going native

[agnominal]

Who| Locus and YOU? Open.
What| Newcomer to the Legion finding his feet.
Where| Wandering around Legion at large. Locations will be notated.
When| /coughs vaguely and gestures randomly
Warnings/Notes| n/a


It was difficult, even now, to part with the armor. He'd born its weight, its visage, its name for years now, rather than his own. If this was truly meant to be a new start, he should start by leaving it behind. He was no longer meant to be simply a weapon, a gun, but a warrior earning worthiness.

But some habits are difficult to break. He's not ready to show his face. Not yet.

So, on the initial walkthrough of what is expected to be home base for some time, Locus does so in full armor. It does much to ease his sense of discomfort in finding himself in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by strangers, alone. But the way that helmet turns to side-eye people who pass speak volumes about that unease, even if his expression isn't visible.

It's easy enough to find himself on a self-guided path. Past crew quarters, through the mess hall, past the training room and holodeck, before halting briefly on the observation deck for a time. This, at least, feels familiar. The vast emptiness of the black void, dotted with cold, distant lights, and the looming shape of a planet beneath that would be satisfied to drag them down to its surface in a fiery heap.

So he's in a cheerful mood, in other words. Surely not too intimidating a figure to be spoken to.

Comments

[vata]

Armor, then. Even better.

"You don't look like most of the others here, soldado." As far as she can tell, the Legion assumes a little spandex is all anyone could ever need. It's not entirely out of place, in her experience, but the old Crusaders certainly made it look like the kind of thing that'd keep you safe when everything else went to shit.

Given his response, he sounds like he operates under a similar train of thought.

"That make you a knight or something?"

[agnominal]

"Hardly."

A knight would value honor, whereas Locus knew he had none. He had been a soldier, a bounty hunter, a mercenary. He'd done a number of reprehensible things not because it was right or just, or the cause was noble, but because he had been ordered to. The romantic image of knighthood hardly stood side-by-side with that.

And the girl is still following him. He'd walk faster to shake her, but he had the feeling she'd only speed up to keep pace, if only to continue pestering him.

Unfortunate.

[vata]

If he wanted her gone, he should have given her any answer but that. Paragons, bastions of nobility filled to the brim with good intentions, those are the kind of people she could do without - at least in the long run: something always goes wrong, they lose heart, their 'mettle', whatever you want to call it. If the world's proven anything for as long as she's been a part of it, it's that the pure of heart just aren't designed to do more than burn bright and then burn out.

"So then what's with the patrol?"

Spoiler alert, Locus: she's been watching you for a while.

[agnominal]

Wonderful. Well it's hard to imagine he wouldn't be under some kind of subservience. Those who chose him must have some understand of who they brought on board their station to fight in their war. It would be foolish to give these powers to just anyone.

It's still irksome to be reminded of that fact.

"If this is where we are meant to stay, better to know the terrain. It's not impossible that the battles we fight may one day find their way here, and it would be foolish not to take advantage of that fact."

Now for the real question, as he finally cocks his head to look her direction. "Why does it concern you?"

[vata]

As he shifts his gaze to look at her, she takes the opportunity to fix her own straight ahead; it's a mirror to the route currently taken, to his posturing, possibly even his purpose.

"Because I'm doing the same thing." Said simply, inconsequentially.

Mostly because for once, she's telling the truth.

[agnominal]

"Then you're not a fool. Congratulations."

At which point he returns his gaze ahead, down the corridor they're currently walking. If she's telling the truth, she simply wants to know the mettle of those she'll be fighting alongside.

That's not so unreasonable a goal.

[vata]

"Gracias." Does she sound humble about that fact? Probably not.

"I'm guessing you just got signed in too, right?" She lifts a hand, curling glowing nails against her palm to idly scratch an itch stuck beneath the surface of her gloves. As far as Sombra can tell, anyone focused on the priorities wouldn't put off mapping local terrain for last. If he has friends, they're not showing him the ropes.

Either they trust him, or he's alone.

[agnominal]

Very astute observation, Sombra.

In fact, that should be so obvious that he's not even going to respond. It's a rhetorical question, no time wasting breath on an answer. He wastes nothing if he can, least of all words.

"The facilities here are impressive, compared to standard military equipment at least." Which says as much or as little as you care for it to, depending on your view of the military complex as a whole. It gives as much information as it asks.

If she's not a fool, he sees no need to speak to her like one.

[vata]

"It's a whole freakin' planet, soldado. I'm pretty sure that fits impressive no matter where you're from." A joke, and a mild one at that, punctuated by one coy sideeye as her arms fold neatly across her chest.

By now they're passing a lengthy, illustrative mural— floor to ceiling, an intricate mixture of colors— mostly abstract, but she imagines (like so much else in this place) it's meant to inspire. "Me? I never thought I'd see anything close to the stars in person. At least not outside of a screensaver."

Get it?

No, he probably doesn't.

[agnominal]

Hm. That says something about where she's from, that that should be such a marvel to her. But he says nothing in response, and sure enough, she confirms what he'd suspected in her very next breath.

Yes. He gets it just fine. Even if he chooses not to remark on it.

"I see. Never left your home planet, then." He's regarding her very carefully now.

[vata]

"And you did." A point of conversation, there's so much to be gleaned from what he's experienced, what he's seen: through him, she could know an existence that— until now— was realized only in fiction.

It doesn't belittle the firsthand process of acclimating to the Legion, but just like her, he's a fragment of somewhere else. Something different.

She loves that.

Sombra stops pacing, turning on her heel to fully face him in a legitimate introduction - clawed hand outstretched. "Azúcar."

[agnominal]

She could know of his world, certainly. But she might regret that choice once she had the breadth of it. One planet had conflict and destruction enough for anyone. Spread across dozens, hundreds? It seemed as vast and unchanging as those stars.

What does change is who you encounter along the way. When she spins into his path he halts, and if she can't see the crook of his eyebrow, his tone might very well give it away.

"Really?"

he's going to be so disappointed when he finds out her real name

[vata]

It might, but the problem with lying about everything is that thoughts can often gravitate to the safest conclusions, not the correct ones.

"What?" Is the answer that slips out of her mouth, hand still hovering there, only crooking up just slightly as she glances downwards to give herself a once-over. She was thorough, she changed her name— her appearance— long before the Legion set her loose, and Gabriel would never let anything slip; it means her conversational partner can't be criticizing the validity of her alias.

Still, there's a tinge of tightness in her chest, slowing her breathing. Adrenaline and uncertainty in that small, small moment. The thrill of a plan already gone potentially wrong by a 0.01% margin.

"Is there something on my face?"

[agnominal]

"Sugar. You name is Sugar."

It's as deadpan as he can manage. He's heard some strange hero names, but that one? Probably takes the cake as the most unintimidating. Something a child might come up with.

But perhaps that's the point. She's proven she's no fool. An attempt to hide just how competent she is, perhaps?

[vata]

A pinchpoint slackening along her spine - relief, and then her mouth turns upwards into a grin that's all sharp and cutting, like a predator flashing teeth meant to kill.

"You understand me."

And for a moment her eyes flick up to squint at the sloping angles of his helmet. There could be a translation device hidden away in there, the Legion seemed quick enough to provide all kinds of tools for the intergalactically challenged, after all. But if not...

Another beat and she adds, like the slow start of an inside joke: "¿me entiendes?"

[agnominal]

"Yes. I understand you."

In perfect, unaccented English. He understood just fine, had grown up with the language at home, as well as the expectation of learning to fit in and not give anyone reason to look at him twice.

But if Sombra was looking to slip any jokes past him unnoticed, that prospect just went flying out the window.

[vata]

Sometimes, she underestimates people. You could say it started with Los Muertos: that being raised by a group so confident in its mission to both save Mexico and simultaneously turn a profit into their criminal pocket meant that as she grew, she had no one— nothing— tempered to look up to, but the truth is, she never had that to begin with. Sombra was only ever dependent on Sombra.

Which means it's easy to forget that sometimes someone else is smart enough to step to that.

"Okay, so let's start again." Sombra slips out of his way, arms folded behind her back. "Me llamo Sugar— no te metas conmigo." The syllables are slow, mild as a joke and clearly meant to be.

"¿Cómo te llamas?"

[agnominal]

It's still a ridiculous name. But he'll let her be on the matter. They all have a reason for choosing the names they do, the masks they wear. Speaking of which...

"Locus." Offered up without any preamble. It is what it is, the name of his armor and the thus the name he associates himself with. Even if he's moving past the idea of simply being a gun, a tool in someone else's struggle, it's not an identity easily shuffled off.

The man under the suit? Had died a hard death. Locus would not go easily, either.

[vata]

Now it's her turn to squint, head canting off to one side. "...like the bug?"

It's not her fault you've got a filter acting as a wall between yourself and the world, Locus.

[agnominal]

"The armor designation." Which likely means nothing to her, not being from his world. He sighs quietly, before giving in and elaborating further. "Or, a set of all points that fulfill a given requirement."

Not the insect, thank you.

[vata]

How very efficient in its symbolism. Like him, she suspects.

Somewhere inside her head, the gears are turning. A steady rhythm she's always been so keenly attuned to: opportunity, intelligence, something sharper than a general skillset. The kind of friends you can't buy for a dime a dozen.

"So, Locus," Sombra lets out a thoughtful breath, eyes flicking off in a quick scan of their surroundings, though it's played off as casually as anything. "What do you really think about all this? The idea that everyone can be a hero for a better cause."

[agnominal]

As if they were speaking of the weather. What do you think of the rain? Locus falls quiet for a time. Again, he's not one to waste words, and he's mistrustful by nature. Even more so now.

In the end, he tells her what he would tell anyone, without flinching or coaching the words in something more forgiving or idealistic.

"There are no heroes in war. And that is what this is. War. Even for something as simple as survival. If it eases their conscience to call it what they do, that's their concern."

[vata]

"Sometimes it eases consciences, sometimes it keeps other people from looking too closely." A gamble on her part, being so honest, but...she liked his answer, for what it's worth, and as far as she can tell he isn't big on talking to begin with.

Besides, where's the fun in being careful to the letter?

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see which truth this place was built around." Initial survey taken and satisfied, she shrugs, camouflage flickering to life and masking her silhouette with lines of rapidly fading violet code. The man she's looking for is out there somewhere, and she did promise not to waste too much time. "Adiós, soldado. I'm sure we'll meet again."

[agnominal]

He pauses just long enough to observe her vanishing act. A little flashy, but from what he'd seen? Not surprising. It seemed to suit her.

Somehow, he'd doubted he'd seen the last of her.

With a mild shake of his head, Locus continues down the hall. At least there was some small comfort to be had in knowing there were some who might be worthy of allying with, in the days to come.

As to Legion's real role and purpose? As she'd said. They'd have to wait and see.