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

[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.