legionworld | I've been hoping for a sign...

Entry tags:

I've been hoping for a sign...

Who| Marjara Lavellan, and YOU?
What| The new kid in town is finding her way around.
Where| Around the ship in general.
When| First arrival.
Warnings/Notes| If you're squicked by mentions of amputation...well. Here's your warning.

As Inquisitor, she's traveled through the Veil to the Fade, the realm of abstracts and dreams. She's traveled through time. She's delved into the literal hearts of beings too massive and ancient to fathom. But this place is something else entirely. Sleek and metal, with no ground or dirt to be seen, outside of the lush forest that's been afforded her as her biome. And Elgar'nan, she'd never seen so many stars in her life.

Yes, she could certainly be found on the Observation Deck, putting it to its purpose with wide, dark eyes. One sleeve hangs empty, but her other arm extends to grip the rail, allowing her to lean forward as far as she dares. It's all a bit dizzying.

People might blink to see her poke her head into the training room, given her size and slender form, but she does so with great interest. With the loss of her arm, she'll have to relearn fighting with a staff, regaining proper balance with the weapon. She'll need to learn sooner, rather than later. Particularly if she's agreed to fight with the Legion.

Another fight to save all of creation. At least it doesn't fall entirely on her shoulders, this time.

She traverses the halls as well, taking in all the sights and sounds with perked ears and all the curiosity of a kitten. There are a great many humans here but none have mistaken her for a servant yet. So that's a pleasant change of pace. There have been whispers of a farm or garden, something of that nature. Perhaps a place she might be able to continue her study of herbs and potion-making? She may as well cultivate any advantage she can get.

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Oh, she looks. With an accent like that, she can't not. Orlesians, in space? Perish the thought.

But the woman she sees in front of her doesn't look like the Orlesian nobility she's used to. Her eyes flicker between the blue-tinted woman and the screen, brow arching inquisitively.

"Am I interrupting?"

If so, she'll show herself out.

Pale eyes move from the screen to the newcomer in silent consideration. On one hand, this one was interrupting, but Widowmaker was sufficiently irritated at Daxam physiology that had she actual emotions, she would've tossed the holoscreen across the room. Or made it... float away. She wasn't sure which it would be.

"Non. A break from this drivel would be a good idea," she replied.

"What drivel is that, exactly?"

With all but stated permission, she let herself slip inside. The screen is an interesting one...then again, most of the technology here is fascinating in one sense or another. The amount of information that can be shared and the speed and clarity is all rather fascinating.

But she'll do her best not to gush while she's still finding her way. Wouldn't do to seem over-eager.

A small gesture was made toward a nearby chair with one hand, Widowmaker's other hand pushing the screen a bit to the side so it wasn't between them.

"This is the Legion's compilation of alien physiology such as anatomy and other medical information. I cannot assume they all possess the same characteristics as humans."

"Ah."

Of course. That makes sense. If you've already wrapped your head around the fact that there are a multitude of lifeforms scattered across the universe. Which is still a work in progress, where she's concerned, but it's not stopping her from trying all the same.

She frowns thoughtfully at the screen before settling into the offered seat with a faint nod of thanks. "Do you have much experience with...aliens? Where you're from, I mean."

Pleased that this woman hadn't pressed to find out why Widowmaker was looking into it, she settled back in her own chair more comfortably. She then shook her head.

"Where I am from there are only humans and omnics - robots." And one very intelligent and irksome gorilla. "There are tales of other beings in literature, but they are all fable."

Honestly? There could be any number of reasons. Sure, what she'd overheard didn't seem terribly friendly for said aliens, but suppose some of them were the enemy? It would make sense to study them for weakness, for a future battle.

Maybe she was just jaded, by this point.

"Well it all appears real enough now, doesn't it? Strange, the sort of things that end up being true. Though most often the stories don't come close to the truth of it." There's a wryness to her tone as she draws her bare feet up, tucking them beneath her where she sits.

Then, at the risk of sounding a little ignorant...

"What exactly were this 'robots' like? Are omnics just a race of robot, or something else?"

After looking at herself in a mirror after Talon had finished 'upgrading' her to see azure staring back at her, things like aliens and apparently elves did not surprise her. After Reaper, how could she possibly think anything and everything existed?

"Omnics are the special name the robots where I am from are called. I do not know if it was given to them or what they decided to call themselves. I do know it comes from the Omnibus - the factories that make them and the God programs that ran them." The Omnic Crisis was already underway as far back as Widowmaker could recall.

"Omnics come in all sorts of forms and sizes. Some function as vehicles, some as heavy construction equipment, many as soldiers. Most now are somewhat humanoid in shape, claiming to be self-aware."

"They were made?"

Technically everyone is made, in some biological sense of the word, but the way she describes it can only really fit one creature she knows of from her own world. Maybe there's a connection there.

"Are they anything like golems? They don't transport anyone...not unless they throw them, I suppose, but they were used as guards, and as warriors, or could sit as still as statues unless commanded into action."

"Similar. Omnics are machines with advanced AI." A pause as it occurred to Widowmaker then that this elven woman might not be from a place with technology if she was talking about golems.

"Artificial Intelligence. A programmed personality and thought processes. Not real, but mimicking reality."

"Something that believes that it's real, but isn't?"

That...sounds incredibly sad, actually. Why give something that kind of understanding only to have it need to question its own purpose in existence? A machine, at that. Something intended to work for people, to make their lives easier.

Not a comfortable thought by any means.

"That... is a matter of debate." It was something Widowmaker didn't have a personal opinion on as omnics died just as easily as humans did with a properly placed shot. But it was something that had been an issue for decades on her world.

"Omnics have claimed to have become self-aware. Whether that is true or not is an ongoing political issue where I am from. When I was but a child, the omnics launched an attack against humanity and a war waged for thirty years following in its wake. We call it the Omnic Crisis."

"That must have been difficult." Not just for her, for anyone. War took a toll on you, left scars...she herself was a little less whole as a result of her own.

But to endure such as a child? To grow up knowing nothing else but the constant struggle just outside your door? It's the sort of thing she wouldn't wish on anyone.

"Non. I was lucky. The Crisis didn't affect France as much as it did many other countries," Widowmaker replied with a shake of her head. "And I came from the privileged class, granting me shelter from the worst of the Crisis until I was old enough to follow the conflict on my own."

"And what did you think of it all? If you don't mind my asking," he adds after a moment, her brow furrowing. The last thing she wants to appear invasive, especially after she's just helped herself to having a seat here.

But it's hard not to wonder, to want to know. Even a world and a war so far-flung from her own still holds that curiosity for her.

"I did not think of it much," Widowmaker replied. Being as removed from the Crisis as she was, it was simply something that she saw in history holovids. Of course, she sided with humanity and felt for the war-ravaged countries, but it was superficial at best.

"It was simply something that had happened to other people and the after effects were none of my concern. I danced, focusing on my craft in the comfort of Paris. I contributed to charity as most did, to help the areas hit hardest by the omnics, but I did not have a personal opinion on it." She paused a moment then, something briefly flickering in her eyes. "Not until I met Gérard, at least."

"Gérard?"

It looked -- and sounded -- like a lover. It felt like peering a little too closely, maybe brushing up against something she shouldn't be seeing, but she couldn't look away.

The woman's face seems well accustomed to scorn and apathy at best. What she saw in that name? Wasn't either of those things.

For the briefest of moments, Widowmaker didn't want to clarify. She didn't want to speak of him, but she had trapped herself by even mentioning him. Something had to be said.

"My husband," she replied, shifting to cross her legs. "My late husband. He was an agent of the organization responsible for lifting humanity to victory in the Omnic Crisis." Perhaps that would be enough to keep this woman from prying further, allowing her to not have to be rude to shut the topic down.

Yes. Dead husbands, definitely off the menu for initial conversations. "I see." And that's all that needs to be said on that note, isn't it? Marjara just nods once and lets the matter drop.

"And I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name..."

Introductions are a much better topic, aren't they?

One bullet dodged when the pointy-eared woman moved on from the matter. And now she had a second bullet to dodge as she couldn't exactly introduce herself as Widowmaker after having just mentioned her dead husband. She didn't know this woman and until she could assess how bright she was, she wasn't about to hand such an easy to follow trail to her.

"Amélie," she replied, opting to use the name she rarely did these days. It felt like it was from another life of hers, and there was little reason to cling to it. She was Widowmaker. Yet, she couldn't exactly stop being Amélie no matter how she tried.

"Amélie," she repeats carefully, before inclining her head politely and offering a warm smile. "I'm Marjara."

See? No pressure to be had here. Just two people meeting on a weird ship in the sky and exchanging life experiences. It's all good.

"So you were reading up for the next big fight?" she prompts, eyes darting towards the display the other woman had been looking over when she'd arrived.

There was the slightest rise of her eyebrows. It's not often she finds a foreigner that can say her name with so little issue. That was definitely a positive for Marjara. It was almost like she'd had dealings with the French before, been around the language. Of course, that was foolish to think. The woman was an elf.

"A pleasure," she replied then glanced over at the holoscreen. "Reading in general. I have only been here a day, and there are so many kinds of people in this dimension. You are not human, I assume, given your ears?" Of course, Widowmaker's blue skin didn't exactly make her look particularly human either...

Her lips tugged up in a dry smile. "You'd assume correctly. I'm an elf. So far the only elf I've seen here, for all the diversity. What about you?"

Because she might be human, or something else, or a combination. She can't be so sure in her assuming, although with that skin color and height... "You're...not Qunari, are you?"

She doesn't have horns, and the coloring and build isn't quite right, but you never knew.

"I have also not seen any other elves on Legion World," Amélie replied. "But it is a large place and I am still at beginning of these records. Perhaps you will find others in time."

The question about her own species was a bit amusing to her, but she didn't hold it against Marjara. It was a logics conclusion; humans weren't supposed to look like her.

"Non. I am human," she said with a shake of her head. "I have been altered by scientists." Maybe she should dilute that to something simpler. "Doctors."

"Oh." Alright, she can garner the larger part of that from context. Something was done to make her this way by...people who did that sort of thing. Though the next question comes almost reflexively, her voice quiet. "Was it voluntary?"

Because it's one thing to press on about it if it was, if she chose this and was happy with the way she was. If it had been chosen for her...well. That said enough on its own, didn't it?

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