legionworld | Didya catch that trick?

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Didya catch that trick?

The swear-in ceremony had been a little bittersweet, if Lena was being honest with herself. Even with the recall out to the other Overwatch agents, not many of them had answered -- international affairs, coupled with the PETRAS act tying their hands and the bitterness stewing in how swiftly they had all been shut down meant the risk was too great. The Second Omnic Crisis was being contained in Russia for the moment -- until it threatened the interest of other countries (and it would, if history had anything to say about it), something like the ceremony she had just walked away from would never have been possible.

Home would need her back eventually -- but for now, it was easy to remember that there were others closer that needed her help right now.

She doesn't draw as many looks on Legion World; part of her is glad for it. Aside from the fact that she was so distinctly recognizable as one of the world's heroes at home, those who hadn't kept up with all the pomp and circumstance usually took a second look at the chronal accelerator. To be somewhere where she almost blends is a surreal feeling, but it means she's smiling all the way up to the wall of screens as she consults them for information. The interface is easy enough to read, but more importantly, she feels the need to introduce herself to everyone in the room.

A few people walk up to her on their own, but every now and then, she'll slide into a space that's not too personal, but that can't be ignored either, and offer a question in her chipper cockney accent:

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

Observation Deck

She had been a lot of places all over the world, but space -- that was a different story. There was no need for Overwatch agents out there, not when the omniums down below were causing the world so many problems just a few years prior. So Lena is naturally drawn to the deck, eyes wide behind her goggles when she gets a full view of all the stars.

There had been a few places in the world where she could see them as clearly as she could now. King's Row wasn't one of them. She feels like she's twelve again, one hand curled around the ring slotted on her finger. It had taken her a few tries to figure it out, but she was flying again. Sometimes, she had forgotten how much she had missed it. Freefalling through the chronal acceleration Winston had given her came close -- but this was different.

"Wicked."

The echo of footsteps draws her attention back to the catwalk, and when she turns, she has all the appearance of a child who's just been given their haul of Christmas Gifts.

"You alright down there, love?"

Habitat Deck/King's Row

Its easy to get lost in a deck full of multiple pocket areas to explore. Every now and then, a flash of blue will appear and disappear as Lena makes her way across the deck, excitedly dipping into wherever she can managed to fit herself. Its addicting, seeing new things -- and some re-imaginations of places she is certain she should recognize.

It takes her a few tries, but Tracer eventually figures out that just walking into the biomes of others might be a bit rude. When that moment comes, she returns to where she had started: King's Row. Her old stomping grounds, as she often used to say. Without Overwatch, she'd found herself spending a lot of time there, trying to help who she could without getting into too much vigilantism. The fact of the matter was that law enforcement couldn't catch her if they'd tried, but that didn't mean she wanted to ruffle too many feathers. England was still her home country; she'd never aim to upset them on purpose.

She finds a familiar balcony, above the entrance to the Alderworth Hotel, and parks herself there. Its strange, seeing it so empty, and she suddenly finds herself feeling homesick.

When Valor Day comes, she spends at least half of her morning making sure her space fits the part. Today, she is slower to greet anyone who happens to find their way to her. In record time, she's managed to do most of her own decorating in the form of wreathes on various doors and garland strung across the briefing room where she's set up her cot temporarily. She can be found blinking around in brief flashes of blue in order to get to higher and higher places to hang her decorations.

Dangerous, with all the snow and ice around? Probably.

Wildcard

[OOC: Got something else in mind? Different location, or a spin off of one of the other prompts? Go for it! Tracer is extremely friendly, and will want to walk up and introduce herself to everyone without much prompting. If you're not sure, feel free to hit me up at stabs]

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Some of what Sombra says encourages another laugh from her. Recognition and adoration was nice, but she didn't need it -- saying that much seems a little narcissistic though, so she doesn't. It'd been a long time since anyone really appreciated her special brand of meddling.

Instead, she focuses on Sombra's mistake with the ornaments, and tries not to giggle again.

"Here--easier if you hang 'em on these," Lena replies, jumping down with another blink to scoop up a set of lights, which she then proceeds to wrap just as she had done with the ribbon. "Have at it, love."

"Can't I just throw up some holograms and call it a day?"

It's a joke tinged with well-hidden sincerity. You're making this super involved, Tracer.

Still the ornament's picked up, tucked away in her arm before she scoots around to the other side of the lamppost, intermittently hanging them wherever seems appropriate to her eyes. When she's done, she dusts off her fingers, flexing glowing blue nails.

"Holograms? That's your story, is it?"

Lena leaves her to her duty of hanging ornaments, spending her time fussing with electricity in order to get power to the lights she had just hung. When she picks up her head again, she finds the work done, and offers the other woman a grin as she steps up beside her.

"That's the ticket."

Bring it in, Sombra. There's a fistbump waiting with your name on it.

....Lena.

As a response to her question, Sombra cants her head just slightly, gesturing towards the strips of blue that paint a line across her cheeks. A stand in for all the telltale circuitry she's already made an effort to hide owing to its familiar patterning. Tadaa.

A sly confidence that dissipates only a second later when she's offered the opportunity of a fistbump. There's a mild scoff let out from under her own breath, mouth pinched upwards at the corner. "Okay, amiga, you win. It's not all bad."

If preening wouldn't be completely impolite, she might have done something a little more external to show how pleased with her self she is. Instead:

"Well, amiga don't leave me hangin'," Tracer replies playfully, throwing her fist at the other woman's shoulder and purposefully missing in an attempt to get her attention. Her pronunciation of "amiga" is incredibly terrible. She can't imagine why anyone would resist a fistbump, so she offers the other woman a sly little wink. "Don't worry, I won't tell nobody."

Her eyes flick upwards in the slow start of an affectionate eye roll— half a second later she's tapped her knuckles against Lena's own, a solid sign of solidarity.

"Thanks." And look at that, she doesn't even criticize your atrocious Spanish. "After all, I've got a reputation to keep. You know how it is, right?"

Her attention turns back towards the ornaments, clinking her nails softly against the side of one and listening to it jingle gently in response. A little angel. Almost looks hand painted.

Tracer looks positively delighted by such a small gesture, and simply shrugs at Sombra's assertion. She'll stow the information in the back of her mind, but Sombra's reputation isn't exactly a priority of hers even if she mostly likes her at the present. She also notices her messing with the little ornament.

"Real thing's better than a hologram, yeah?" Lena chirps, picking up one colorful glass bauble. "I got plenty, if you need 'em."

Some holograms were cool -- but maybe it's because she was a ghost, that she prefers solid and tangible things.

"Nah." Her nail gently scrapes the side of the ornament, eyes half-lidded. Funny to think how they'd been at odds no more than a few weeks ago— only to wind up here, with Lena offering to share her own possessions.

She'd had to steal them from her before.

"My place doesn't look half as good as yours, vata. It'd be a waste."

Not to mention the fact that she'd never want Tracer herself to ever actually come near where she's living. Obvious reasons.

"Could help with that too. But...maybe another day," Lena replies, hanging the bauble just above the angel Sombra finds herself messing with. Even with all of her enthusiasm, she knows when her assistance and hospitality isn't wanted. She shoves the box aside and leans against their newly decorated masterpiece. "You know. If you're interested. Or, you know, I got plenty of space here m'self. Reckon I'll keep it like this for a bit. Not every day you get to mess about with snow!"

Do you want to build a snowman, Sombra?

"I—"

No, is the answer she'd normally give, the one she's tempted to spit out now, though it never actually clears her internal kneejerk response. While Sombra isn't as dour as either of her squadmates, she has a soft limit to what kind of mischief she prefers. Mostly productive or purely malicious. There's a patient little exhale instead, shoulders lifting in a shrug that's a stand-in for a verbal agreement. "Why the hell not?"

If indulging her means more familiarity, more open opportunities for conversation, it'd be a waste not to.

"Where I'm from we never had snow like this - I'll follow your lead."

No snow at all? She supposes that makes sense, even if she considers it a tragedy. But with that in mind, it makes Lena's decision of how to follow up that much easier.

"Suit yourself," Tracer quips, turning her back on Sombra to face another waist-high ledge near the Alderwood. If Sombra isn't quick enough, she'll be pelted in the chest with a fistful of snow. She's not quite mischievous enough to aim for anything else.

"Think fast!"

Sombra does think fast. In fact, she makes a habit of thinking about as fast as humanly possible, even with external— and partly internal— modifications.

That said, there's nothing in the back of her logical mind that has her prepared for getting smacked at near-to-point-blank range in the chest by a snowball.

It's weathered with a choked-off little noise in the back of her throat, stuck blinking with her shoulders raised high and stiff while what's left of the snowball sloughs slowly off her coat. Ugh. Sure, she can be childish at times. There's nothing in the world more satisfying than a good prank (or a convenient power shut down) but this? Does she look six years old?

No. No, she looks like she's trying to make friends with Lena Oxton, and if she wants this to work...

It's not exactly a clean throw, but tactically it's a sound move when Sombra leans back, dropping a forearm to the ledge at her side and sweeping the entire accumulation of snow forward towards Tracer's position, using it as cover to duck behind the wall and start packing away a couple of snowball ammo shots.

~~No rocks; she isn't Mei~~

Edited (autocorrect don't fight me) 2016-12-24 01:27 (UTC)

"Oooh, so close!"

Lena's giggling is mischievous and contagious. She takes about half of the snow shoved at her before she blinks away in a flash of blue to hide behind the statue of Mondatta, where she begins to roll her own army of snowballs as fast as her gloved hands will allow her.

Armed with one, she slowly lurks around the corner to see if she can spot Sombra in order to get the jump on her with her snowball. She won't employ the accelerator again -- that would be cheating.

How kind.

Unfortunately for Tracer, Sombra isn't so wholly invested in playing by the rules: by the time Tracer's finished hand rolling her weaponry and slunk around the side, her adversary's already masked her positioning with thermoptic camouflage.

And when she pauses, even for a second, that's when Sombra decides to decloak and strike.

Lena blinks curiously for a moment, eyes narrowing when she doesn't spot Sombra. Just as she's reminding herself that, yes, she's in a legion of superheroes and this woman probably has something of her own to help her get around quickly, she's struck in the back of the head with a snowball.

Unsurprisingly, she makes a yelping sound ("Oi!") and stumbles just a bit as she tries to rapid-turn and throw before Sombra has a chance to get away from her.

"Come back here!"

The laughter it prompts is sincere, if not short-lived when Sombra's forced to quickly duck to one side to avoid taking a snowball right to the face.

"Gonna have to catch me first, mija." It's more for fun than practicality, activating her flight ring. But then again, it's not as though she can translocate with Lena right there in front of her— she'd know in a heartbeat the kind of tech that keeps her anchored to time and space and whatever else she cares about. Hovering a few feet off the ground is the next best option for mobility.

Kicking off (and leaving little snowy tracks drifting downwards in her wake) Sombra flits upwards a few feet to try and gain a tactically sound height advantage, pelting attempts made along the way.

"Oh, that's how you wanna play, is it?"

Well, if Sombra is going to resort to super-tricks, then Lena isn't about to play fair. Her mischievous nature is easily coaxed when the other woman takes to the air, and she blinks away from her next few attempts to hit her. Somewhere in between, she returns to her snow pile to retrieve ammo.

Its a combination of acrobatics and translocation that gets her to the height Sombra has found using buildings alone as a mechanism, taking shots as often as balance will allow for.

"Why would I ever want to play this any way else?" Said while shaking off the dust of a direct hit like a lion shrugging dirt from its mane, chuckling softly in spite of herself. Another beat spent bluffing her next throw (waiting, waiting for that flicker of blue light) to anticipate Tracer's route before she lets lose with her next shot.

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Didya catch that trick?

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