#it wasn't great in Hopes either but she at least had enough clarity in her mind and was free of TWS in Zaharas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

legaciestold · 3 months

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rp drabble thread lead-in to the prismya incident setting: july 2nd, 2006 | time on clock: 13:02 pertains to storyline with @everythingheard (leon) *this post is part of an rp verse and should not be reblogged by anyone not in the verse. likes are okay.

maybe it was some asinine mixture of pride, stubbornness, and rebellion. denial of reality, really. that leaves the blackberry screen lingering open in her hand. it's been months. MONTHS. and it strikes claire that it's the longest leon and her have gone without some form of communication in years even if at times all the communication they'd had was a 'are you alive' or 'sherry like'd that parrot postcard you sent her last month' email with the hopes of a response once whatever the other was doing was completed.

oh, they had busy lives and even though they'd spent the better part of the last eight years technically residing in the same geographical region that hadn't meant they were having sunday dinner's together with sherry across the table from them and top gear playing on the television in the background because claire had splurged for an international package on satellite cable since sherry couldn't do a lot of things other teenagers did.

sure, that'd happened a few times and yes, there were times they'd visited and stayed up talking for hours like they did in those days after raccoon too (though now days it was a lot more censored) but that wasn't the common convention their quasi-relationship had held for all these years.

relationship.

she wasn't quite sure what to call what her and leon shared. there was a time she could recall with vivid clarity his touch to her shoulder as they prepared to climb a fence in the middle of the desert to infiltrate an umbrella facility in utah when it'd stuck her that maybe something was there and that maybe they both wanted there to be. but that hadn't been the time to think on it and the hopes and dreams of the world they were still holding onto at the time had shifted drastically since then. they'd made the most of it and strangely enough, if claire allowed herself to think too hard on it, she had to admit they'd managed to raise a child together. again not conventionally and technically claire had been a single-parent of sherry since the government had set things up for them (but that wasn't all that was to that, was it claire?) but some part of her refused to accept all the credit for such. even if leon wasn't there for the day-to-day of it, his presence was always felt in both her and sherry's lives in some form and claire knew that sherry had come to see leon as a fatherly figure just as much as she saw claire as a mother.

it wasn't an absent parent situation as there had been no expectation of involvement to begin with but it was just.. an unconventional dynamic they'd all accepted and fallen into. it worked through sherry's teenage years and her eighteenth birthday party and it'd worked until a few months ago too.

it worked until it hadn't, at least where claire and leon were concerned. claire knew for a fact sherry and him still had contact (even if sherry was now an adult they still lived in the same home) and sherry had no reservations in her attempts to fix whatever had been broken.

and there it was... maybe it was pride-- the fact that claire had allowed the email to live in her drafts in the week since she'd written it. claire had come to understand a great many things since the events which had played out at the aquarium in new york that had brought her into the ranks of the bprd. come to various realizations that made complete sense in hindsight. she'd either been an idiot or hadn't wanted to accept the weight such things would place on her at the time had she acknowledged them. maybe that made her a coward. claire guesses, maybe she was, at least in relation to this. because to have let herself acknowledge that he'd made the choices he had in order to protect not just sherry but her as well, to let them have relative freedom and choice, meant that she had to accept that it came at the price of his own freedom. and further, that she was part of the very thing that'd made her so upset standing in front of that gate months earlier when she'd turned away from him. she was part of what placed him on his path; the path where reality was so much more complicated then the hopes they'd held on that small charter plane that maybe, just maybe a few missions could result in the information they needed to take down umbrella and expose them to the world so they'd all be able to go back to the lives they'd originally planned for.

the youngest redfield wasn't naïve and they all certainly hadn't been able to follow those dreams, them all still in the middle of a greater fight, but maybe some part of claire had attempted to hold onto that idealism for her own sanity and the moment her gray-blue eyes met his refusal to hand over the chip marked that final break from it. it marked everything they'd lost of themselves in the eight years since raccoon. it meant, even if she hadn't realized it until recently, that she was partly to blame for taking that away from him too. and that, that was why she'd been so upset as reality crashed in around her just like it had in that cell at rockfort as the ground had shaken. (funny how it was thoughts of leon then and thoughts of him now that had always brought her back to reality.) it was why even when her life had taken such a drastic turn in recent months leon had no idea about it. it's why the email had lingered in her drafts for a week when she could have sent it and met him days before and now it was too late before she had to leave for her mission.

she puts the phone aside for a few minutes and conducts the final checks of her supplies, converses with a few other agents who'd be going with her, and finally turns around to move through the corridor. but claire stops for a moment, pulls the blackberry back out and opens the drafts folder of her email. she deletes part of it to update it to the moment before sending it off into the internet ether.

subject: remember when you tried to give me a half a sweater because the desert was cold?

half a sweater because he'd apparently had to rip part of it off from spitter venom and apparently john andrews had worn it around his face for a bit too. but she'd been so cold in that god-forsaken utah desert with rebecca shot and the adrenaline from seeing that monster unleashed as they'd escaped had worn off. it felt as if it was freezing and her and leon had been grinning at each other like two idiots despite their injuries. and she'd been so cold she felt like she'd die on the spot. it'd been the only thing he could offer her at the time. this email kind of felt like that. the only thing she could offer him in the expanse of what the last few months of no contact had been. cold. disconnected. a desert. but this was hope in spite of it.

'we need to talk. fix this. i understand.. i have more clarity lately about a lot of choices we've both made. i'm not saying we aren't going to keep disagreeing about certain things. well, about a lot of things. but, we've been through too much not to move on from it. i think we need to finally acknowledge some hard truths. it's a start and i think we've both been avoiding it in our own ways. there's something i need to tell you about too. though, you're going to have to suck it up and deal with it even if i know you won't be happy about it. i've got to go out of town for a few days. lets meet at that hole in the wall pizza place in georgetown when i get back, yeah? i'll message you. sincerely, i'm still better at riding a bike than you, claire

placing the blackberry back into her tactical jacket, claire meets the other agents to head to the airport.

claire does not return in a few days. of course she could have been busy and that could surely be why she's not sent anymore emails. it seems almost confirmed by the fact that sherry believes claire's work caused her to still be out of the country for a little longer than planned too.

except, all the agents which had gone with claire to europe were DEAD and claire wasn't anywhere she wanted to be anymore than she was always lucid either. was this the nightmare those people felt that'd left those notes she'd found at the police station all that time ago?

#muse; claire redfield #v; bprd: biohazard timeline #drabbles; claire redfield #everythingheard

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lepusrufus · 3 years

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To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x maiden #momma esteria #mother miranda #fanfic #tw: gore #to bargain for immortality #in which nicole gets way too familiar with miranda's petty side

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