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
"So, desperate measures means resorting to wandering towards fire and smoke when you can't sleep?"
He sounds terribly uninterested in the subject though, as his shoulders relax. He turns away from Junkrat to find a chunk of concrete to half sit, half lean against.
no subject
"Shame," he murmurs play-dejectedly when Reaper backs away, standing back up to his full height. He crosses his arms behind the small of his back.
"Oh, sure! Just like a campfire, innit? Slow-burning embers, plumes of smoke. Spent many a night in the Outback fallin' asleep ta the dance of a flickerin' fire."
He shrugs, as if comparing the perpetually burning ruins of a military-tier base to a simple campfire was already self-evident. "I ain't the one that put this much effort inta recreatin' a disaster from decades ago, though. What's up with that?"
After so many people asking him why he fashioned his own habitat after a desert wasteland, he figures he's earned the right to ask at least one person what the reason behind their decision was.
no subject
That being said, Reaper also loves his dramatics.
"It's a stark reminder," he growls. "Not to get too complacent around here."
Oversimplifying it a bit, but that is the gist of it. He can't exactly go around telling everyone from his Earth that he was Ex-Commander of Blackwatch that got blown up in this very building and was running around as a Talon agent/Terrorist/Guy in a skull mask.
no subject
"How dark! How broody! How tortured." A beat. "I love it!!"
He crouches beside the chalk outline and presses a metal thumb against his bottom lip in thought.
"Complacent..."
Tap tap tap.
"So...I'm not the kind ta question other peoples' motives fer wallowing in their own misery--'cause, ya know, different strokes. This whole Legion thing is all "new beginnings", tabula rasa. Why wouldn't ya take that opportunity? I mean, this whole thing--" He gestures to indicate their entire surroundings. "--ain't the fault of the Legion. I've gotten as complacent as can be, mate, and I've still got--"
He looks down at his hands.
"--well, everything I came here with," he drops his hands, "and then some."