I'm waking up to ash and dust

[muroieda]

Who| You! And a fried demolitions expert only known as Junkrat.
What| Junkrat scopes out his new living situation upon Legion World.
Where| Various places around the ship.
When| A few days after Junkrat's arrival
Warnings/Notes| None - yet.

He really doesn't appreciate the fact the he's been brought here against his will, but since the guy that seems responsible is a tad indisposed to making his presence tangible, he'll have to sideline any plans on giving this time-keeper or whatever it is a piece of his mind. The more important part is that he's been offered a job, and Junkrat pretty much took it immediately without giving it much thought. No job too big, no score too small. He was daydreaming and tuned out the fine print and rules - there were always rules - and they always got broken, and it never really mattered because he always got the job done, whether or not that was under the purview of their restrictions or not.

Superpowers and malicious omnipotents and intergalactic peace. Cool. Whatever. When does he get to blow something up?

On second thought, how was he supposed to blow things up in the first place? He's arrived empty-handed except for his clothes and prosthetics, which--on one hand, he's thankful enough for what he still has--but on the other, it's going to be a pain in the ass if he lands himself in a bad situation.

Could be worse. Could always be worse. Besides, this place seems rather...peaceful? There's all sorts of shapes and sizes of people (?) around here, and Junkrat isn't sure if he fits in or stands out. Like any other job, he needs to (a) scope the place out, and (b) gather materials.

A typical day in the life of Junkrat, even if it involves being displaced some thousand years in the future on a space ship. He's always been adaptable.

----- A: ENGINEERING BAY -----

Of course, this is the first place he ends up. Eager mechanics and engineers are glad to share their knowledge with someone who seems expresses an energetic curiosity and interest, asking questions that only someone proficient in the craft would have the initiative to ask. It's all a front, of course - the questions are distractions so that he can pinch whatever material and tools are laying about, free for the taking. Junkrat's just arrived here and he's already breaking the rules, and he figures that he'll stop when his bag gets full...you know, eventually?

Plus, he's learning an awful lot about this machinery all at once. Very fascinating - from where he once stood, all of this was only in theory. Not necessarily something he'd make...but good to know. Just in case.

----- B: MESS HALL -----

When Junkrat heard that he'd have to have a uniform, he figured that it was going to be some lame, stuffy outfit that looked the same as everyone else's. The thought made him gag, and he'd honestly go naked before having to join swaths of monotonously-dressed coworkers.

After seeing the kind of outfits everyone on this ship wears, he's come to realize that he was mistaken. No, they're not all the same, but they're still lame and stuffy - and he's learned that you actually get a say in what it ends up looking like.

He may be stretching the interpretation of "say" in this case.

Instead of working with the clothiers develop something together, he's gathered up a sketchbook and some markers and landed in the mess hall to get to work. The noise and activity might be too much for most people, but the background of controlled chaos helps him think - plus, he gets free food here, which is probably the greatest thing he's found out since wandering this place. While he shovels food of an unknown origin into his mouth, he doodles various design ideas. He's quite good at drawing, even though his notes are written in legible but atrocious handwriting. Those poor Anthramites are going to have a run for their money on this one.

----- C: OBSERVATION DECK -----

There's not much for him here, and yet...

Junkrat leans against the railing, taking in the view in awed and uncharacteristic silence. He's been to so many places, seen so many different things, all on a single planet. And here it is - a whole other planet, ripe for exploration and hyjinx. And this is the only place you could ever get a view like this...well, while still being able to breathe, anyway.

With metal fingers stroking his jaw idly, this quiet moment is probably the first time that the reality of the situation is really starting to dawn on him.

...it's kind of scary, isn't it? Not only has he been thrust into this ship with a responsibility he knows he doesn't fully understand, on some magnitude he can't really conceive - but he's staring out at a planet at a distance that makes it feel like you could reach out and pick it up.

He feels so small.

Comments

[muroieda]

Forget whatever he's working on.

The very second Junkrat hears the familiar and fond noise of a shamisen's chord, his head immediately shoots up, looking for the source of the sound. His doodling can wait, he needs to find...

Not that it ends up being very hard. This kid seems intent on giving a performance. Is this a thing that happens in this place regularly, or is this guy just looking for an audience? Well, he's certainly found it. Junkrat gets out of the booth so he can watch--and with his height, he doesn't need to wrestle his way to the front to get a decent view.

He's not exactly the kind of audience to sit silently to appreciate it, what with his fascinated cooing and delighted giggling, but at least his enjoyment is quite obvious.

[bachido]

He's not the only one voicing enthusiasm in the audience, most of whom are Legionworld employees on meal breaks. A bunch were already in their audience positions by the time Kubo finished setting up. He's been doing this a while, and a number of the audience have started scheduling their meal breaks routinely enough to be regulars.

Still, Kubo noticed Junkrat, with an eye for reading his audience that was honed very sharp by years of needing to read an audience if he wanted enough money from them to eat, and feed his mother as well.

"Three days, Hanzo and his loyal samurai had braved the raging waves. Three days, the Singing Serpent eluded them, vanished into the depths after destroying seaside towns all along the cliffs of the land. On the fourth day came the hurricane."

The story swept on, Kubo's amplified sound allowing him to control much more paper than before, letting him tell a story that he'd never felt satisfied in his telling before. He made sure to engage his new audience member along the way. As the samurai and his soldiers sailed the rolling blue sea, eventually tracking down the monster responsible for the destruction of many villages, Kubo sent the golden-paper serpent diving sharply at his audience, and orchestrated near misses by soldiers flung from the ship, then caught and pulled back on deck just before hitting someone by their noble leader and his noble grappling hook.

Once the Singing Serpent wound the full length of its nine-foot paper body around Junkrat, Kubo's shamisen searing the air with the haunting echoes of the serpent's song.

The tale ended when the noble Hanzo dove from the wreckage of his smashed ship to singlehandedly spear the serpent through the weak point in the roof of its mouth during crashing thunder and lightning produced by silvered pieces of paper flashing over the mess hall's lighting elements. The story left the samurai team clinging to pieces of their shattered ship, drifting in a sea calming as the hurricane moved on. But as the crew gathered their wits and what supplies were left to them, a single grey fin rose from the paper water. Then another. Then another!

"- but that is a different story," the young storyteller informed his audience, "and this story is at an end. For all stories have an end, but there is no end of stories."

He struck his final notes, and the small pieces of paper that had made up his set flew back into their neat pile atop his silk pack. The butcher paper unfolded and rerolled itself, and everyone's napkins - including Junkrat's sketches - fell where they'd first been at the start of the story.

"So be sure to come back tomorrow!" Kubo said, as he tied up his pack around his pieces of paper, lingering to exchange a few words with his audience.

[muroieda]

Amongst a throng of people and non-people who have seen this kind of performance before, Junkrat stands out. He watches all of this performance with childlike bewildered fascination - it's all so interesting, so pretty, so flashy, and there's just so much of it all happening at the same time. Junkrat's eyes dart around as if he couldn't afford to miss even a single thing, grinning wildly the whole time and letting out the occasional giggle.

The delight disappears for moment when the paper coils around him. Should--should he be worried? Is he in danger here? It's not like he's been able to figure out the kid's trick, so he has absolutely no idea if this is cause for alarm or not.

Thankfully, everything is okay. Despite being a huge distraction from everything else, the butcher paper leaves him well enough alone, and it soon returns to its natural, paper-like state...just in time for everything to end.

Aww, man.

Nonetheless, his chipper attitude quickly returns and he's lopsidedly bounding his way over to Kubo. If anyone else wanted to talk to the kid, they'd have to race Junkrat to him before he gets there and crouches down to put his hands on Kubo's shoulders.

"That was incredible, mate! How'd ya do it? How'd ya pull it off!?"

Of course the first thing he wants to do is dissect it and figure it out. It's what he does with anything he finds fascinating.

[bachido]

Kubo always made a special effort to draw in the new faces, and he's pleased to see his efforts that day have worked.

Junkrat's enthusiasm surprised him a little, though - new audience members didn't usually jump this quickly into his space.

He doesn't try to break away from the man's grip, though, the enthusiasm being more welcome than not. "The magic comes from my mother's side of the family," he explains. "It's my power here. I tell a story here at this time every day I can. Did you like it?"

He thinks he can already tell the answer, but specific feedback was good for a storyteller's craft.

[muroieda]

"Genetics!" Junkrat exclaims, letting go of Kubo so he can stand up straight, leaning back slightly and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Genetic predisposition to control paper! Does that make sense? Nope! Not in the least, but Junkrat is more than happy to roll with it.

"Never would'a thought of that."

Junkrat leans back down at the waist, an awkward angle but it's what it takes to get to Kubo's height, his face grim and serious with his hands on his hips.

"No, I didn't like it at all."

And then the manic grin returns like a fire that refuses to be put out even after smothering it.

"I loved it! What's yer name, mate?"

[bachido]

"Does magic not pass down through families where you're from?"

Kubo had yet to meet anyone who came from a world where magic - at least the kind he had command of - was only the stuff of stories.

He leaned back, slightly wary at first when Junkrat glared at him, but the wariness lifted and his smile covered his face again as the tall man's attitude switched on him.

"My name is Kubo," he said, grinning the smile of a proud artist. "I'm glad you loved it! What's your name?"