#//decided to use Spencer because he doesn't really remember a lot about your muse!

[shadessupreme]

🕯

[From the meme: Send :candle: and my muse will talk about someone from their past.]

Wesker stared down at the flickering candle in front of him, his fingertips pressed together. He takes in the sounds and smells of the local bar, the soft clinks of shot glasses on well worn tables. The smell of cheap alcohol and cheaper people, in more ways than one. His shades have been removed, placed to the side so nothing hides his cold, icy eyes.

"...Oswald E. Spencer." The name wrings a chuckle from the other's throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows heavily. His teeth briefly grind together as memories flash.

"A cold, ruthless, arrogant bastard with a God complex. So, in essence, everything I am. He lives on in me, every part of him. The good, and quintessential bad. Mostly the bad, but only because there was hardly any good to begin with inside that rotten apple."

He squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers. It's hard not to get caught up in the past, as much as he tries to avoid it.

"He took me from my parents and raised me to be one of his own. A good little mockery of everything he held dear. He was my father figure, and he was pretty bad at it. Like a fox guarding the henhouse."

His hands clenched, fingers interlocking together.

"He did things to me. Things that made me who I am. I don't hate him for what he did. But I won't thank him for the nightmares either."

Is he...shaking? No. Impossible.

But the way his skin crawls doesn't lie. Neither does the sudden watery gaze in his eyes.

"I'm glad I killed him."