LOCUS (
agnominal) wrote in
legionworld2016-11-29 05:47 pm
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Entry tags:
going native
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.
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.
no subject
There's nothing in that file that he means to keep secret, of course, but it's the way Washington demands, like he's earned any part of it, that sticks in Locus's craw. But then, his choices are limited. He knows that. Washington will attempt to make life here difficult for him if he doesn't cooperate, and Washington is well-established here, if he's telling the truth.
He may not hold rank, but his opinion may sway them all the same. And for some reason he thinks this will bear weight on his testimony.
That doesn't make it easy. It doesn't mean he likes it, that giving in. But it's the mention of the Legion that seals it. He has to prove himself worthy of that title? Fine. One gloved hand lifts, and a second later, the footage from the Communication Temple, beginning with the crash of the Pelican, is forwarded across the comm system.
no subject
...he doesn't know what he was expecting, but what he's gotten is...more, somehow. He thought he'd see the fight, or the tail end of it; the conversation with Santa is more telling, terribly intimate and uncomfortably familiar. He's been there - lost and alone, his world reduced to wreckage and ashes, wondering what he's supposed to do, where he's supposed to go, and in his case trying to puzzle his way through an act of mercy he knew he hadn't deserved.
He'd never committed genocide - his sins had been far more personal, but he'd still gotten a second chance, given to him by the same people he'd done his level best to kill.
Locus has his second chance here, given to him by the whims of an extrademsional entity with a shitty sense of humor, in a place where his past sins don't matter as long as he's willing to work to prevent the future from being destroyed. And he'd made a choice - he had the drop on the Reds and Blues, and he could have killed them where they stood, but-
'No more killing.'
-but he'd cut his leash instead, leaving Felix in the mess he'd made for himself and Wash's team alive.
Wash hates comparing himself to Locus - namely because Locus has been using those comparisons to try to justify some horrific shit, and Wash wants absolutely none of that - but he can't deny that, on some base level, they're similar. War fucked them up, people who were supposed to help them fucked them up even worse, and some days it looks like there's no way out.
The difference is, Wash is further down along his path. He got a second chance, and he made something of it. Locus...
Locus still desperately needs that psych eval that Brainy promised. He still needs to be monitored. But...well, maybe he can make something of his second chance the same way Wash did. He's in the right place and the beginnings of the right mindset for it.
Knowing that, Wash can't take it away from him.
He sighs, hoping that this won't be another mistake to add to the ever-growing pile, and looks at Locus. "Welcome to the Legion."
no subject
That he has the gall isn't surprising. Far from it. It's everything he's come to expect of the man.
But there is some relief in knowing that now, he understands. He's seen for himself what transpired, and knows where Locus stands on the matter. Perhaps now he'll be a little less concerned that Locus is going to turn around and murder all of his comrades just to make some sort of point. What that point is, he couldn't begin to guess, but that had obviously been some sort of concern of his.
There is no victory in this. Only a sense of finality as he turns away, back towards the glass and the vast blackness beyond. This, whatever this is, is going to be the starting point for whoever he decides to become.
He still hasn't the faintest idea who that is. Whatever is left of Locus that can be refashioned and reforged to this new purpose, perhaps.