[Complete] Child!Wesker, Kurama
Who: Child!Wesker, Kurama
When: Fifteen minutes after this
Where: Shu-Ra's offices.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Injuries, blood.
Summary: Kurama's turn to -watch- Wesker.
(
The smell of burnt paper and wood still hovered in the office )
When: Fifteen minutes after this
Where: Shu-Ra's offices.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Injuries, blood.
Summary: Kurama's turn to -watch- Wesker.
(
The smell of burnt paper and wood still hovered in the office )
The wrapper was carefully set aside, Wesker pushing himself to his feet. He swayed there for a moment before righting himself and dropping the trash into the little can. The six year old child finally looked up to Kurama, clasping his hands in front of him to still them.
A vicious looking cut ran from the right cornre of his mouth back to his cheekbone, most likely caused by one of the bladed spikes of Axel's weapon. Blood still trickled from it, spotting his shirt although it looked as if the worst of it had closed. Small black dots covered the left side of his body, stains of blood between them all. As Wesker stood there, a tiny ball was pushed out of one, landing on the floor with a small wet plunk. Buckshot from a shotgun.
A few burns were still scattered across his visible skin. A small patch on his nose was healing rapidly, the minor burn pinkening and then taking back on the paleness of the rest of his skin.
"Doctor," he replied quietly, the word barely whispered. The only sign of worry or pain that he would give was his fingers laced together before him.
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The constant hunger confirmed Birkin's words, the body demanded massive amounts of energy to mend itself. The energy source...
That must vanish.
But he could read in the child hints of pain, secretly disguised, suppressed behind the silent adult façade. "How are you feeling?" He inquired as he dropped in one knee before the child, taking a closer look to the wounds. The metallic scent of blood was present in the air, injuries which were still fresh.
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"Feeling, Doctor?"
The question seemed to honestly confuse him. He blinked at the other man, either the pain distracting him or the simple oddness of the situation he had awoken to, breaking through that shield he kept between himself and the rest of the world. It wasn't the best of emotions to show or the most logical given the circumstances, but it was what he displayed.
"I don't understand the question. What is the answer you want?"
The light went out of his eyes. It could have been that there was enough illumination as it was or that he was exhausting himself keeping those cells active.
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But it was unfair. Though Wesker never fought fairly. Honor, morals, all had been lost for an ultimate goal. Tomorrow at this time the fire of his life would be a mere ember, not dead, not alive. The child's face reflected in his iced gaze. "This incident was a test, and you were successful."
The whole deceit was extremely accurate, each action justifying a purpose. So it would be that small yet crucial trick. Tomorrow would be a morning without dawn for Kurama.
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Wesker moved away from Kurama again, snatching up another bar and using his teeth to rip through the wrapper. That bit was spat aside, the food beneath torn into hungrily. He faced away from the redhead, the line of his cheek drawn together new with an ugly line of twisted scar tissue where it had been seeping blood and torn before. He was healing far slower than Logan would have at least.
"I feel... wrong. Like I want to injure someone or harm them. I do not know why."
A ragged edge of anger tainted his usually calm voice. Colour was in his cheeks, the child's breathing deeper than he had been before. His thin lips had lifted some, a gleam of teeth seen as if he were an animal about to bite.
"I feel like I need to destroy. Like I have to bring... something down. I don't know why."
That flicker came again, the adult Wesker standing there before Kurama. Buckshot felt to the floor as if someone had dropped a handful of BBs. The man's gaze was still locked on the floor, the last bite of the energy bar held in his now gloved hand. Instead of the Umbrella hospital pyjamas, he was in his usual black suit, shoes polished and dark glasses over his eyes. And then he was a child again, a child that was trying to control the urging of the T-virus which dictated increased aggression. He was successful on the whole. Little wonder that all others who were injected with the T-virus became horrible monsters in the end, little more than mutated lumps of flesh.
He returned quickly to stand in front of Kurama as he gulped down the last of his bar.
"I passed? Is that good, Doctor? I did well?"
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Everything could be lost at any moment.
He could feel how his blood froze inside his veins, like mercury flowing slowly. A cold bead of sweat ran down his temple, the tension thawed when child regained his form. Seemingly oblivious to what had happened.
Kurama swallowed with difficulties and glanced at him again, slowly rising to his feet. "It is one of the effects of characteristic of Tyrants. Their desire for violence and destruction.
I can help the natural healing of your body with certain herbal balms so as to compare results.
You must need topical anesthetic as well."
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