[OPEN] You're Out of Touch

[vata]

Who| Sombra and you!
What| there's a small gang member roaming Legion World and causing trouble
Where| everywhere on Legion World
When| eh
Warnings/Notes| NA

I: QIÉN ES SOMBRA

[There's something amiss in Legion World— aside from the obvious hiccups in general time. A bright splash of phosphorescent green and pink, flitting in and out of public space. Eventually the little streak of color slows to a halt: runs clawed fingers across pristine walls, over statues and murals and statues without reverence, just an abundance of fixed curiosity, as though it's all so new.

And for her, it really is.

Across her face, glowing body paint cuts the shape of a stylized skull, making otherwise young features look decidedly more vicious. A notion that's punctuated by her predatory posture and the gun resting openly at her hip.

In front of a heroic depiction of the Legion's finest, she snorts to herself, quietly:]

Where the hell am I?

II: TAGGED TURF

[Graffiti. There's a lot of it, all over the less-used Legion World hallways— and the statues, and occasionally the floors. Variations of 'Tierra de Los Muertos' or 'Sombra', and a few iterations of the telltale skull pattern painted across her cheeks. Where she got the paint is anyone's guess, but she's putting it to good use while she can.

After all, why would anyone even waste their time trying to stop her?]

III: WILDCARD

[ooc: Want something different? Let's make it happen! Feel free to go ahead and place your character anywhere on Legion World and I'll have Sombra fill in— or message me on plurk at ladyavali for specific plotting!]

Comments

II

[snoutback]

Even in his youth, Mako is large enough to be at eye level with a piece of graffiti that someone probably had to work their arms out pretty hard to put as high up on the wall as it is.

Land of the Dead, the plugs in his ears offer him a quick and dirty translation. Pretty edgy, but that's the draw. He'd be a hypocrite to roll his eyes at something like that, with his heavy combat boots and black cut-off covered in patches for bands that sound even edgier than what's painted up there.

He knows what he likes.

The black bandana and Ray-Bans aren't a part of his usual wardrobe, though. And Mako reaches for the latter as he squints through them at the muted (to him) colors, thinking taking them off for like two seconds to get a proper look at the artwork couldn't possibly hurt anything. Jamie certainly isn't around to tell him otherwise.

After a quick conspiratory glance to the side, he lifts his shades.

...Nice.

[vata]

"Not bad, right?"

She's lurking at his back when she asks, a wry, twisted little grin on her painted face. Normally she'd show her fangs a little more eagerly for someone stepping in, but— well, he looks the part of an interesting catch: unafraid, dressed to bite back, eager to step in closer for a better look.

She likes this one already.

[snoutback]

"Not many artists where I'm from."

And not a whole lot to vandalize, even if you did get your hands on some spray paint. There's a brief moment in which Mako hastily drops his sunglasses back into place, but otherwise he isn't at all taken aback by the sudden voice, casually glancing over his shoulder to get a look at its owner— and she's metal as hell.

Guess there's no point in asking if she's the one who did it.

"...Mind if I take a picture?"

[vata]

Her eyebrows lift just slightly, surprise at least partially masked by the streaks of luminescent paint. It's not often her handiwork is appreciated so openly— much less immortalized in digital form— but underneath all her hard-worn habits, she's still a creature of pride.

So, voice painted with slight disbelief, and strained by unintentional sarcasm, Sombra flicks a few claws towards the wall and shrugs.

"Knock yourself out, amigo."

After all, who is she to stand in the way of earnest art enthusiasm?

[snoutback]

Permission granted, Mako unpockets his Omnicom and steps back to line up the shot, taking a couple vertical and a couple horizontal, just in case one came out blurry. It's something to do. And a nice way to commend someone's time and effort, he figures.

He focuses on the task for the next minute or so without attempting small talk. It's just silence, not awkward or uneasy, and then he's done. At last, as his thumb flips through previews of the brand new photos, he comments idly:

"That's some nice paint on you, too."

[vata]

She's watching from over his shoulder as he takes the photos; looming when he pages through them. No commentary, no impatience, no anything but observing the quiet tedium with vested interest.

And when he speaks up, she does the same.

"It's a way of life." Not just for looks— though it always helps. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Sombra flicks her attention upwards again towards those lowered shades, tapping a finger against his omnicom. "Not like everyone else here."

[snoutback]

There's no instinct telling him not to let her in so close. He hasn't lost his trust in people. Though it helps, too, that he's looked at her and seen what he thinks is something they have in common.

At the tap, he takes the hint, lifting light, faintly visible eyes off the screen and searching for hers in the sockets of the neon skull.

"Pretty easy to top spandex," Mako says, nonetheless with an obvious grin starting to edge its way into his voice.

"I'll pass on trying to fit in, if that's what it takes."

[vata]

"Al parecer, lo semejante atrae a lo semejante."

Whether or not he can understand her is irrelevant: it's the camaraderie that comes across cleanly in her voice, her expression beyond painted contours. She lifts a hand, angling a few fingers towards the lettering looming just above them.

"Sombra."

[snoutback]

Yeah, no clue.

It throws him for a solid loop, which begins and ends with Mako tilting his head up, staring like the wall itself was going to tell him the answer, even though in the end it kind of does. Sombra's the one word that's shown up larger and more frequently than any of the rest.

"Ah, 'course--" What else could it be, other than her signature.

In turn, he glances down at himself, one big, black nail pointing to a name tag pinned amid the rest of the discord that makes up 90% of his jacket's surface area. Auto Service, it says in old-school embroidered cursive, along with:

"Mako."

[vata]

"Mako the mechanic."

Has a nice ring to it— along with the flair, the sense of style, and his keen appreciation for the unwanted. Plus, she likes his nail polish.

"They give you any trouble yet?"

[snoutback]

"Depends."

Pocketing the omnicom, Mako proceeds to leave his hand tucked away with it, posture shifting to something more open— more welcoming, because now might be his chance to finally have a laugh with someone over some of the weirdness that's been going around.

"How would you rate waking up to a guy you've never seen before claiming he's your best buddy?"

[vata]

"I'd kill him." Sold straight and simple as anything, she doesn't bat an eyelash at the concept. Mostly because if someone really did jump into her bed, trying to give her a story like that? They'd deserve exactly what was coming to them.

"What'd you do?"

[snoutback]

"Yeah, thought about that," Mako snorts in agreement, the difference between them being that he'd intended for a hard knock to the jaw at worst. "Bloke was already missing two limbs, though."

After that, he just starts shaking his head at his own leniency, because it was pretty damn considerable in retrospect, even though he's glad he didn't have to hurt Jamie in the end.

"I heard him out," he admits. "Figured I had to find my bearings even if I gotta dig 'em out of bullcrap, you know?"

[vata]

"And then?"

The setup to his story might be interesting by default, but it's the resolution that has her curiosity piqued: here he is, taking photos, watching the literal world go by— does that mean he rejected what he heard? Accepted it and rolled along like he never woke up at someone else's side? There's no one else here now but them, after all.

It's a problem that's unnatural by default. Which makes it fascinating in every way.

"Did you ever find your bearings?"

[snoutback]

"Time's pakaru bro, the guy says."

Mako takes the age-old tone of someone paraphrasing something that sounds insane for (ideally) someone else's entertainment.

"I don't remember 'im 'cause I'm heaps younger than I'm supposed to be, but in the present we're sure as mates." His dark eyebrows lift up and away from his facial covering. "Says the reason we're up here and not down under is we've been enlisted as space warriors. I'd say he's lost it, but I don't remember bein' surrounded by ET last arvo either."

To conclude, his hand and the omnicom resurface, thumb swiping the graffiti lingering on the screen. Photographs from around Legion World whoosh by until it stops on a shot of some random biome on the hab deck.

"Not even sure what I'm doing right now, to be honest."

[vata]

"Same as me," She starts, rocking back on her heels away from the omnicom screen and what he's trying to show her. There's only a slight pause as she stoops down to snatch up another can of paint, giving it a good shake and then tilting it towards him— rear first— as an offering just waiting expectantly for acceptance.

"Making the best of it."

[snoutback]

"My best ain't much better than stick figures," he warns while taking the can of paint anyway, nothing about his demeanor quite giving away the fact that he was currently experiencing sudden, jittery delight akin to a four-year old that's just been handed a lolly.

Didn't need talent to be a cheeky nuisance to authority.

"Any requests?"