dragon dragon, rock the dragon

[agnominal]

Who| Locus and you!
What| You couldn't really have a 'Game of Throne' event without a dragon. So. Have a dragon.
Where| Hallways, various biomes, eventually the training facilities.
When| Game of Throne event
Warnings/Notes| n/a



In the midst of everything that's going on, you might be forgiven for overlooking the transformations of a number of Legionnaires. There's more than enough going on to draw anyone's attention.

But it's a little hard to ignore a large, winged black dragon that is trying its best to make its way down a hall that is almost too small for it. Certainly too narrow for its wings to unfurl, and when it pauses to huff in annoyance, smoke and sparks filter through the hall in drifting clouds. There is a deep, unhappy rumbling from the creature, but it doesn't appear to be aggressive...per se.

Just largely annoyed by its inability to get anywhere fast. And it has to remember not to swing its tail or move too quickly, lest it smash into something.


----




The biomes offer a little relief. One might happen through one of the areas and hear what almost sounds like snoring. A low, rumbling, steady noise, that has no apparent source. None that can be seen, at the very least.

Of course, that leaves the danger of wandering smack into a very irate, very large creature trying to have a nap somewhere comfortable. And how awkward would that be?


----


Of course there are some areas meant for stretching ones legs, for flying about, and for experimenting with ones powers. Here, the dragon eventually lumbers, settling for setting a few dummies on fire in the hopes of taming its annoyance.

It's working to a certain degree, at least.


[ Want a custom encounter with the beast? Let me know, and I'll put down a starter. ]

Comments

Biome

[goddamngrenades]

Appropriate clothing acquired (sports bra, tank, yoga pants, one of Locus' sweatshirts), stress worked out (walking, flying, parkour, landing wrong and hitting herself in the tit ow), and Emu on her shoulder- York heads for where she always does when things get a little overwhelming. Nothing new in his Biome and Locus-

Maybe Locus got away from this without weird shit happening. Who knew?

"Locus?" That rumbling is disconcerting as balls- it reminds her too much of a thing without a face, of a cackling zombie and chains. Gears grinding, winding, and clicking, clicking, clicking-

Before she can wind herself up too much she runs smack dab into something- something she can't see. What the fuck? "Shit-"

[agnominal]

There's a snort, then a slight shift. Something shimmers as the dirt at her feet stirs, the imprint of giant feet left behind.

Then, the thing comes into view. It towers over her, reptilian face staring down into hers, nostrils flaring. Who is this, coming into his biome?

It considers her for a moment, before those slitted green eyes shift to rest on Emu.

[goddamngrenades]

"Oh holy fuck-" York scrambles backwards, Emu chittering as she curls up tight against York's neck, soft little chirring sounds pitched to sooth rolling out of her tiny, furry body. Averting panic is important and York is already thrown for a loop with her body-

This is way beyond the pale.

"D, tell Locus to stay inside, there's a fucking dragon out here-"

[agnominal]

D?

Emu.

The dragon almost looks confused, as much as a giant, scaly animal can look confused, before its head lowers. There's a very deliberate sniff of the air. It doesn't appear to want to attack or bite, or even breathe fire at him.

Instead, it tilts its head at her. Those large green eyes blink. And even as different as he appears, that telltale scar still lies in place across the bridge of its snout.

[goddamngrenades]

He is not responding to his omnicomm-

Which is fucking concerning and she's got half a mind to make a break for the bunker except-

Except.

She knows that green. As sure as she knows the tinge of Delta's comforting logic? She knows that green. That pale storm green tinged with grey, how open they are for all that they're on a reptilian face. Dark scaled marred by a familiar crossing and she's being sniffed and, yeah, she hasn't really done more than hose herself off after the gym but...

"...Locus?" Tentative, she reaches out a hand to run it along his snout. "Is that you, lobo?"

[agnominal]

York.

Whatever has done this to him? Must have done the same to York, only with slightly less dramatic results. When she reaches for him, he doesn't back away. Doesn't make any sudden movements, just breathes deeply with that same deep rumble that had first gotten her attention.

Here he'd been, trying to stay out of the way until all of this wore off. So much for that notion.

[goddamngrenades]

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." The tension goes right out of her, all that anxious fear at finding an apex predator just. Looming. Flushed away with a huff of breath. That little rumble that isn't like a purr? It's as familiar as the rest.

"...Guess you can't talk, huh?" Not that kind of dragon.

Dorado

[araignee_du_soir]

Widowmaker had only gone outside the beach house after she'd been freed from the ice and in warmer clothing to check on the state of the beach. Still frozen. Arms crossed, she glared at the ice, scanning it to see if maybe a small area was starting to thaw, when she saw something out of a fantasy novel.

A dragon. On the frozen beach. Oh, hell no.

Ducking back inside, she threw the first jacket she found on (it had been Sombra's) and grabbed her rifle. To hell with this whole sentients have rights bullshit; it was a dragon and she'd shoot it if she had to. There was no way she was going let the biome get torched.

A few minutes later, a shot spattered the icy sand a foot before the dragon. A warning shot from the woman that had her rifle trained on the dragon's head.

"Leave, beast."

[agnominal]

It did its part to draw the dragon's attention, at the very least.

Those slitted eyes fixed on Widowmaker where she stood, and it was clear a low, threatening snarl was curling inside of the beast's throat. She had been Sombra's friend, she was here, she was wearing her clothes...

But she did not possess the right to send him away.

Slowly, he pulled himself to his full height, staring her down. Not attacking, no, but making it absolutely clear that he was not going anywhere in a hurry. She was welcome to try and make him.

[araignee_du_soir]

Though she wasn't cowed by the dragon, she wasn't ignorant of the threat, the size and likely the fire breath. It was as impressive as most things could get, but she wasn't afraid. Her rifle moved with the dragon's movement, aimed at an eye, ready to pull the trigger on an instant.

This was her home. It didn't matter that this had been Sombra's biome; she had lived there the entire time she had been in this world. More a home than her own biome had been. This place had housed arguments, laughter, teasing, brooding, affection, pettiness and lust. More things than she was ever supposed to be regularly exposed to. Family.

And right then, it felt like all she had left that she could remotely call her own in this damn dimension. Had she been capable of them, tears of anger and determination might have glistened her eyes. Instead, she held her ground, unwilling to be intimidated.

[agnominal]

She was not the only one seeking those echoes of companionship here. And if he were nothing more than a dumb animal in the wrong place at the wrong time, would he still be looking at her quite so intently?

Indeed. There's something almost familiar in that calmly defiant stare. Maybe it was the framing of that distinctive scarring around the eyes.

That low, constant rumble continued as he stood there, refusing to move an inch with that weapon trained on him.

[araignee_du_soir]

Unfortunately, dragons in fairy tales were intelligent and it simply didn't occur to Widowmaker that this one might be someone she knew. So she maintained her position, kept her rifle at the ready. And would for a while.

...but eventually, even she would get tired of a standoff like this.

She didn't lower her weapon, but she decided to speak to the dragon. "Look here, dragon. This is my home. Do not damage anything or set anything on fire, because I will kill you." Her eyes narrowed. "Hopefully, you will disappear soon in a puff of magic, along with this freeze."

Widowmaker wasn't expecting an answer or the dragon to even understand her, but she lowered Widow's Kiss a bit.

[agnominal]

She'd be surprised, then, when the beast lowered his head in what was unmistakably a nod, before rearranging himself on the sands of the beach and giving a smokey huff into the cold air.

It was uncomfortable, and unfamiliar. The nights spent here were usually warm, smelled of tequila and fire and salt. It almost seemed fitting that it would be barren and cold now, with Sombra gone.

But that was perhaps leaning towards Washington levels of melodramatic.

Hallway

[prettycoolguy]

Suspicious thumping is always going to draw attention from some people, and the Chief is one of them. So it is that he turns a corner and finds himself face to snout with a dragon.

...Ah.

It's not Hiccup's dragon, that would make sense or something. It's just a dragon. On Legion World. The Chief doesn't speak, but his body language is loud enough with why?

...He's probably going to have to be the one to figure out what to do with this now, isn't he. Dammit.

[agnominal]

It would no doubt be amusing to some to see Chief nearly bump into a full-sized dragon...and for the dragon to be the one to widen its eyes and take a step back. Its head ducked low as its attempts to progress down the hall ceased entirely.

Luckily, they were both fluent in non-verbal, and there's almost an abashed cant to the beast's head as it lowers. Look. This isn't his fault, he just wound up this way and was trying to get out of everyone's way.

[prettycoolguy]

The fact it doesn't do anything snarly or threatening is a definite plus here. Also a plus is that it's communicating at him, this creature is intelligent.

So the next question: Does it have language? He'll find out.

"You're going to have to back up." This hall gets too narrow for the dragon to keep going, it can't stay down here.

Meanwhile, he's calling this in to Security. The Chief's armor systems are integrated with Legion comms, and he can get text through on subvocalization. That conversation goes something like:

There's a dragon here.

Is it doing anything dangerous?

No.

Can you field that one? We have our hands full with the rest of this magic crap.

Should I put it somewhere?

Aaaaand silence. Security is very, very busy today. Looks like the Chief's on his own.

[agnominal]

Backing up is...difficult. He can't see anything behind him, and it results in this awkward shuffle before he bumps into a corner, his head swinging around to try and look but his sight blocked by the folds of his wings.

There's a noise that's nothing if not frustrated before it turns its gaze to Chief, rumbling low in its throat. Okay, he'll do what he wants, but there's only so much he can do at this size. Backwards doesn't seem to be an option at this point.

[prettycoolguy]

The Chief hits a panel on the wall and an elevator opens up, much larger than most of Legion World's.

"Freight elevator. Should put us right off the hab deck."

Does a dragon even understand concepts like an elevator and a hab deck? Probably not.

"...There will be room."

The dragon is lucky it got the best explainer on the station.

[agnominal]

How fortunate that he already knows what he needs to, and that if Chief tells him a thing? He'll do it. Still, it's an effort to waddle his way into the elevator, careful not to knock anything accidentally with his wings or tail.

And of course, he leaves a space for Chief, lowering his head. Is that a nod? It could be a nod.

hallway

[orbislife]

After taking his leave of his own biome, Zenyatta has taken to wandering Legion World again. He's not actively seeking new experiences per se; he prefers to let them come somewhat naturally. There is no reason to overwhelm himself when there's already so much going on.

However, flying down the hallway and seeing a large black dragon is not something he can ignore or leave for another time. Zenyatta slows his flight and gently hovers closer.

"Oh dear. This cannot be comfortable for you. Are you stuck?"

[agnominal]

He knows him. He thinks. He looks more human than he recalls, but that voice and tone is very familiar, as is the sedate sense of kindness radiating off of the floating figure. See a monster in the hall? Offer it help.

It's almost certainly who he thinks it is, and he gives a huff of annoyance, black tendrils curling from his nostrils as he does so.

[orbislife]

His guess appears to be correct judging by the dragon's reaction. This is not a wild beast but someone facing a magical effect such as Zenyatta. A trapped animal would respond far more threatening than a grumpy huff. Or perhaps having Genji as a student and calming his inner rage makes Zenyatta a dragon tamer expert.

"I will try to assist you. My name is Zenyatta. Please blink three times if you can understand me," he says. Then he waits. A single or double blink could be considered instinct and automatic. Three blinks have less of a chance of that. (And it doesn't require the dragon to nod in a narrow space.)

[agnominal]

Three very slow, purposeful blinks followed, along with a slight shake of his head and elongated neck. All of this was very awkward and uncomfortable, cramped in this hall as he was. At least Zenyatta wasn't fleeing senselessly before him.

Nice to have confirmation that it is, indeed, his omnic friend. Friend? Yes. Friend is the correct term, or 'friendly' at the very least. There's a brief pause as he sniffs at him, as though this might confirm whatever change has taken place.

[orbislife]

"Oh good. We do not have a language barrier." Zenyatta clasps his hands before him. If he can continue to ask yes and no questions, they can communicate. Or at least, he can communicate in a crude fashion. He will have to figure out a way for the dragon to communicate to him beyond the blinks.

Zenyatta floats to get a better look at the dragon's sides and above. It doesn't seem like the dragon is fully trapped; it's more of a tight squeeze in a narrow hallway. The dragon needs to go someplace larger.

"I would offer my biome for your use, but it is far too cold. We will have to borrow another habitat until the magic wears off. I will reassure others that you are friendly and ask if we may borrow some space. Does that sound like a plan? Please blink three times if you would like to try this."

And of not... Zenyatta will try to think of another way to help.

[agnominal]

Again, three very distinct blinks, before the dragon attempted to stretch itself and look around for the best way to maneuver itself forward without knocking into everything. With Zenyatta leading the way, perhaps it would be a little easier to navigate his way to the majority of the biomes.

He wasn't particularly prone to feeling claustrophobic, but now wasn't the time to test what it would take.