#〈 T.L.: 2006 → Forgotten 〉

[agentvalentine]

“I don’t see you as a monster.”

for those who feel like a monster ... sentence starters

Those words, if meant to comfort, only sting. Not that she expects Wesker capable of comfort. That would require sympathy, which would require a heart, which, evidently, he doesn’t possess.

“No, of course you don’t.” It comes out in a scoff. Arms folding against puffed-out chest, a helpless attempt to display strength in the face of the discomfort settling deep in her stomach. “Someone who can’t see the monster in himself can hardly see the monster in others.”

She walks to him with stubborn confidence. Her leg—the leg he treated, is fully healed now. Perhaps she should be thankful he didn’t leave her for dead. But arguably death would have been the true mercy on his end, and not whatever her life has turned into in the past months.

“But you know what?” Jill leans over the desk he’s sitting at, hands flat on the surface, fierce eyes glued to his shades. “Maybe you should. The most vicious monsters tend to wear human skin. You would know about that, wouldn’t you?”

[agentvalentine]

i've got everything under control.

"LET ME HELP YOU" PROMPTS

“Do you, really?” Jill scoffs. “Are you sure about that?” She watches in silence as the door closes behind Excella. Wesker and his routine injections.

It took her a moment to piece it together. At first, Jill thought the injection was a virus. Something he had to repeatedly inject himself with to maintain the same level of strength. That the effects wear off eventually. But through observation alone, watching the way his body seems to attack him every time it starts craving a new injection, she realized it was actually something else entirely. Quite the opposie of what she thought. The injection isn’t a virus. It’s a serum to stop the virus that’s already inside his body from destroying it completely. Destroying him.

“I think it’s a little funny. Your body’s rotting away, and you have to depend on a serum to keep it glued together and functioning. I’m not sure how you can rule a world from the grave. But then again, maybe that’s why you’re trying to destroy the world in the first place.”

[agentvalentine]

@captianwesker | continued.

It’s pointless, trying to escape.

There’s an element of irony to it—given how much time Jill spent trying to find this man. Trying to pinpoint his exact location so she can go there and confront him herself. Put an end to him. That, too, is looking more and more unlikely.

He’s not a human anymore. Death is significantly harder for him. Even though she’d fought creatures double and triple and quadruple his size. She’s so helpless before him. Almost as much as she is hopeless. Not that she’d ever let him see that. It’s only dark glares and snarky remarks and determined, albeit pitiful, attempts to fight him.

Chris doesn’t show up. He never does. Not like in her dreams, where he barges through the door with a whole team and takes her in his arms away from here. Where they’re reunited and he’s holding her face and she’s looking into his eyes and everything is okay. The reality becomes a dream and the dream becomes a reality. Short-lived, but it’s the only taste of peace that she has.

And it’s a dream that can’t become a reality, not any time soon, because Wesker plans on taking them somewhere. Somewhere, she’s certain, where they’re not meant to be found.

She’s walking without the crutch now—limping, still, but at least she’s able to stand on both feet. So she stands there, by the fireplace, watching him with the same grim eyes she’s been looking at him with this whole time.

“Where are we going?” Not because she’s curious about the destination, but because she’s curious about how far they will be from the familiar. Just when she started to get used to the cabin, to get a feeling for what the surrounding perimeters looked like just from peeking out the windows regularly, thinking she might be able to make a run for it. Even with her limp.

Maybe she’ll give it a shot still. Before she has to start over again.