un muerto en vida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fantasmaniac) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-07-21 10:02 pm
fantasmaniac) wrote in legionworld2017-07-21 10:02 pm
Entry tags:
see you later space ghost
Who| Reaper + you
What| Ghosting around as per usual
Where| Biome, Unofficial Talon Headquarters, and other shady places.
Notes| Some open threads, some closed.
[ ＢＩＯＭＥ ≫ OPEN ]
It's almost frustrating how often he comes back here, like simply being there will tell him what his purpose here will be. No, he thinks, there's absolutely no purpose here for him. The longer he spends here, trying to work alongside these Legionnaires and play by their rules, the more his aspirations and ambitions falter. He's a big picture guy, sure, but this still feels like a whole new scale. It's still too big, too wide a spectrum for him to work with. He needs a specific focus, and he doesn't need to focus on killing a monster. Leave that kind of shit to the people who are already invested in the task.
Even Reaper knows his limitations. Let the super-heroes deal with the looming disaster in the distant future. He's got patience, but even that can grow thin when each investigation, each encounter with villains and supernatural shenanigans bear no fruits. Not for the plans he and his associates had in mind, anyway.
The scraped away lines of Jack Morrison's chalk-line shape has been left untouched, surprisingly enough. He didn't want to restore it, like doing so would cover up Jack's existence on this bizarre ship. It grounds him, strangely enough. Jack always did have that effect on him. He remembers the day Jack left for his so-called mission, and after a couple months passed, he figured the idiot went and got himself killed.
So incredibly disappointing. Reaper had been looking forward to that special sort of drama, the kind he thrived on, and exploited for whatever reason he had planned.
"Thought I told you not to go and get yourself killed."
His boot scrapes heavily at the smudged out line of Morrison's head.
[ ＳＡＦＥＨＯＵＳＥ ≫ CLOSED ]
If anyone called him out on his moping, he tell himself that he's most Definitely Not. That being said, he's the very picture of moping as he's standing in the room that Sombra had so graciously given him. Not out of a fit of uncharacteristic nostalgia, but mostly to gather things he'd often left behind. He has a few untouched shotgun shells from before his incarceration with the fun police, which may probably come in handy should his plan pull through.
If there's anyone that seemed ready to get off this ship, it was Sombra and Widowmaker. He'll definitely have to tell at least one of them before going through with the Plan: Jump Ship. Technically... he doesn't have to, but it's probably smarter to keep tabs on some thinly spread backup than have nothing at all, and he probably feels this tiny sense of obligation. If all else fails, rendezvousing with and bringing back at least one of Talon's most guarded secrets and revered weapons would be better than bringing back none.
Imagining Sombra running off to do her own thing at least made some sense. Widowmaker, on the other hand, would be much more difficult to explain if he showed up without her.
The door slightly ajar, he makes no efforts to hide the fact that he's taking his guns apart, cleaning them, and about to put them back together. It's a mundane but delightfully tedious task that gave him something to do while he did his thinking. He might miss this feeling when his abilities fully return (at least, he hopes they do), but there are way more pros to being able to produce infinite guns than cons.
[ WILDCARD ]
HMU if there's a scenario you'd like to play out with Reaps. He's basically thinking about hunting down Jack via mission logs and reports, then once he gets to the destination maybe hijacking a ship or something— anything to get off this ship! Either way, he's a little more solemn than usual, and he won't outright attack anyone that isn't meaning him harm since he still needs to stay on the Legion's goodside for the mission. He's not feeling particularly unsocial but he isn't going around mingling either, so same ol' Reaper.
What| Ghosting around as per usual
Where| Biome, Unofficial Talon Headquarters, and other shady places.
Notes| Some open threads, some closed.
[ ＢＩＯＭＥ ≫ OPEN ]
It's almost frustrating how often he comes back here, like simply being there will tell him what his purpose here will be. No, he thinks, there's absolutely no purpose here for him. The longer he spends here, trying to work alongside these Legionnaires and play by their rules, the more his aspirations and ambitions falter. He's a big picture guy, sure, but this still feels like a whole new scale. It's still too big, too wide a spectrum for him to work with. He needs a specific focus, and he doesn't need to focus on killing a monster. Leave that kind of shit to the people who are already invested in the task.
Even Reaper knows his limitations. Let the super-heroes deal with the looming disaster in the distant future. He's got patience, but even that can grow thin when each investigation, each encounter with villains and supernatural shenanigans bear no fruits. Not for the plans he and his associates had in mind, anyway.
The scraped away lines of Jack Morrison's chalk-line shape has been left untouched, surprisingly enough. He didn't want to restore it, like doing so would cover up Jack's existence on this bizarre ship. It grounds him, strangely enough. Jack always did have that effect on him. He remembers the day Jack left for his so-called mission, and after a couple months passed, he figured the idiot went and got himself killed.
So incredibly disappointing. Reaper had been looking forward to that special sort of drama, the kind he thrived on, and exploited for whatever reason he had planned.
"Thought I told you not to go and get yourself killed."
His boot scrapes heavily at the smudged out line of Morrison's head.
[ ＳＡＦＥＨＯＵＳＥ ≫ CLOSED ]
If anyone called him out on his moping, he tell himself that he's most Definitely Not. That being said, he's the very picture of moping as he's standing in the room that Sombra had so graciously given him. Not out of a fit of uncharacteristic nostalgia, but mostly to gather things he'd often left behind. He has a few untouched shotgun shells from before his incarceration with the fun police, which may probably come in handy should his plan pull through.
If there's anyone that seemed ready to get off this ship, it was Sombra and Widowmaker. He'll definitely have to tell at least one of them before going through with the Plan: Jump Ship. Technically... he doesn't have to, but it's probably smarter to keep tabs on some thinly spread backup than have nothing at all, and he probably feels this tiny sense of obligation. If all else fails, rendezvousing with and bringing back at least one of Talon's most guarded secrets and revered weapons would be better than bringing back none.
Imagining Sombra running off to do her own thing at least made some sense. Widowmaker, on the other hand, would be much more difficult to explain if he showed up without her.
The door slightly ajar, he makes no efforts to hide the fact that he's taking his guns apart, cleaning them, and about to put them back together. It's a mundane but delightfully tedious task that gave him something to do while he did his thinking. He might miss this feeling when his abilities fully return (at least, he hopes they do), but there are way more pros to being able to produce infinite guns than cons.
[ WILDCARD ]
HMU if there's a scenario you'd like to play out with Reaps. He's basically thinking about hunting down Jack via mission logs and reports, then once he gets to the destination maybe hijacking a ship or something— anything to get off this ship! Either way, he's a little more solemn than usual, and he won't outright attack anyone that isn't meaning him harm since he still needs to stay on the Legion's goodside for the mission. He's not feeling particularly unsocial but he isn't going around mingling either, so same ol' Reaper.
no subject
He recalls the fresh memory of doing recon alongside her right on this ship, the image of the child so jarring to their current situation. She called out to him, saluting. She looked up to him along with her mother, Jack, everyone...
A shuddering sigh echoes throughout the habitat, and he perches himself like a shadowy crow on a ledge on her 2. Just a little to the side, but not quite out of sight. He already knows she won't be able to reach him quickly enough at this height.
no subject
She's just about convinced herself that the voice she heard earlier was a figment of her imagination when she catches the flutter of black just off to the side. She freezes and snaps her head up to look directly at him and tenses. She recognizes him straight off as a member of Talon; she remembered the reports, the posters up in Helix common areas.
What she didn't realize was that she had been a lot closer to him earlier in life, even just in the past month here. When Jack mentioned Reyes was 'alive', he had failed to inform her of the disturbing connection to Reaper.
"Is this your doing?" She makes a small movement, one hand twitching fingers wide to indicate the rubble around them.
no subject
He doesn't answer her question right away, content to simply roost and stare down at her as she mulls over that question and what possible answers await her. Then he snorts, head canting to the side from the effort.
"This was before my time. Can't take credit for this one, sad to say."
The sarcasm is easy to spot, but there's a nagging sort of sincerity behind his words.
no subject
"Do you mean here, or back on our Earth?" Letting him know that she's aware of who he is in her world (at least, who Reaper is; who's wanted by Helix and who knows how many other organizations and governments).
no subject
Yet at the same time... maybe if he's vague enough, he can see what other sort of interesting conclusions she comes to? She already knows what Reaper is.
"Earth."
The word is growled out in a low, amused sort of tone.
"The biome is all me."
no subject
Her eyes narrow, and she curls her hands into loose fists. Okay, so he's taking full responsibility for this biome. She casts a look at their surroundings; it was so solidly the Swiss Headquarters of Overwatch, so if this was his doing ... he must be close to it. She started thinking of all the agents she grew up with, and where they were when she'd been here, if she knew. She had her theories about him, but she couldn't be sure, unless ...
She looks back up at him, and comes to a decision. Standing straight and tall, she calls out;
"I invoke the power of Ma'at." She starts to glow with white rays of light, and uses her flight ring to rise up off the ground and bring herself level with Reaper. "I have a few questions for you. You will answer them.
no subject
Is the only off-hand sort of reply he gives with a slight shrug of the shoulders. He certainly didn't see the need to go through all the trouble of getting a fully-built HQ only to destroy it again in ways he probably wasn't privy to— no fatal weaponry and all.
Once she starts glowing, he immediately puts up his guards in case of an attack. He saw he preparing for something, but couldn't imagine what until he remembered: Oh, right. New powers. They don't seem worrying, but he keeps a wary eye on her as she raises herself off the ground.
He snorts.
"Shoot."
no subject
"Who is the man behind the mask? Who is Reaper?"
From here, all other questions would flow.
no subject
His mouth opens to spew out the usual BS, some sort of metaphor or something to describe what Reaper is, but his brain feels like it's working on its own. He's on the outside, watching himself blurt out his secrets willingly. Even if he doesn't think his identity among those who knew him would change anything, it's almost a pride issue at this point.
"Reaper is—" he starts to say, then his throat suddenly closes up. A wheezing sound escapes, like he's suddenly realized what's going on and trying to actively fight it. His shoulders tremble with the effort.
"—the aftermath of good intentions gone bad. You knew him well, Fareeha."