Muse

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A bit of research-based fiction with some Capcom characters (I even checked the weather and the old calendars). Blood type personalities have also been considered for this piece of writing.

It’s not action-packed, but more about daily life (between games and CGI movies). They are depicted as humans, after all.

The characters belong to Capcom. I am following the canon storyline.

other fiction with these characters, in order: 1. Interim, 2. Muse and 3. Daily Downtime.

MUSE: (noun) a person whom is a source of [usually creative] inspiration; (verb) to contemplate, to daydream, to be absorbed in thought.

Consider how tough butterflies have to be. They need to deal with wind, rain and eventually a migration – if they can escape predators.

Also, if military personnel can receive care packages from family, then why not Leon.

Washington DC

Past Halloween; early November 2004

A waning gibbous moon was in the skies, visible around 9 at night until it set before midnight. A waning gibbous (also referred to as a disseminating) moon, according to old lunar wisdom, was for introspection.

The high for that day had been a pleasant 71℉ and the low was 52℉.

The fall colors locally had it’s own vibrant display. There was still greenery throughout. For the fiery panoramic view, people would have to travel a bit more eastward.

^_^    -» -» -» -» -» -» -» -» -»

Leon was standing on his apartment balcony, watching as the remnants of five o’clock traffic moved by, crawling into half past six o’clock. He was done with his shift, but still in his work clothes; dark suit, white shirt – currently minus a tie, and a dark blue, wind resistant jacket. In his subconscious, the line of red tail lights and yellow headlights transformed into the swirls of swallowtail butterflies in flight. The butterflies were on a long red dress, worn by a beautiful, slender woman.

It had been over a couple of months since he rescued Ashley and got her home safe. He had gone through the usual rounds of needed medical care post mission. The switchblade had gone deep, but it was a necessary defense on Ada’s part. His gaze on the traffic wavered. To his own ears in recollection, his apology to her at the time seemed weak.

He took a sip of the warm chai. It had been part of a recently received care package from family. It wasn’t his usual coffee or water, but it wasn’t too bad.

The young woman had gone to some stores for an early dose of the winter holiday atmosphere. Although there were autumn decorations up, Halloween was replaced by early Christmas and a generous smattering of Thanksgiving items. 

A knowing smile was on Ashley’s face when they passed a window display of mannequins in holiday formal wear. There was a mannequin in black sequinned mini dress and another in something red, slinky and form skimming (10th photo down, first one of Carole Lombard). On either side of them were male mannequin in tuxedos.

“Have you heard from the pretty lady?” The young woman had asked almost nonchalantly.

Leon sighed inwardly. “No I haven’t.” He kept the answer short but courteous. He briefly imagined Ada in that clingy red gown, then casually looked away. Leon had felt his face warm; that faint, telltale tingle before he flushed red. He was on duty and had to remain professional, after all. The images of Ada would show up in his dreams.

“That’s too bad.”

He had noted Ashley didn’t sound too regretful. But then, she was also dressed a little nicer – just to go shopping. The two hour long trip ended up with Leon carrying several large bags for her. Another guard took over for Leon when Ashley got back from the shopping spree.

 

Leon walked slowly back into his apartment, finishing up the spiced tea. Ada and he had paths that ran parallel for now. There would be a time that they would encounter one another again. It was inevitable that they cross paths with their jobs. He thought back to the song he’d heard in a tavern in 2003. He had been waiting for his to-go dinner.

Ada’s tone of voice had been warm towards him when they were face to face again. If actions spoke louder than words, then her helping him numerous times was quite a discourse. Whatever she had said to him while she was laying wounded on the small bed, or the times she’d tried to get him to leave without her, hadn’t been lies nor deception. He could sense that, even if he was a rookie at the time. She’d also confessed# to him of what her purpose was (as well as her emotions) in Raccoon City was before losing conscious. Her “death”.

Ada’s seeming death was Leon’s motive for seeing Umbrella’s downfall, originally*. After running into each other again recently, some perspectives changed. She was still the reason he fought, even though they were on opposite ends.**

Three time zones behind…

The high for that day was 66℉ and the low was 50℉.

In a beach side house on a rise in an exclusive neighborhood…

The woman known as Ada Wong sat cross legged on a cushion in the meditation alcove, dark eyes looking slightly down and to the side as she turned inward to listen to her body. In her lap, a wine colored throw was draped.

The black tunic was made from a high grade cotton, lustrous Pima cotton, grown in the southwest. It was semi-fitted to follow the female form, but not tightly. The sleeves were long enough to cover her fingertips, but the horseshoe cuff ends had been folded up to allow her hands movement. She had come across the tunic during an outdoors artisan show and bought it.

A little metallic red embroidered butterfly sat on the mandarin collar of the mid thigh length garment. A column of large, decorative hook and eye closures were placed vertically down along the front. The sides had hip high slits and she wore dark, slim lounge pants underneath.

Every month, a woman’s body let her know in review what had gone on and what was being detoxed. An acupuncturist specializing in female health had informed her a long time ago, that if the days leading up to the menses was stressful in any way, the pain and discomfort would be present.

A few nights ago, she had dreamed she was back on the plaga sample mission. Somehow, she had completely lost her thigh holster. Leon had his hands around her and was choking her unconscious while Saddler hovered nearby, chuckling, encouraging the parasite to do its job. The spy shrugged it off. The woman behind the spy had vague discomfort about it. She knew Leon wouldn’t harm her purposely, though.

But just earlier that morning, the dream had been different. Leon was dressed in civilian clothing and so was she. They were walking slowly hand in hand in what appeared to be an enclosed botanical garden. A butterfly landed on the side of her head and clung there, gently opening and closing it’s wings like a living hair ornament.

A sudden, sharp, internal scraping sensation caused her to gasp and flinch, disrupting the pleasant recollection. She made a mental note to add some dried ginger to her dinner to get the lower body energies flowing.

Having to deal with powerful, dangerous people was not an easy task. She knew her duties and didn’t like to be hastened along or reminded of how to perform them.** The woman known as Ada Wong knew how much discipline went into the role of being the ‘perfect’ spy.

Ada placed her hands in a familiar energy medicine position on her body and breathed, paying attention to the rhythms and changes within. She rose from the cushion after a while with the intent of making fresh, golden milk to sip while she decided on what to make for an early dinner. It was preferable to have a boost of chlorophyll to help with the detoxing and to prevent calcium loss.

She hesitated by the folding screens, her thoughts momentarily tangled on Leon. Their first interactions had caused shifts in her. She was feeling a range of emotions again; some of them were uncomfortable as there was a sense of not being safe for her to feel them. It had been better, in a way, being emotionally distant. But she was human first and the spy second. The woman known as Ada Wong was attracted to Leon. Still.

Late afternoon light filtered in from the bay windows. The sunshine caught at the large intricate swallowtail butterfly wings across her back. Clever machine embroidery had traced them out in glittery black, like a Monarch’s markings, but with the extra decorations on the lower wings. Various hues of vibrant red thread work filled in the rest of the wings on the back of the tunic.

She walked into the hallway and towards the redwood steps, remembering song lyrics she’d heard at a cafe just a couple of years ago.

<–Interim…… or …… Daily Downtime—>

= = = = = = = = = = = = = ^_^

#Resident Evil Archives I.

*Resident Evil Archives II

**Bio hazard 4 Kaitai shinsho

** did anyone else notice the glare or annoyed looks she gave the communication device after Wesker hung up? They were in the cutscenes.

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