omake
Who: chet_thanh_pho!Walter, cof_interzone!Walter... will you add here? if so, Fakir (harddays_knight) and Princess Rue (ruesravenblood) as well...
Why: Since this post is relative to both Chet and forestcradle I figured I'd just put it up here...
What: Freed from Sae by Ai, aware of the BZ fogging at the encampment, Walter hears the music meant for his future self, the dance Rue and Fakir are doing for him.
Walter's walking between the worlds.
he knows it, too, knows he's probably dreaming. This happened with Sae, but Sae is gone now. Undone.
Terrible pity. She had been... oh, there weren't enough words to describe the amazing things they had done together. Sex, yes, let's not forget about the sex. He hadn't 'known' many women, preferring to keep himself pure and clean, all the better to prepare himself for the Order's rituals, but he was by far no innocent. Still. The mysterious Asian woman had shown him things he would never have dreamed of asking from Claudia, or any of the college co-eds he had bedded.
Moreso tho, she admired the strength of his arms for other more sinister purposes. Told him how she liked the way he wielded a blade.
Took him places where he could indulge the fantasies he had held in for so long.
In her world the ghosts wailed and the dead bodies trembled in horror at the sound of her footfall. She was like Alessa there, he knew, in the village from which she had come. Feared. Revered.
He liked the idea of having such godlike powers.
But...apparently Sae would have taken that from him, rather than giving it him. Who knew? Apparently he was born of some potential. Of some sort of particular fate. And now?
Nothing would stop him from achieving it.
It felt nice to know he was destined for greatness, anyway.
Walter loved the jungles of VietNam, and he was going to miss them. He still had no idea how he gotten into them, but he had been there awhile now. His survival skills, born of necessity in his time in the water tower, refined in the Silent Hill woods and on the streets of Ashfield, did him proud in the place. The villagers in the nearby market were afraid of him in ways they were no mere American soldier.
They thought he was a ghost.
He knew he was a ghost, at least what passed for a ghost in their superstitions. Still. Walking amongst them he could take what he liked, as they wanted nothing to do with what he had that might pass for payment, believing the village near where he stayed to be haunted, cursed. Surely he too was cursed for touching what was in it, for sleeping within its confines.
In order to not have the same curse befall them they took care of him.
As a result he had learned a little of the language. He picked up languages quickly- had he not written all his diaries in Enochian? and learned the rituals of the Order, though some of them were written in rovásírás.
He knew even as he walked peacefully by, through the people around him that something terrible had happened in the village, and he also knew it would not affect him.
He had other business.
Was that music he heard? It was. Boldly, he walked out of that place, out of that time, towards the music.
It was better to leave this way. He knew his friends were scrambling like ants to enter the tiny tunnels of Củ Chi. But he? Had something to see, plainly.
A dance to dance, perhaps.
---
Why: Since this post is relative to both Chet and forestcradle I figured I'd just put it up here...
What: Freed from Sae by Ai, aware of the BZ fogging at the encampment, Walter hears the music meant for his future self, the dance Rue and Fakir are doing for him.
Walter's walking between the worlds.
he knows it, too, knows he's probably dreaming. This happened with Sae, but Sae is gone now. Undone.
Terrible pity. She had been... oh, there weren't enough words to describe the amazing things they had done together. Sex, yes, let's not forget about the sex. He hadn't 'known' many women, preferring to keep himself pure and clean, all the better to prepare himself for the Order's rituals, but he was by far no innocent. Still. The mysterious Asian woman had shown him things he would never have dreamed of asking from Claudia, or any of the college co-eds he had bedded.
Moreso tho, she admired the strength of his arms for other more sinister purposes. Told him how she liked the way he wielded a blade.
Took him places where he could indulge the fantasies he had held in for so long.
In her world the ghosts wailed and the dead bodies trembled in horror at the sound of her footfall. She was like Alessa there, he knew, in the village from which she had come. Feared. Revered.
He liked the idea of having such godlike powers.
But...apparently Sae would have taken that from him, rather than giving it him. Who knew? Apparently he was born of some potential. Of some sort of particular fate. And now?
Nothing would stop him from achieving it.
It felt nice to know he was destined for greatness, anyway.
Walter loved the jungles of VietNam, and he was going to miss them. He still had no idea how he gotten into them, but he had been there awhile now. His survival skills, born of necessity in his time in the water tower, refined in the Silent Hill woods and on the streets of Ashfield, did him proud in the place. The villagers in the nearby market were afraid of him in ways they were no mere American soldier.
They thought he was a ghost.
He knew he was a ghost, at least what passed for a ghost in their superstitions. Still. Walking amongst them he could take what he liked, as they wanted nothing to do with what he had that might pass for payment, believing the village near where he stayed to be haunted, cursed. Surely he too was cursed for touching what was in it, for sleeping within its confines.
In order to not have the same curse befall them they took care of him.
As a result he had learned a little of the language. He picked up languages quickly- had he not written all his diaries in Enochian? and learned the rituals of the Order, though some of them were written in rovásírás.
He knew even as he walked peacefully by, through the people around him that something terrible had happened in the village, and he also knew it would not affect him.
He had other business.
Was that music he heard? It was. Boldly, he walked out of that place, out of that time, towards the music.
It was better to leave this way. He knew his friends were scrambling like ants to enter the tiny tunnels of Củ Chi. But he? Had something to see, plainly.
A dance to dance, perhaps.
---