Widowmaker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
araignee_du_soir) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-10-17 08:39 pm
araignee_du_soir) wrote in legionworld2017-10-17 08:39 pm
Entry tags:
OPEN
Who| Widowmaker and you! [will match format]
What| Since coming back from infiltrating the Catastrophists, something is visibly wrong with the reclusive spider.
Where| Training Area, Habitat Deck, around Legion World
When| After Ninth Gate
Warnings/Notes| references to nihilism, suicide, and murder (damn Catastrophists), potential for violence, possible talk of brainwashing and torture
Since returning from the mission to infiltrate the Catastrophist cult, Widowmaker had been keeping to herself. She hadn't come out of the mission well, though only those that knew her would be able to tell that her quietness was deeper than normal. Sombra's disappearance hadn't helped at all, leaving Widowmaker to her own devices, her own thoughts, her sinking sense of purpose and direction far too much. She'd been taken off active duty - a voluntary choice given she refused to subject herself to the psych evaluation that had been required of her post-mission - but kept her Legion ring on a chain about her neck. She was being watched by the senior staff, she knew, but whether that was because her mission partner had reported concerns about her conduct during the mission or her own actions was unknown. And unimportant. Widowmaker just needed to figure out what to do with herself - a tall task with the way she was slowly spiraling down.
{Jumping Spider}
Widowmaker had always been secretive about her solo training, making a point of not letting others watch her or holding something back when working with others. She didn't hold back in the field, but she had yet to unleash everything she could do in the field. So, the day she headed into her personal training simulation and forgot to lock the room down, forgot to pick a time when there were less people around, it wouldn't take long for the staffers to start talking about it, watching her from the viewing area, word reaching the ears of anyone interested.
Those that came to watch would find a cityscape of rooftops, varying heights with windows and odd angles. There was a vague resemblance to King's Row, but it could have been any European city from Widowmaker's Earth. Targets would pop up - some moving, some stationary - throughout the scape to create a multitude of difficult shots. Swiftly and smoothly, Widowmaker moved over the rooftop with parkour and her grappling hook, reacting to the appearance of the targets set up on a random algorithm. There was a grace in which she took steady aim - many times from the air - hitting target after target with single shots. All the while, classical music played.
[JS1] Not only was Widowmaker sailing through the course shooting targets through windows, upside down or other unusual angles, she was treating it like a live exercise. It was the only way to focus herself to keep the thoughts that had been woken up inside her during that mission from creeping back into her consciousness. That meant she left active venom mines at various places, hidden from sight around corners, used in the field to cover retreats or alert her to the presence of others sneaking up on her. Anyone foolish enough to enter the simulation for any reason, might find themselves triggering a mine.
The gas emitted by the mine wasn't lethal, only temporarily debilitating, making the victim feel weak and cough, gasping for breath unless immune to gas attacks. But that wasn't the real threat, as the moment the mine went off, Widowmaker reflexively squeezed off a shot from her rifle to strike the one who set the mine off right in the forehead. Luckily, she was using stun ammunition so the worse that would happen was the unfortunate target would get briefly knocked out and have a bit of a headache for a while.
Landing nimbly next to her accidental victim, Widowmaker rest her rifle on her shoulder. "Be thankful I wasn't using live rounds." If sympathy was expected, it wasn't going to be received, though there was an unusual gruffness to her tone. She hadn't even thought before firing, forgetting where she was and reacting like the killing machine Talon had meant to turn her into.
[JS2] It seemed that everything was going well, her skill impressive and solid, and it was. Until the end of her session neared. She had been going for well past the normally recommended training time, running over into time allotted to another Legionnaire, but she refused to let up until she was exhausted. The problem was that her body tended to not reach that point easily, but her mind... That was a different story with how much it was working overtime. Even this amount of strenuous activity couldn't keep her from remembering the things kicked up in her mind by the Catastrophists.
She was doing well, until she wasn't. Widowmaker had grappled herself up a tall building, releasing the line and pushing off from the roof's edge with her feet. Diving backwards in a sailing flip, she brought Widow's Kiss up to draw a line on a far target and fired a perfect shot. But when she put her hand down to catch herself on the edge of the lower adjacent roof, she was off just enough that her grip slipped. There was no cry or anything as she fell, though her eyes were wide as she kicked a foot against the building to try to right herself. A fall from that height would be very damaging, if not fatal depending on how she landed, so falling was not an option (even if a part of her entertained the thought). Out shot her grappling hook, catching the building, and she jerked the line tight and lost her grip on her rifle.
Striking the wall hard with a loud grunt of pain, Widowmaker halted her fall and hung there for a few long seconds as she drew in a few breaths. Lowering herself to the ground, she took a few unsteady steps over to where Widow's Kiss had landed, holding her left shoulder and ignoring the scrape on the side of her face. She sat down heavily by the weapon and spoke the command to end the simulation. With the cityscape dissolving around her, Widowmaker sat there, visor raising and eyes closed, trying to ignore the footsteps of someone approaching her.
{Spider Wolf Tarantula}
Sombra might be gone, but her biome remained. And so did Widowmaker. The beach house had become her home, so she kept living there. She could have moved fully into her own biome or to the meager crew quarters she had, but at least the beach house had familiar scents and the mess Sombra left behind. Of course, Widowmaker cleaned up the dirty clothing and gathered the snacks together to donate to another, but it remained mostly the way it had been left. She wouldn't let anyone inside but Sombra and Reaper (if they ever returned), but the beach was known to others.
[SWT1] There once had been a plan brewing to talk a resort on the French Riviera down on Earth to giving the Legion exclusive use for a couple days so they could enjoy some real relaxation. After so many weeks along this facsimile of the Gulf of Mexico, the sniper had wanted the real waters and sands of the Mediterranean Sea. But with her partner's disappearance, so went that plan.
But that didn't mean Widowmaker couldn't try to enjoy the beach she did have. At least, she should get to wear the bikini she'd bought in preparation for it. Laying out on the beach - the artificial sunlight at least wouldn't burn her skin like the sun would - she had a drink with her and a digital book open before her. She wasn't reading it, but staring out at the crashing waves. Funny enough that there was a second drink poured, complete with a little cocktail umbrella, nestled into the sand next to her. As though it was meant for someone else...
[SWT2] [A trail of smoke rose up in the air of the Habitat Deck. It wasn't indicative of a large blaze - not like Reaper's biome of burning Overwatch headquarters - but something fresh and not normal. On the beach, close enough to the water that it could easily be put out if necessary, was a small bonfire. And standing almost too close to the fire was Widowmaker, sunglassed down and arms crossed. The light flickered off of her glistening skin as she stood there in her bikini and coverups, as she stared into the fire to watch what had once been fabric burn.]
{Wildcard}
[Come at me, bro.]
What| Since coming back from infiltrating the Catastrophists, something is visibly wrong with the reclusive spider.
Where| Training Area, Habitat Deck, around Legion World
When| After Ninth Gate
Warnings/Notes| references to nihilism, suicide, and murder (damn Catastrophists), potential for violence, possible talk of brainwashing and torture
Since returning from the mission to infiltrate the Catastrophist cult, Widowmaker had been keeping to herself. She hadn't come out of the mission well, though only those that knew her would be able to tell that her quietness was deeper than normal. Sombra's disappearance hadn't helped at all, leaving Widowmaker to her own devices, her own thoughts, her sinking sense of purpose and direction far too much. She'd been taken off active duty - a voluntary choice given she refused to subject herself to the psych evaluation that had been required of her post-mission - but kept her Legion ring on a chain about her neck. She was being watched by the senior staff, she knew, but whether that was because her mission partner had reported concerns about her conduct during the mission or her own actions was unknown. And unimportant. Widowmaker just needed to figure out what to do with herself - a tall task with the way she was slowly spiraling down.
{Jumping Spider}
Widowmaker had always been secretive about her solo training, making a point of not letting others watch her or holding something back when working with others. She didn't hold back in the field, but she had yet to unleash everything she could do in the field. So, the day she headed into her personal training simulation and forgot to lock the room down, forgot to pick a time when there were less people around, it wouldn't take long for the staffers to start talking about it, watching her from the viewing area, word reaching the ears of anyone interested.
Those that came to watch would find a cityscape of rooftops, varying heights with windows and odd angles. There was a vague resemblance to King's Row, but it could have been any European city from Widowmaker's Earth. Targets would pop up - some moving, some stationary - throughout the scape to create a multitude of difficult shots. Swiftly and smoothly, Widowmaker moved over the rooftop with parkour and her grappling hook, reacting to the appearance of the targets set up on a random algorithm. There was a grace in which she took steady aim - many times from the air - hitting target after target with single shots. All the while, classical music played.
[JS1] Not only was Widowmaker sailing through the course shooting targets through windows, upside down or other unusual angles, she was treating it like a live exercise. It was the only way to focus herself to keep the thoughts that had been woken up inside her during that mission from creeping back into her consciousness. That meant she left active venom mines at various places, hidden from sight around corners, used in the field to cover retreats or alert her to the presence of others sneaking up on her. Anyone foolish enough to enter the simulation for any reason, might find themselves triggering a mine.
The gas emitted by the mine wasn't lethal, only temporarily debilitating, making the victim feel weak and cough, gasping for breath unless immune to gas attacks. But that wasn't the real threat, as the moment the mine went off, Widowmaker reflexively squeezed off a shot from her rifle to strike the one who set the mine off right in the forehead. Luckily, she was using stun ammunition so the worse that would happen was the unfortunate target would get briefly knocked out and have a bit of a headache for a while.
Landing nimbly next to her accidental victim, Widowmaker rest her rifle on her shoulder. "Be thankful I wasn't using live rounds." If sympathy was expected, it wasn't going to be received, though there was an unusual gruffness to her tone. She hadn't even thought before firing, forgetting where she was and reacting like the killing machine Talon had meant to turn her into.
[JS2] It seemed that everything was going well, her skill impressive and solid, and it was. Until the end of her session neared. She had been going for well past the normally recommended training time, running over into time allotted to another Legionnaire, but she refused to let up until she was exhausted. The problem was that her body tended to not reach that point easily, but her mind... That was a different story with how much it was working overtime. Even this amount of strenuous activity couldn't keep her from remembering the things kicked up in her mind by the Catastrophists.
She was doing well, until she wasn't. Widowmaker had grappled herself up a tall building, releasing the line and pushing off from the roof's edge with her feet. Diving backwards in a sailing flip, she brought Widow's Kiss up to draw a line on a far target and fired a perfect shot. But when she put her hand down to catch herself on the edge of the lower adjacent roof, she was off just enough that her grip slipped. There was no cry or anything as she fell, though her eyes were wide as she kicked a foot against the building to try to right herself. A fall from that height would be very damaging, if not fatal depending on how she landed, so falling was not an option (even if a part of her entertained the thought). Out shot her grappling hook, catching the building, and she jerked the line tight and lost her grip on her rifle.
Striking the wall hard with a loud grunt of pain, Widowmaker halted her fall and hung there for a few long seconds as she drew in a few breaths. Lowering herself to the ground, she took a few unsteady steps over to where Widow's Kiss had landed, holding her left shoulder and ignoring the scrape on the side of her face. She sat down heavily by the weapon and spoke the command to end the simulation. With the cityscape dissolving around her, Widowmaker sat there, visor raising and eyes closed, trying to ignore the footsteps of someone approaching her.
{Spider Wolf Tarantula}
Sombra might be gone, but her biome remained. And so did Widowmaker. The beach house had become her home, so she kept living there. She could have moved fully into her own biome or to the meager crew quarters she had, but at least the beach house had familiar scents and the mess Sombra left behind. Of course, Widowmaker cleaned up the dirty clothing and gathered the snacks together to donate to another, but it remained mostly the way it had been left. She wouldn't let anyone inside but Sombra and Reaper (if they ever returned), but the beach was known to others.
[SWT1] There once had been a plan brewing to talk a resort on the French Riviera down on Earth to giving the Legion exclusive use for a couple days so they could enjoy some real relaxation. After so many weeks along this facsimile of the Gulf of Mexico, the sniper had wanted the real waters and sands of the Mediterranean Sea. But with her partner's disappearance, so went that plan.
But that didn't mean Widowmaker couldn't try to enjoy the beach she did have. At least, she should get to wear the bikini she'd bought in preparation for it. Laying out on the beach - the artificial sunlight at least wouldn't burn her skin like the sun would - she had a drink with her and a digital book open before her. She wasn't reading it, but staring out at the crashing waves. Funny enough that there was a second drink poured, complete with a little cocktail umbrella, nestled into the sand next to her. As though it was meant for someone else...
[SWT2] [A trail of smoke rose up in the air of the Habitat Deck. It wasn't indicative of a large blaze - not like Reaper's biome of burning Overwatch headquarters - but something fresh and not normal. On the beach, close enough to the water that it could easily be put out if necessary, was a small bonfire. And standing almost too close to the fire was Widowmaker, sunglassed down and arms crossed. The light flickered off of her glistening skin as she stood there in her bikini and coverups, as she stared into the fire to watch what had once been fabric burn.]
{Wildcard}
[Come at me, bro.]
no subject
She crossed her arms, rubbing the one, almost as if she was cold. "There is a lot I need to do in here, to clean up after Sombra and take care of loose ends. Until that is done, being a hero can wait." There was disdain dripping off that one word, as usual, though she made no attempt to soften her contempt.
"Are you the reason they are insisting on a psych evaluation?"
no subject
He pauses briefly before adding, "If it's any consolation, they sent someone to talk to me too." Someone Garrus politely turned away, because while he appreciates the gesture, his insistence that he's fine isn't him putting on a tough front. He's had a long time to deal with these memories and a lot of help doing it. There are still regrets, and pain, and guilt - feelings that are rawer now than they have been in a long time, thanks to Ellora - but they're not pushing him over the edge. Not anymore.
no subject
"Then again, I've always been treated differently than everyone else from the moment I showed up. Why should I expect anything different now?"
no subject
"If you want an optimistic take, they could just be worried about you." He offers. "Have to go through a lot of painful memories, come back and find out someone you cared about is gone ...? Could leave someone in a bad place."
no subject
She turned over one of the more stubborn pieces of clothing in the fire with the stick that didn't really want to turn to ash. "I have taken myself off the active roster. They should just leave me alone."
no subject
That being said, he does briefly spread his arms at the 'one person' comment. He knows that's not directed at him, but nonetheless he's here.
"And I'm sure that they will sooner or later. Maybe not soon enough for your liking, but they will."
no subject
The mind suppressed memories for a reason. Talon suppressed specific ones for very specific reasons.
"Somehow I doubt that will happen until I do the eval. I do not like doctors."