president_evil (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
president_evil) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-02-04 07:28 am
president_evil) wrote in thecapitol2014-02-04 07:28 am
Entry tags:
Don't be ashamed, the body has needs.
WHO| Wesker and OTA
WHAT| Dinner and a show.
WHERE| The Training Center Restaurant.
WHEN| Week 3ish
Warning/Notes| It's Wesker, consider yourself warned.
He didn't need it. Not traditionally speaking. The virus was a perfect, internal engine, humming in his veins. The chains of sleep, thirst, and hunger all but broken. (All but.) The Capitol even saw to his more - unconventional needs.
But it was a habit Wesker still occasionally enjoyed. The tactile experience of it - the taste and the smell. The weight of the knife in his hand, the thrust and tear. The color, a bright splash of red against a pale golden plate.
A feast for his senses, if not his body.
Seated at the best table, away from the central flow of traffic where he was less likely to be disturbed, he dined. Cutting into a steak so rare it wept a puddle of ruby as he cut into it. Bleeding out in time to the screams coming from the monitor set into the walls.
The Games, as ever, never far away.
WHAT| Dinner and a show.
WHERE| The Training Center Restaurant.
WHEN| Week 3ish
Warning/Notes| It's Wesker, consider yourself warned.
He didn't need it. Not traditionally speaking. The virus was a perfect, internal engine, humming in his veins. The chains of sleep, thirst, and hunger all but broken. (All but.) The Capitol even saw to his more - unconventional needs.
But it was a habit Wesker still occasionally enjoyed. The tactile experience of it - the taste and the smell. The weight of the knife in his hand, the thrust and tear. The color, a bright splash of red against a pale golden plate.
A feast for his senses, if not his body.
Seated at the best table, away from the central flow of traffic where he was less likely to be disturbed, he dined. Cutting into a steak so rare it wept a puddle of ruby as he cut into it. Bleeding out in time to the screams coming from the monitor set into the walls.
The Games, as ever, never far away.
no subject
The Roman, he decided then, might actually be more entertaining that Redfield ever was.
"At the end of the day, we'll have to just wait and see."
no subject
He refused to think about what would happen if Wyatt did not return.
His appetite spoiled, he finished his meal anyway - years in the army had taught him to eat even if he was not hungry. Finally he pushed his plate away and rose.
"Wesker," He said with a tight, dismissive nod.
no subject