06-27-2018, 10:01 PM
It would be the worth of several days' journey from Darkshire to the area where Silent Hill supposedly stood. 'Supposedly', in this case, because the directions he'd acquired were woefully imprecise and outdated. Filled with old memories and thoughts of the place being unnatural, shrouded in a fog that would never leave, and the town not being there anymore, even if its structure was. There wasn't anything natural left there, and it was best left forgotten.
With how fragmented and blurred any recollections of the place had been in the man's head, it seemed he'd been trying to do exactly that, and forget the place. Aside from where it was, and what his business had once been there, it was all a vague ghost in his mind. A tourist resort town, at once point. Many names he knew and which dredged up old thoughts in the mind of the Umbrella executive.
Oswell E. Spencer, of course. James Marcus. William Birkin. Billy Coen.
All individuals he knew, either personally or by name. Or...individuals he had known. There were all long since dead or lost to the world, where he had come from. One of them dead at his own hands. To hear that name return from his past, as if taunting him, along with all the others...others he had all had a hand in ruining or destroying...
It wasn't quite worrying, but it was unnerving. It unsettled him enough to put a crack in his very carefully maintained composure, and spur him on to go investigate personally. All of the major residents of the town had vanished without a trace, it was said, when the town was lost to the fog. Rumors of all sorts of abhorrent actions, demonic rituals and sacrifices, working with the undead in both a scientific and magical way. Drugs and medicines of a type he was familiar with, absurd magic and voodoo rituals, satanic and other such religious babble and drivel. There were rumors and whispers of it all associated with the place, providing many reasons why the town had gone quiet and been abandoned.
...but not why its inhabitants had disappeared. Many had been primes, he gathered. Supposedly immortal and able to return from death. For them to have simple all have been slaughtered was a possibility, but it wouldn't explain their long-term disappearance. A puzzle, to be sure, and one which gave him no small measure of things to consider. Albert Wesker never did anything without a plan, never walked into something without at least a clear picture of what he was going to do. It was his policy to always have some understanding of what he was getting himself into.
It was a longstanding part of his plans he had been forced to set aside, just this once. His mind burned too feverishly with questions and worry which demanded answers and soothing for him to take his usual calm, methodical approach. He could wait it out, further dig around and dredge up answers from here and there. Find others who had been part of the town, or had something to do with it, and dig up facts and tidbits of information that way. It would take time, but it was all but a certainty that he could find someone who knew what he was after, or at least enough of it to answer the most burning questions and ease his mind, make his eventual trip to the town itself that much easier to plan for and deal with.
He knew that, but it didn't make it easier. It only made it harder. Time would just give his unease time to fester and spread further cracks in his calm facade and collected persona. He had to remain the dignified, unflappable businessman and diplomat. Maintaining such a role wasn't an easy thing, sometimes; this situation only proved as much.
"If you keep thinking so intently, you're going to wind up going gray even sooner." The smirk was evident in the words. Xehanort, seated in the seat opposite him, was eyeing him with a smug, amused look on his weathered features.
Wesker lightly shifted in his seat, adjusting his posture to lean slightly more to his other side. "Mmm...my apologies. I've just got quite a lot to think about." Not a complete untruth, for once; his mind was racing with things he had to consider. Facts and could-bes; maybes and might-not-bes. Worries and concerns, and assurances and discrepancies. What could and might go wrong; what was sure to go right and what couldn't afford not to. It was enough that his mind had little room for anything else.
"This appointment of yours must be quite important, if it has you so frazzled and frantic," the old man noted. He sat calmly there in his seat, fingers laced together and resting on an upraised knee. His age and feeble appearance did nothing to diminish the impossibly proud posture and bearing he kept himself with. Aged like an oak tree; bent and shriveling, but still undeniably sturdy and robust. There was every likelihood that Wesker could have pulled the pistol from his shoulder holster and shot the grinning old man right between the eyes, and it would scarcely phase him. "How much further is this trip of yours supposed to be? You were more than a little vague about where it was all headed."
Wesker brought up a hand to pull off his glasses. He slowly turned them over in his hands for a moment before speaking. "...the exact distance eludes me."
The admittance of cluelessness caught Xehanort off guard, triggering a mild scowl to flit across his weather-beaten face. "You are traveling to a place you don't even know the location of?" His eyes were wide, and he shook his head. His beard swayed under a silent chuckle. "And they said foolishness would abate with age...clearly you have more years yet to gather before that holds true."
"I did not say I have no clue where I am going," Wesker corrected. He folded the arms of his shades together, and slid the folded glasses into a pocket of his coat. "A town by the name of Silent Hill. Supposedly lost in a cloud of fog that rolled in off the lake one day many years ago and never dissipated." He let his arms slowly lower down, resting on the rests to either side of his seat. "There are rumors of many...interesting occurrences in the town prior to those events. Several individuals which were tied to my past before arriving to the Omniverse are mentioned among the town's founding and its rise to prominence."
This earned a slight upcurl of one eyebrow from the dark-skinned elder. He leaned forward in his seat, shifting to let his propped up leg slide off his knee and back to the floor with a light thud of his boot. "So it's sentimentality, then?" He peered intently, eyes flicking to and fro over the face of his travel partner. "How...quaint."
Albert Wesker just let the corner of his mouth lightly rise, the barest hint of a smirk. "Sentimentality?" There was a chuckle, hidden in that word. "No...nothing so moral as that. Curiosity." He leaned back, resting his head against the cushioned rest. "They were responsible for much, in my old life. They did a great deal of research, and some of them founded the company I worked for and rose to prominence and success in." He closed his eyes momentarily.
Spencer and Marcus...they had founded Umbrella. Manipulated the world, and so many countless families. Twisted and raised dozens of children, all for the sake of one old man's dreams and delusions of godhood. Then the likes of Birkin...had just been another pawn. A brilliant researcher, but a coward and a fool. Some small shred of pity yet lingered, even in the heart of a man like Albert Wesker. Birkin could have been a valuable asset, had he survived. The improvements he might have been able to make to the G-Virus, had he been allowed to continue his work...or even if all of his original research notes and samples had been recovered, it would have added years, perhaps even decades worth of work to what would need to be unraveled and pieced together later.
"...I simply wish to discover what became of them, in this world," he finally continued. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up straight again. "If they have survived all this time, then perhaps they may have some value again." He lifted his arms, spreading them to either side, palms up. "If they are alive, and yet still trapped somewhere within the town...then they simply wait to be saved, and delivered from its confines. Doing so would no doubt be quite the boon to the reputation of anyone seeking to garner praise." He curled one hand into a fist, the leather of his glove squeaking under the strain. "And if they are gone...then there is sure to be some trace of their work left behind. Along with traces of whatever happened to them. Finding out that much, even..." His other hand curled into a matching fist, the squealing of leather evident again. "...would be a boon all on its own."
Xehanort studied the other man for a long, silent minute. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain continued to pound down on the roof and windows in the still moment. Finally, the old man let his face split in an amused smile. A chuckle rolled up from within him, rising swiftly into a hearty, amused laugh. His hands came down to rest on his knees, supporting himself as he gave into his mirth and merriment for a moment. When he finally straightened up again, there was an amused grin playing at his face, showing just the tiniest hint of bared teeth. "So, then...you have nothing to lose from this venture of yours, and quite a bit to gain regardless of its outcome."
Wesker let his hands slowly lower, resting them back on the armrests of the chair. "Precisely." He gave a brief chuckle. "I always have some kind of plan...even if it is one I have to form en route to the site where it will be carried out."
Xehanort lazily leaned back in his seat, bringing an elbow up to perch on the armrest, and his chin lighting on the upturned knuckles of the same hand. "On the matter of that...you still have not said how long the trip there will be."
"Patience, Xehanort...I know where it is. Several days travel, on foot, at a steady forced march." Wesker lifted one hand to lightly tap at his forehead. "I know the location, and distance...but not the intervening terrain. Whether that march was a straight line, or one which followed roads and paths, I cannot say. It could take us half that time, or twice that time."
"Hmph." Xehanort rolled his eyes. "At least you know how to travel in luxury, I suppose..."
With how fragmented and blurred any recollections of the place had been in the man's head, it seemed he'd been trying to do exactly that, and forget the place. Aside from where it was, and what his business had once been there, it was all a vague ghost in his mind. A tourist resort town, at once point. Many names he knew and which dredged up old thoughts in the mind of the Umbrella executive.
Oswell E. Spencer, of course. James Marcus. William Birkin. Billy Coen.
All individuals he knew, either personally or by name. Or...individuals he had known. There were all long since dead or lost to the world, where he had come from. One of them dead at his own hands. To hear that name return from his past, as if taunting him, along with all the others...others he had all had a hand in ruining or destroying...
It wasn't quite worrying, but it was unnerving. It unsettled him enough to put a crack in his very carefully maintained composure, and spur him on to go investigate personally. All of the major residents of the town had vanished without a trace, it was said, when the town was lost to the fog. Rumors of all sorts of abhorrent actions, demonic rituals and sacrifices, working with the undead in both a scientific and magical way. Drugs and medicines of a type he was familiar with, absurd magic and voodoo rituals, satanic and other such religious babble and drivel. There were rumors and whispers of it all associated with the place, providing many reasons why the town had gone quiet and been abandoned.
...but not why its inhabitants had disappeared. Many had been primes, he gathered. Supposedly immortal and able to return from death. For them to have simple all have been slaughtered was a possibility, but it wouldn't explain their long-term disappearance. A puzzle, to be sure, and one which gave him no small measure of things to consider. Albert Wesker never did anything without a plan, never walked into something without at least a clear picture of what he was going to do. It was his policy to always have some understanding of what he was getting himself into.
It was a longstanding part of his plans he had been forced to set aside, just this once. His mind burned too feverishly with questions and worry which demanded answers and soothing for him to take his usual calm, methodical approach. He could wait it out, further dig around and dredge up answers from here and there. Find others who had been part of the town, or had something to do with it, and dig up facts and tidbits of information that way. It would take time, but it was all but a certainty that he could find someone who knew what he was after, or at least enough of it to answer the most burning questions and ease his mind, make his eventual trip to the town itself that much easier to plan for and deal with.
He knew that, but it didn't make it easier. It only made it harder. Time would just give his unease time to fester and spread further cracks in his calm facade and collected persona. He had to remain the dignified, unflappable businessman and diplomat. Maintaining such a role wasn't an easy thing, sometimes; this situation only proved as much.
"If you keep thinking so intently, you're going to wind up going gray even sooner." The smirk was evident in the words. Xehanort, seated in the seat opposite him, was eyeing him with a smug, amused look on his weathered features.
Wesker lightly shifted in his seat, adjusting his posture to lean slightly more to his other side. "Mmm...my apologies. I've just got quite a lot to think about." Not a complete untruth, for once; his mind was racing with things he had to consider. Facts and could-bes; maybes and might-not-bes. Worries and concerns, and assurances and discrepancies. What could and might go wrong; what was sure to go right and what couldn't afford not to. It was enough that his mind had little room for anything else.
"This appointment of yours must be quite important, if it has you so frazzled and frantic," the old man noted. He sat calmly there in his seat, fingers laced together and resting on an upraised knee. His age and feeble appearance did nothing to diminish the impossibly proud posture and bearing he kept himself with. Aged like an oak tree; bent and shriveling, but still undeniably sturdy and robust. There was every likelihood that Wesker could have pulled the pistol from his shoulder holster and shot the grinning old man right between the eyes, and it would scarcely phase him. "How much further is this trip of yours supposed to be? You were more than a little vague about where it was all headed."
Wesker brought up a hand to pull off his glasses. He slowly turned them over in his hands for a moment before speaking. "...the exact distance eludes me."
The admittance of cluelessness caught Xehanort off guard, triggering a mild scowl to flit across his weather-beaten face. "You are traveling to a place you don't even know the location of?" His eyes were wide, and he shook his head. His beard swayed under a silent chuckle. "And they said foolishness would abate with age...clearly you have more years yet to gather before that holds true."
"I did not say I have no clue where I am going," Wesker corrected. He folded the arms of his shades together, and slid the folded glasses into a pocket of his coat. "A town by the name of Silent Hill. Supposedly lost in a cloud of fog that rolled in off the lake one day many years ago and never dissipated." He let his arms slowly lower down, resting on the rests to either side of his seat. "There are rumors of many...interesting occurrences in the town prior to those events. Several individuals which were tied to my past before arriving to the Omniverse are mentioned among the town's founding and its rise to prominence."
This earned a slight upcurl of one eyebrow from the dark-skinned elder. He leaned forward in his seat, shifting to let his propped up leg slide off his knee and back to the floor with a light thud of his boot. "So it's sentimentality, then?" He peered intently, eyes flicking to and fro over the face of his travel partner. "How...quaint."
Albert Wesker just let the corner of his mouth lightly rise, the barest hint of a smirk. "Sentimentality?" There was a chuckle, hidden in that word. "No...nothing so moral as that. Curiosity." He leaned back, resting his head against the cushioned rest. "They were responsible for much, in my old life. They did a great deal of research, and some of them founded the company I worked for and rose to prominence and success in." He closed his eyes momentarily.
Spencer and Marcus...they had founded Umbrella. Manipulated the world, and so many countless families. Twisted and raised dozens of children, all for the sake of one old man's dreams and delusions of godhood. Then the likes of Birkin...had just been another pawn. A brilliant researcher, but a coward and a fool. Some small shred of pity yet lingered, even in the heart of a man like Albert Wesker. Birkin could have been a valuable asset, had he survived. The improvements he might have been able to make to the G-Virus, had he been allowed to continue his work...or even if all of his original research notes and samples had been recovered, it would have added years, perhaps even decades worth of work to what would need to be unraveled and pieced together later.
"...I simply wish to discover what became of them, in this world," he finally continued. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up straight again. "If they have survived all this time, then perhaps they may have some value again." He lifted his arms, spreading them to either side, palms up. "If they are alive, and yet still trapped somewhere within the town...then they simply wait to be saved, and delivered from its confines. Doing so would no doubt be quite the boon to the reputation of anyone seeking to garner praise." He curled one hand into a fist, the leather of his glove squeaking under the strain. "And if they are gone...then there is sure to be some trace of their work left behind. Along with traces of whatever happened to them. Finding out that much, even..." His other hand curled into a matching fist, the squealing of leather evident again. "...would be a boon all on its own."
Xehanort studied the other man for a long, silent minute. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain continued to pound down on the roof and windows in the still moment. Finally, the old man let his face split in an amused smile. A chuckle rolled up from within him, rising swiftly into a hearty, amused laugh. His hands came down to rest on his knees, supporting himself as he gave into his mirth and merriment for a moment. When he finally straightened up again, there was an amused grin playing at his face, showing just the tiniest hint of bared teeth. "So, then...you have nothing to lose from this venture of yours, and quite a bit to gain regardless of its outcome."
Wesker let his hands slowly lower, resting them back on the armrests of the chair. "Precisely." He gave a brief chuckle. "I always have some kind of plan...even if it is one I have to form en route to the site where it will be carried out."
Xehanort lazily leaned back in his seat, bringing an elbow up to perch on the armrest, and his chin lighting on the upturned knuckles of the same hand. "On the matter of that...you still have not said how long the trip there will be."
"Patience, Xehanort...I know where it is. Several days travel, on foot, at a steady forced march." Wesker lifted one hand to lightly tap at his forehead. "I know the location, and distance...but not the intervening terrain. Whether that march was a straight line, or one which followed roads and paths, I cannot say. It could take us half that time, or twice that time."
"Hmph." Xehanort rolled his eyes. "At least you know how to travel in luxury, I suppose..."
Quote:Post Word Count: 1,834 // Total Word Count: 3,029
Post Character Count: 10,287 // Total Character Count: 17,074
"Hold on a second, I have a call..."
![[Image: blog-Wesker.jpg]](https://cdn.dcdouglas.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/blog-Wesker.jpg)
"Yes, this is Wesker. Go ahead."
"Yes, this is Wesker. Go ahead."