legionworld | [OPEN] the problem with blind optimism

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[OPEN] the problem with blind optimism

Who| Raynor and YOU!
What| Wandering around Legion World after rejecting his offer to join the Legion. Man needs some time to think, after all.
Where| Engineering, Mess Hall, or Observation Deck. Although he can be caught in transit going anywhere.
When| After OM/GAU/TH&TH
Warnings/Notes| None so far?

For the most part, Raynor prided himself on his ability to get used to things by now. After all the surprises he'd seen in his life, he felt like nothing could really take him by surprise anymore, not in any significant way. Sure, he didn't deal with things well, given the cigarette pack on his sleeve, and the slowly rising need for some alcohol. But he did deal with things, however her had to, just to move on.

This though, this was straight out of a comic book. And it was so completely out of left field, that he just... wasn't done processing it yet. Super heroes, super villains, it just seemed too silly to be real. The only thing he could really latch onto was the threat of the end of the universe, something he definitely had loads of experience with, thanks to the Zerg.

All the same, when they offered him a position in the Legion, he politely declined. He'd think about it and get back to them, he told them. Partially because he wasn't done processing all this, but mostly because he wasn't in any hurry to jump into another organization claiming to do good. The Sons of Korhal gave him that same pitch, wanting to overthrow the ineffective government letting people die, so they can help everyone. And now, look at him. On the run from the government he helped install, worse than the last one.

No, if they wanted his help? They'd have to prove their moral standing.

At the moment, he was just wandering around. Trying to keep his mind off of all the information he was dumped with, and simply getting acquainted with this so-called Legion World. He'd already been to the training room, and had himself a nice conversation with a scary redhead. But otherwise, he could be found lingering in a few places, ranging from engineering, to the mess hall, to the observation deck. He wasn't actively doing anything though, just... watching everything and everyone. Being a silent observer.

It gave him time to think. But it also left him wide open to be approached.

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The observation deck is a pretty common place to see new faces, she's discovered. You can tell just how new generally by the way they stare up into that vast array of stars...though some are more used to the view than others.

It's relatively quiet, all the same. Which is why she end up here some days, sitting cross-legged at the end of the platform, head tilted back to stare up at...well. Everything. The vastness of it all.

Raynor's footfalls aren't exactly quiet, of course, and she glances back briefly over her shoulder to see who's approaching.

No, Raynor wasn't exactly quiet as he approached the observation deck. But he didn't mean to disturb her, that much he could admit. At first, he'd been caught unprepared by the view, staring in awe for a moment at not just the stars, but the human homeworld that he'd never gotten to see with his own two eyes.

But as he got closer, that was when he saw her sitting crosslegged on the actual platform, looking back at him. A small embarrassed chuckle leaving his lips, as he addressed her. "Sorry if I interrupted, ma'am. Didn't mean anything by it."

"Yes, how dare you wander into this perfectly public space." Her lips curved a little wider, something vaguely impish about the look. "You're fine. I don't bite, I promise."

And her eyes strayed back to the seemingly endless array of lights shining out through the darkness. "It's beautiful, isn't it? You can't see them like this from the ground, no matter how clear the sky."

"I reckon I might just be history's greatest monster," If she wanted to do teasing, he could certainly do teasing. His entire relationship with his crew was steeped deep in sarcasm, after all. Still, he didn't let that stop him from stepping closer, and leaning forward against the railing. Alternating between looking at the stars, and looking at the Earth.

"I'm not usually a romantic kind of guy, but... it's a great view alright," He admitted, smiling. "Sometimes you spend so long wrapped up in your own problems, that you don't really appreciate this kind of view as often as you should."

A pause, as his gaze stayed more fixed on the Earth. "Never seen Earth before either. Read about it in history books, but never got the chance to see it myself."

Oh, and she laughed outright at that one. Monsters. Gods, but she'd seen her share, some in more modest guises than others. He didn't seem the type...but then, neither had others who'd turned out to be far more than they appeared. She doesn't really assume as much as she once had.

Still, there's plenty of room to share here as Raynor steps up to the railing, marveling at the view. Marjara, for her part, gives a little nod. "It's almost reassuring knowing there's so much out there...and that our actions count for very little, on the whole," she replies, in a somewhat distant tone.

But then she's glancing up at him again. "You must be closer to home than I am, then. We've yet to fill in the edges of the map on our own world, much less any other."

"Is that why you have pointed ears, ma'am?" Probably a lot more blunt that it needed to be, but Raynor wasn't exactly a subtle kind of guy. He saw the ears when he stepped closer, but he didn't really have a reason to say anything about it, until now. "My apologies if that's rude. Back home, the closest I've seen to you are fairy tales about elves and orcs and the like. Never really thought I'd be in a position where I'd meet someone like you."

Finally, he turned his head to actually face her, offering her a smile. "Name's Jim Raynor. Most folks call me Jimmy." He extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Her tattooed brow wrinkles. Ah. Another world where her people were little more than fairy tales. She's not dwelling on the implications today, however, even if the smile she gives him in response is a little wry. "Not sure what an 'orc' is, but yes. That would be the reason for the state of my ears."

Which would normally be a cause for insult. 'Knife ears', or 'rabbit', if someone was a kinder breed of bigot. But she can tell he's just curious, that he's got no quarrel with her. After all he's even calling her 'ma'am', and that's as sure as sign as any that he's trying to be respectful.

"Marjara. Of clan Lavellan." Her eyes fall to his hand briefly before she extends her own. Alright. Let's see where this goes.

Raynor smiled as he shook her hand, glad that he didn't make an ass out of himself, for once. He usually tried to be conscious of cultural differences, especially after how much time he spent amongst the protoss. Granted, fantasy elves were a bit of a different ball game, but the principles were the same. Be respectful, don't get into their business, and help where you can.

"Don't worry too much about the orcs, they're usually the bad guys," He commented with a chuckle. "Granted, we're talking about stories for kids here, so who knows what orcs are actually like."

Finally, he let go of her hand, turning back to the view. "So. First time in space, huh?"

So he wants to shake it? That's...alright. Benign, as greetings go, and she tries to offer it back in turn before letting her hand drop once more. In turning, it might be more apparent that she only has the one hand to offer up. The sleeve at her left hangs empty.

"Some stories hold a strange grain of truth to them, I've found. And some are unrecognizable from the truth of the matter. It all depends who's telling the stories, perhaps. I imagine an 'orc' would have a very different take on things." She tilts her head slightly, dark eyes studying Raynor briefly from head to foot.

"Is it that obvious? You don't seem a stranger to it."

Ah, so this was her first handshake then. Fair enough, the protoss weren't that well-versed with it either. He didn't notice the empty sleeve at first though, mostly just because he was focused on everything else. But as she turned back to gaze at the stars, the corner of his eye did catch the way her sleeve wavered, as if there was nothing there.

Something to ask about later, maybe. Probably too personal to bring up right now.

"Where I come from, humanity left Earth once we discovered how to travel through space. Started colonizing other planets, some three hundred years ago I wanna say," He started, his gaze on Earth. "I was born on Shiloh, a farm world in the Koprulu sector. Didn't get off world until I enlisted, which put me on plenty of battlecruisers and had me fighting on plenty of planets."

He paused for a moment, pulling a cigarette out of his sleeve. Getting his lighter out with his other hand, and lighting the cigarette, before taking it to his lips. "I guarantee you I'm no stranger to space, ma'am. For all the good and bad it's done me, I can't imagine where I'd be without it."

"So even in an expanse this large, people still find reasons to fight over it all."

That's...discouraging. But not at all surprising, given her experiences. She's not the image of the grizzled war veteran in quite the same way Raynor is, but there is something of a shadow that flickers over her eyes before she starts carefully drawing herself to her feet.

"Can't blame them for going out there, though. Once you could, why wouldn't you want to know what was out there?" Her smile turns a little wry. "I was the same way, when the universe was everything in my world beyond the forests my clan traveled through."

"People find reasons to fight over everything."

The words left Raynor's mouth automatically, the older man taking a long drag from his cigarette. Gaze trained directly on Earth, picking out every small little detail he could. "If we're not fighting with ourselves, we're fighting with something else. That's just the way it is."

He really wished that wasn't true, but his optimism in that regard dried out long ago. After the Confederacy, the Sons of Korhal, the Dominion... Raynor had a hard time believing humans just weren't inherently selfish and greedy. It was only the people in his crew that helped him realize things were more complicated than that, that everyone had their own reasons to fight.

But damn if he just wasn't tired of fighting.

He was far from the only one. You could be young and idealistic and want to revolutionize the world for only so long before it took a toll on you, physical and mental. He'd clearly seen his fair share.

Rather than explore those no-doubt awful memories, Marjara shifts forward, hopping up to sit on the railing with her back to the starlight, not but a few feet from Raynor now and peering at him with those large, dark eyes of hers.

"...What was your home world like? You said you grew up on a farm."

"Boring," He said with a chuckle, bringing his cigarette away from his lips. Arms hanging over the railing, as he rested his elbows on it, and leaned against it. "Shiloh didn't have a lot of minerals to mine, so there wasn't any big industry there or anything. Nothing but farms as far as the eye could see... and man did I hate it back when I was a kid."

He could remember it clearly. Sneaking out of his house for late night demolition matches. Fixing up vulture bikes with his friends. Finding any and every chance to sneak out, and do something fun. "I was a bit of a jackass when I was younger. Not a big shock there; no one really likes their teenage self."

"Oh, I don't know. I think I was rather charming."

She crooks a grin, rocking slightly in place as her ankles lock and sway beneath her. She's only holding on with the one hand, but seems quite comfortable doing so. Her focus rests on the trails of smoke drifting around Raynor, the acrid scent in the air that follows.

She lets out a little breath. "Boring. It's hard to remember a time when things were ever boring, now. Look at where we are."

"Ain't no arguing with that. I reckon this Time Trapper fellow wouldn't have brought us here if we'd been leading boring lives back home."

It was an assumption, but Raynor felt pretty confident about it. If an extra-dimensional being was bringing people to another universe, why not bring people who'd adjust to it easier? If Raynor was in the man's shoes, and needed to get together an army to command, he sure as hell would've made sure to pick people who were specialized for the job. Which begged the question...

"So, you know plenty about me, ma'am. How about you tell me a little about yourself?"

That's as sure a sign as any to move on, though there's a great deal that you don't really tell people during a first meeting. Not if you intend to remain in their acquaintance. She tips her head slightly, appearing to consider his inquiry for a moment, her eyes straying to that burning ember at the end of his cigarette.

"I'm an elf in a world with magic, ruled by humans who would grind either into nothing if allowed to. I think that says all that needs to be said." Everything else could pretty well be extrapolated from there, if Raynor knew what he implied to know about the nature of war, expansion, conflict, and humanity as a whole.

Things that were 'different' didn't often fare well.

Raynor could definitely extrapolate the rest from that, even if it wasn't pretty. His smile faltering a bit, as a somber feeling seemed to wash over him. Yep, he knew plenty about oppressive governments, power-mad humans, and their ridiculous xenophobia toward alien races. Which was why the only words that could slip out in response were:

"I'm sorry."

He was sorry, because he understood that. He couldn't relate to it completely, since the persecutions he'd experienced were mostly in the context of humans on human, but he could understand it more clearly that he wanted to.

"You've no reason to be sorry. You don't seem like the sort that would condone that sort of thing." Because while every human benefits from the way things are? There are some who know. Some who try to make it better. This gruff, grizzled old soldier certainly seems the type. Again, that smile flickers to life at the corner of her mouth.

"But I appreciate the sentiment."

Taking a breath, she pressed on, eyebrows lifting. "The good news is that I'm rather used to strange things happening. Being pulled into another dimension to fight a power threatening to destroy all existence? Might as well be Tuesday."

Trying to make things better, and actually making things better, were two different things to Raynor. While he tried very hard to make a difference when it came to stopping Mengsk, in the end, it didn't keep him from getting tossed into a jail cell to rot.

A jail cell waiting for him whenever all this Chronoblivion business ended.

"I can't say I'm used to something of that scale myself," Raynor admitted, forcing a smile back onto his face. It was a weary smile, definitely not the same one he had on before. But he also didn't want to dump all his drama onto someone he just met, so it was the better alternative. "Alien invasions? Sure, plenty of experience there. But something trying to end the universe? Well... can't say I have much experience there."

"That's alright. I could probably teach you a thing or two."

Because none of it was particularly funny -- or maybe all of it was, in a sense -- but damned if you couldn't try to make it a little more bearable with humor. It's also meant as a way out, if Raynor would rather not divulge some things.

Everyone has a past they'd rather not talk about.

In a cosmic sense, it was funny. Sure, it was horrible, and overwhelming, and it really put one's faith in living to the ultimate test. But in the end, there was something funny about the gross imbalance. The idea that simple people who can do simple things are somehow expected to do the impossible.

Yeah, it was funny.

"I would certainly appreciate that, ma'am." He said with a chuckle, this one a lot more earnest. "I reckon pointing a gun and shooting's not really gonna cut it this time."

"No? And here I thought guns were meant to be the pinnacle of weaponry in the future."

Well. There had been a certain amount of hype around them, and from what Widowmaker had been able to show her? They were quite impressive as weapons. Tools. But clearly not the end-all answer to a problem like this.

No matter the weapon, it wouldn't simply be a matter of blasting apart everything in their way. Things were never quite that simple.

The sim rooms are pretty fascinating technology, regardless of the world you came from. Heck, even if the world you came from had sim rooms too, that doesn't change the fact that the science behind them is absolutely incredible. Junkrat comes here frequently for a variety of reasons, and he's surprisingly patient while he waits for his turn.

It's currently occupied by two sparring metahumans locked in large-scale combat. The collateral of the destruction in this simulated metropolis would be raking up quickly if it hadn't been more or less imaginary, and but it feels real enough to incite anxiety in certain people.

Not Junkrat, though. Speaking of proving moral standing...

He sits in a cafe that has had its storefront blown out, sitting at a table at what used to be the wide glass windows, sipping simulated tea and eating strawberry and cream cake, delighting in the chaos as if it were a divine, pleasant orchestra; the perfect backdrop for a punk-dressed pole of a partially bald maniac to enjoy a cheerful snack.

He catches Raynor out of the corner of his eyes as he wanders the debris-littered streets and turns to him.

"G'day!" he calls out cheerfully through the mangled window frame. An explosion echoes in the distance, followed by the recognizable sound of a building crumbling. Junkrat giggles at the sound of it. "You a gamblin' bloke, mate? Who've ya got yer money on?"

For all the advanced technology Raynor was used to, he'd never seen anything like the sim room. Sure, he'd seen the Protoss pull some pretty amazing feats with their warp technology, but even they couldn't quite measure up to something like this. He was currently walking through some of the debris, bending down to inspect some of it. The fight between the two superpowers relegated to background noise, as he as he brought his hand up to knock on the upturned asphalt, only to find that--

Yep. Definitely real.

And yet, he knew it was fake. It wasn't like warp technology, which was physically bringing a real object to a different location. This room was literally creating something out of nothing, and Raynor knew Stetmann would probably lose his mind over this.

At the greeting though, Raynor looked up from the debris. Finding Junkrat sitting by the mangled store front, and letting out a soft chuckle. "Howdy there, stranger," He answered, standing up and walking closer. "Can't say I can bet much when I ain't got any money to my name... but I've been known to gamble when the mood strikes me, yeah."

"Oh, ah..." Junkrat holds up a finger. "Figurative money, I should specify. Either an item of value or just braggin' rights. I understand; a gotta make do with what ya got in Junkertown."

He gestures with a metal hand to invite Raynor closer to join him in the wrecked cafe, while resting his chin on the other.

"You from America, mate? Ya talk like ya are."

"Well, if we're talkin' figurative money, then put me down for a hundred," Raynor started walking closer, maneuvering his way through the debris. Finally reaching a chair inside the mangled storefront, and taking a seat. "At least until I can make out who's who. I reckon I can think of something better to bet then."

He raised his legs up, resting them on a bit of upturned debris. Reaching for his cigarette pack on his sleeve, and pulling out out. "Never been to America, although the history books say it's nice." You know, whenever they weren't in a war. "You'd be surprised how much public schools teach about Earth, even when you're billions of miles away from it."

Edited 2017-05-31 19:48 (UTC)

"Oooooooooh, big spendah."

Under the table, Junkrat crosses his prosthetic leg over his full one, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand while making a simple gesture with his other as if he were holding in an invisible game of blackjack.

"Wouldn't know, never been. Unless ya consider the education here ta be public. Certainly compulsory if ya feel like gettin' involved with anythin' that matters around here."

He holds out his free hand.

"Need a light?"

Junkrat just happens to have...a few.

Raynor chuckled at the offer, and didn't hesitate to accept it. Leaning forward to light his cigarette, and pulling back to blow some of the smoke away from him. He leaned back against the chair then, bringing his legs up to rest against a chunk of debris in front of him, one over the other. All the while, his eyes stuck to the...

Well, he couldn't quite make it out, but it basically looked like two specks causing shockwaves every time they hit each other.

"Thanks," He said. "So, I'm guessin' you're from Earth then, what with mentioning America."

"Sure!" he says cheerfully. "Don't know any other planets that got an America. But enough about me..."

Junkrat threads his fingers together and rests his chin on the sagging bridge he makes with them, the body posture of an enamored lady. "Let's talk about you, mate. Sounds like ya haven't even been ta Earth, huh?"

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[OPEN] the problem with blind optimism

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