carelessness landed her here. end of the road, must be.

she has not a single clue where exactly she was taken. no fewer than ten hours ago, she was in paris, then handcuffed, blinded, and thrown on a plane for what felt like an eternity. the plane had landed in water. a coastal base or an island prison of some sort, claire deduced. for however long it took, claire struggled to free herself. spent hours writhing against her restraints, only for her wrists to still bear the mark of her failure.

she doesn’t remember anything after. just a soldier on either side, gripping one arm each -- there could have been more, she could not see. the only glimpse, the last glimpse she got before waking up in this cell was the back of a gun directly to her skull.

and now she’s here.

rain. the dampness seems to seep into this cell, dripping so slowly down the wall and collecting into a small puddle at her feet. her hands curl around the bars, so tight her knuckles turn white, and she peers out -- on the table, a stack of identical olive uniforms. in the corner, a chair, littered with the scraps of fresh human hair. her head throbs with indescribable pain. a tilt backwards and a brush of her hand lets claire know that, despite everything, her ponytail is still in place. as is the lighter in her breastpocket -- her brother’s, good luck. she takes it into the palm of her hands, enclosed within her fists and held behind her back as the guards force her into uniform. 

more footsteps approach the cell from the adjoining hallway, yet these sound different. and the man who emerges is dressed like no prison guard she has seen thus far, and it doesn’t take much to know he isn’t one. none of these men scare her. she’s already devising her escape plan.

claire sits back in her cell, feet planted firmly onto the ground, back against the wall. each movement he makes, claire watches intently, gaze unwavering. what could he possibly want? not to free her, she’s sure.

[winterswake]

Carlos in RE3 Remake // Claire in RE 2 Remake 

[terrasaving]

like this post if you want me to bother you to plot / and eventually write a starter at some point. if we know eachother you can also like it (or better yet just shoot me a message) and i will just bother you on discord: also bear with me bc i will be slow probably.

[terrasaving]

on claire’s rescue from zabytij island and why, from my perspective, she probably should not have survived:

i’ve wrote about before how, following the destruction of alex wesker’s tower, with little other option, we know that claire jumped from a tower of at least 200 feet -- if not taller -- and would have hit the water with enough force to cause death, likely only surviving by entering the water feet first, which would in turn have caused, what i assume would be comminuted fractures bilaterally on the legs. 

now, assuming she survived this, she has now entered a body of water in the baltic sea -- the month at which claire is imprisoned on zabytij is unspecified, so let’s assume that the water is pretty standard, at 50 degrees fahrenheit. heat from the body transfers much more quickly in water than in air, causing death in about an hour from hypothermia in water of this temperature. in colder water, obviously this will be much faster. but without a flotation device or something to grab onto, hypothermia will not be her cause of death. assuming she does and can pull herself to land, that’s a different story.

let’s assume first that she does not find an object that is buoyant enough to grab onto: now, with bilateral fractures on the legs, therefore losing her lower body strength, claire would enter the water and likely begin to panic -- in doing so, two problems occur: a.) oxygen is used up much more quickly, expediting the time it takes until she falls unconscious, and b.) water may enter the airway, at which point it is either swallowed or coughed up, leading to more water that will be aspirated -- most of the water at this point goes to the stomach, due to laryngospasm, in which the airway is sealed to prevent water from entering the lungs. however, this also makes it harder to breathe -- once the patient falls unconscious, laryngospasm either relaxes and water can freely enter the lungs, or, less commonly, it may remain sealed, leading to what we call a “dry drowning”. regardless of what occurs, respiratory arrest will inevitably lead to cardiac arrest -- typically, drowning victims either read as PEA (pulseless electrical activity) or asystole (no electrical activity) meaning the rhythm is Not shockable by the AED (only v-tach and v-fib are shockable). therefore treatment for these victims involves early action and detection cardiopulmonary resuscitation, beginning with compressions and CPPV (continuous positive pressure ventilations, typically by bag valve mask). the airway should be secured, suctioned, and maintained. the prognosis, at this point, is very poor: a cardiac arrest in general has about a 10% chance of survival -- and then you have to factor in recovery from return of spontaneous circulation (ROSC). the brain can only survive about six minutes without oxygen, meaning that, realistically, there was very little time for claire to get help -- and that’s somehow made worse by the fact that this island took barry six months to find on his own -- how the hell did claire get rescued from the water?? especially when the island wasn’t known to anyone? the inconsistencies of capcom make no sense to me, but that’s another story i won’t get into.

one more note: let’s say that claire goes into cardiac arrest, or has severe bradycardia -- epinephrine is oftentimes used to help improve ROSC. but wait a minute: she is infected with t-phobos, this would undoubtedly kill her instantly anyway.

now let’s assume that by some miracle claire finds a piece of debris that fell from the tower, or a rock or some other object that can be used as a flotation device to get herself out of the water or at least preventing the risk of drowning -- not entirely unfeasible, given the way things were falling out of that tower. but now we have to worry about hypothermia, and claire has roughly an hour to pull herself to dry land and rewarm. do i think this is impossible? no, especially not if you have working legs, but with the traumatic injuries she sustained, i think it would be incredibly difficult -- i cannot imagine that the tower is that far from the shore, so thankfully she likely would not have to swim far if this were the case. if she makes it to land, there are a number of other issues: the first being the secondary traumatic injuries sustained (i.e. the fractures), and worse, the development of the life-threatening compartment syndrome from these fractures. she is also now completely defenseless, with (probably) no weapons, unable to walk, and potentially surrounded by hostile afflicted depending on where she pulls herself to shore. if she did manage to survive everything else until this point, it seems unlikely that this would be a good outlook for her. in addition, she needs to get in contact with someone for medical help, but how is she to contact anyone? 

in other words, what i meant to say in a more concise way is that her survival was dependent on a few key factors: a.) if she was able to find something to grab onto and b.) if she could get to land -- and if she couldn’t grab onto something, if she managed to avoid drowning and subsequent respiratory and cardiac arrest, and of course the speed at which she was responded to by medical personnel. somehow, in the game, they magically must have come extremely fast (despite the fact that barry couldn’t find the island but whatever)

[terrasaving]

 THE LIBRARY PAINTING IN RESIDENT EVIL 2

though there are a number of paintings in resident evil 2 (as well as the remake, which added a handful more) that i’ll probably delve into at some point, one of the ones that was instantly recognizable to me (and that was changed in the remake) was this one above the bookshelves in the library, which is a near-replication/ close inspiration taken from no existing painting, but rather a bas-relief sculpture -- la marseillaise / départ des volontaires de 1792 by françois rude (1836), which can be found on the arc de triomphe in paris, france. as you can see the two works are nearly identical, with the only changes being the positioning of the marianne’s right arm, as well as the volunteers beneath her, as well as what she holds in her left arm in the resident evil 2 version. with the exception of these changes, capcom appears to have directly referenced the marianne as she appears in rude’s work below (for comparison).

la marseillaise ( or, in english, the departure of the volunteers of 1792), is rude’s most famous work and is well known across the world; it depicts a group of volunteers led by a female warrior -- le génie de la guerre (genuis of war) that defended the french republic from austro-prussian forces during the battle of valmy in 1792. similar to delacroix’s la liberté guidant le peuple (liberty leading the people) the centralized female figure rallies the men to battle, and has long stood as a symbol of liberty and the french republic -- this female figure is often referred to as the marianne, and has appeared on many other sculptures and on former french currency. in this sculpture, le génie de la guerre wears a phrygian cap, another symbol of liberty. the alternate title of the work, la marseillaise, is also the title of the french national anthem, which was first conceived around this time ( named as such in 1795). the woman in this sculpture has become so synonymous with liberty and freedom that her face was smashed in an act of protest by the gilets jaunes.

a closer look at resident evil 2′s marianne shows her again with the head.

in the remake, interestingly enough this painting was changed to one i wasn’t able to identify to a real world painting (if anyone knows, please let me know!!) but i’ll link it below.

it seems to depict a similar theme. however, rather than lady liberty, the female figure depicted appears to be lady justice, in which she points a sword at the scales (not wielding the sword in preparation for battle as the marianne does). therefore, the image of liberty (or a painting inspired by a representation of liberty) that was found in the original was swapped in the remake for a depiction of justice.

[terrasaving]

STEVE:

alexia:

plotted interlude for @psthuman @terrasaving @shinylugers

it takes mere seconds for the forests to go up in flames, deafening and echoing in the valley, tall bamboo stalks turning to brittle ash as the smoke forms into an oppressive layer trapped by the canopy. the water of the waimoku falls turns to pitch black tar as the debris lands, polluted with her toxic offspring that scurry and buzz away the from the woman stood in the centre of it. she watches them and steve both run from her, silk dress turned magenta in the light, as the leash makes them struggle forward. their innate desire to run from her and towards her.

alexia closes her eyes and breathes it all in, the chittering of insects a cacophony that only delights her senses as she focuses, breathes, listens.

they are here. they are coming. 

she see’s the valkyrie in red, so much older. the bright blue of her eyes now dulled and tainted by exhaustion. the woman beside her is not whom she expected, grey hair and scarred skin that speaks of survival - she recognises it from the years worth of information her little soldier ants have collected. a woman just as much of a monster as she is. 

her hands clasp together in excitement - what fun!

slowly, she follows after her child, hands moving as if she’s composing the sound of the wildfire with the grace of a surgeon, pulling the spine out of steve and snapping it into place, elongating his limbs as he tries to keep pace. he can only run so far, so fast, when his very body bends to her will.

it’s time for a reunion.

nothing but animal instinct, a raw panic drawn together with the very puppet strings that splinter his bones apart and boil the blood inside of the boy. he wants to get to claire before the fire does, before alexia does – before he loses sight of everything and before the final bell tolls to ring in their grandiose reunion. it was anything but THAT.

‘i have to get to her. i have to warn her.’

thorns, underbrush, upturned roots cut and carve through his clothing as his body turns bloody under the painstaking manifestation of bones too big for his frail human form. no mortal should be able to contain this; but they – alexia’s children, they were more than that. this was a land of gods and monsters, clambering through the jungle to collect blood that was due for decades in the name of the ashfords.

each step is excruciating, boots stomping through the terrain evolve into something more. heavier with the crack of marrow, the grotesque widen of his form while blood seeps from the split flesh and call to the chorus of veronica’s song. steve knows he’s running out of time, half manic and maddened already with fear.

trees crash from the canopies, falling over just before the wildfires can spread to them. the knight turned dragon, reigning through the screaming jungle as animals scatter and the plant matter bathed with the virus’ blessing turn over easier passage.

he sees red, can feel the pulse hammering through his skull; don’t – please, just let me warn her.

tie her broken promise to a string and dangle it amidst the smoke -- claire’s broken heart is so easily manipulated. down on her hands and knees, chasing ghosts, nine words lost in a jungle engulfed by flames. willing to burn alive for even a shred of hope that he lives.

heavy footsteps approach, quick in their pace. if she closes her eyes, she hears the snap of wood, of trees and roots beneath a heavier frame, nearing closer, faster, too fast, too frantic to belong to alexia. jill’s hand is released, and instead claire only motions for her to stop moving, palm outstretched, right arm crossed in front of her.  a familiar rhythm that has plagued her for years.

steve. and she, the valkyrie, chooser of the slain, too late.

in his veins, veronica has already begun its spread, and claire doesn’t know if she can extinguish it. it twists and it moulds, freeing bones that are no longer human from their confinement in flesh, which splits violently, bleeding where it can no longer stretch across its new frame.  in horror, she watches a reflection of the first time she lost him fifteen years ago, the first time she stared, helpless, as veronica ravaged his body. he had begged her to help, unable to breathe, crushed by the weight of a new body that had doubled in size. she had been forced to run. 

not this time. she’s leaving with him this time.

the massive grief she feels is indescribable. it’s wound around her throat, choking her and robbing her of the words she's waited so long to say to him -- of how badly she’s missed him, how much she’s sorry, that she loves him, she’s here  -- claire opens her lips to speak, but all that her lungs produce are sobs, with streams of tears that spill from her eyes and pour down her cheeks. just like the last time he saw her.

arms outstretched, she tries to run to him -- it’s instinctive, it’s all she’s wanted for years and more -- not caring anymore about the flames, the smoke, or even the fate that awaited her at the end of the jungle. trap or no trap, she’s found him. and she’s unwilling to stand back helplessly and lose him again.

[terrasaving]

traumatic injuries sustained from the rockfort island/antarctic base incidents.

INTEGUMENTARY lacerations of varying severity across the body. mechanism of injury (MOI) likely from plane crash and sharp debris. wounds were not properly cleaned or sterilized, manifesting signs and symptoms of bacterial infection. 

contusions of varying severity across the legs, arms, and abdomen. MOI likely one or more of the following: a fall (from the second floor of the military training facility, for example), a MVA (motor vehicle accident -- see below), direct impact from a powerful, forceful shove -- i.e. perhaps from the T-078.

2nd and 3rd degree (partial and full thickness) burns across the lower arms and clavicle. MOI is entrapment near/beside flames or inside a burning vehicle (see below.) BSA (Burn Surface Area) ~10%

MUSCULOSKELETAL AND NEUROLOGICAL

claire sustained a number of musculoskeletal injuries, most resulting from the high energy throw and subsequent rollover of the snowmobile she was traveling in, in which she was unrestrained. it is possible that the snow, which provided somewhat of a cushion of at least a few feet’s height, prevented this accident from being fatal as it should have been -- ejection from the vehicle through windshield or window was likely given the force exerted by the alexia pod and given claire’s unrestraint / no seat belt.

in addition to this MVA, claire’s plane also crash landed through a wall in the antarctic base -- she was likely also unrestrained given that we see her and steve on the floor of the plane after the crash (and not wearing any form of restraint in the previous scenes), something that, depending on the speed of the plane at which it collided with the ground and the wall of the base, would have inflicted serious (if not fatal) injuries on both herself and steve.

( claire and steve are unrestrained )

( claire and steve are once again unrestrained after a major accident )

( height of the throw, pre rollover and combustion ) thus we can assume: - traumatic brain injury (TBI) of some sort. to emerge from either of these -- especially both -- with only a concussion (a form of mild, closed-head injury TBI) would be lucky, i think. - extremity fractures. likely tib/fib and/or radial/ulnar, especially between not one, but two high impact, unrestrained vehicular accidents. likely comminuted fractures. - upper body fractures, again depending on the speed of the plane upon making contact with the ground. - spinal injuries. - as mentioned above, many lacerations across the body. hemorrhage (bleeding).

[terrasaving]

#me fighting w/ myself not to rename ur URL to MY PLUMP LITTLE LAB RAT so linsday can give me that $10

[terrasaving]

TERRASAVE

terrasave is a non-governmental human rights agency that deals primarily with bioterrorism and pharmaceutical incidents, providing aid to those impacted by an outbreak, medication and test distribution, supplies, research, and also physical deployment of terrasave operatives to assist in the event of an outbreak (claire’s role is this). likely with its roots as a small nonprofit in its early days, terrasave was formed in the late nineties in response to the destruction of raccoon city and the subsequent cover-up of what had happened by the government and big-pharma, which valued their profits over the innocent lives lost.

claire would join terrasave shortly after her return from rockfort island and antarctica, and would become one of the members most instrumental in growing the organization and its visibility.

in 2011, terrasave director neil fisher sold out the organization in an effort to obtain a sample of the uroboros virus and revive the f.b.c ; in doing so, he agreed to give alex wesker ten of his employees who experienced a number of traumatic events and would therefore be more likely desensitized to fear -- of the terrasave employees chosen, only claire redfield and new employee moira burton survived.

known members: claire redfield, operative (1999 - present) neil fisher, director ( ?? -- 2011 ) gina foley, human resources ( 2004 -- 2011) pedro fernandez, operative/mechanical engineer ( ?? -- 2011) gabriel chavez operative and mechanic ( ?? -- 2011) moira burton, member ( 2011 -- present ) edward thompson, member ( ?? -- 2011) inéz diaco, operative ( ?? -- 2014) marilou mabou, member ( 2014 -- present) curtis miller, activist, former employee ( ?? -- 2005) rani’s aunt, name unknown, member ( ?? --  present)

known incidents where terrasave was present/affiliated with:

terragrigia panic (2004) neil fisher and gina foley are known to have responded here -- natalia korda was orphaned as a result of this incident

wilpharma/harvardville incident (2005) present terrasave operatives included claire redfield, curtis miller (perpetrator, former employee), and rani’s aunt, whose name is unknown.

kijuju (2009) gabriel chavez and pedro fernandez are known to have responded here

zabytij island (2011) ten terrasave operatives, including neil fisher himself, were handed over to alex wesker and injected with t-phobos -- moira burton, claire redfield, gina foley, pedro fernandez, gabriel chavez, edward thompson, and three others whose names are unknown.

sonido de tortuga island (2014) deployed operatives included claire redfield and inéz diaco.

[terrasaving]

im thinking about how claire survived that jump from the tower at the end of revelations 2…. like let’s assume that the height of the tower itself is around anywhere from 400-600 feet, the average height of a skyscraper (but could be even more or less), and we know that she has already descended a few levels before jumping it’s kind of a myth that falling into water from a fall can save your life – at high heights, water does not really compress upon impact and can act in a similar way to falling onto concrete. even cliff dives over 60 feet are prohibited and advised against because of the injuries that can be sustained from a fall into water at this height. a jump from, let’s just say 200 feet or possibly more would result in severe injury or even death if claire entered the water in any position other than feet first. given the height of fall, she would not have reached terminal velocity, but probably would have hit the water at a speed of at least 40 m/s (just from a rough calculation). that’s about 90 mph after about 5 seconds of falling – at a 300 foot fall. at a 200 foot fall, that’s a speed of impact of like 76mph, and at a 100 foot fall, it’s still about 54mph. regardless of the height at which she jumped (we don’t really know), she would’ve sustained serious injuries, probably shattered legs, but probably only survived by entering the water feet first. other factors that increase survival of a jump into water is the depth of the water, and the condition of the water (with tall waves breaking the height of the fall) but ignoring all impact based injuries, just watching the scene where she jumps there were a number of risks that couldve killed her before that did – firstly there’s a ton of rocks and falling debris, and then there’s the risk of drowning even if she survived the fall with broken bones. tl;dr when she was finally rescued she was probably in horrible shape.