legionworld

Widowmaker didn't take one moment after she'd been one of the last to evacuate Legion World, holding off Catastrophists with Widow's Kiss for as long as it took for everyone to escape, to clean the blood of the slain (and some of her own) off after dumping her bag of meager possessions, case of ammunition and her rifle off in one of the smaller quarters. Her focus was singular then, unable and unwilling to pay attention to anything but her search for one particular person.

It wasn't in her nature to hang onto sentimentality, so when Legion World came under attack, she hadn't messaged Marjara to pass on any sentiments in case one of them fell in battle. She had just become the killing monster she had been best at. But now that they were relatively safe and clear from the immediate battle, she needed to know that the elf was okay, that she had made it. So, Widowmaker hunted through the Outpost for Marjara, shoving through groups in her way or going around them when she could. When asked what she was doing, she inquired about Marjara's whereabouts but none could help her.

So she kept hunting. There was only so much Outpost; Widowmaker would eventually find the elf.

Gone. It was all gone. How many times was this going to happen?

No. No, this is what was best. They'd dealt their enemies a large blow and gotten as many people out as they could. That had to be enough. But Marjara could still be found tucked into a corner, idly rubbing the wrist of her new, gleaming metal arm, staring off into the middle-distance.

None the worse for wear, at a glance.

Something inside loosened a bit upon seeing Marjara, huddled as she was away from others when Widowmaker finally found her. She hadn't even realized that she'd been holding tightly to the Widowmaker as a bit if armor until that moment when she felt the sense of who she was again creep back up.

Stopping before Marjara, her shadow falling upon the elf, Amélie silently looked her over for visible wounds that mattered. Seeing none, she simply held her hand out.

That frame was unmistakable, and drew Marjara's focus squarely back to center. In an instant she'd straightened, taking in the sniper with a look of absolute relief. Not that she'd thought for a moment that Widowmaker would be anything less than fine during the chaos. She would have made it out just fine, and with a few more tally marks on her record.

But it didn't matter. The weight of seeing her after everything felt like it was crushing her chest, to the point that all she could get out was a breathless:

"Amélie."

And then she was launching herself forward, both arms wrapping around her as high as she could throw them.

Thank goodness Amélie was perceptive enough to see Marjara's intent when she moved as the sniper lowered herself down a bit so the short elf didn't have to strain herself. In fact, she momentarily pulled Marjara off her feet in the initial surge.

An embrace had been her intent as well, but this ended up being more than she thought. Surprised by both the emotion from Marjara and her sudden inability to breathe, Amélie buried her face against the top of the wolf's head, just drinking in the scent and feel of the woman in her arms.

Indulging for a few moments like this was okay, right?

She didn't care that she was dangling with her feet off the ground. She didn't care that her heart was abruptly rabbiting against her rib cage. All that mattered was that the other woman was here, safe and whole, and she clung to her tightly.

Words. There should be words. How glad she was that she'd come through alright, even though she'd never had a doubt in her mind. But recent events had put her off-kilter in a way she couldn't remember being since...well. Since the last time her home had been destroyed and abandoned.

She should really expect it by now, gaining something only to watch it be destroyed, or change into something unrecognizable. To slip through her fingers in some regard. Perhaps that was why she held to her so tightly, her head bowed to press into the delicate curve of the sniper's shoulder.

Somewhere in the back of Amèlie's mind, she noted that there were two arms holding onto her. So, Marjara had finally gotten the prosthetic - about damn time too.

Another moment of indulging, of using the moment to reaffirm that Marjara was in one piece, that the strength in her grip didn't waver, and Amélie let the elf's feet find purchase on the floor again, hunching her torso forward so she didn't quite yet let her go. There was a familiar yet altogether foreign feeling of purity in that moment; it should last.

And perhaps it would have if the surrounding sounds, particularly someone dropping a crate they'd been carrying, didn't jar Amélie back to reality. Loosening her hold and straightening her back, the sniper kept her hands on the elf, one brushing the hair back from her face.

She began to speak but stopped herself when she realized it was French she'd started with. Making her mind focus, she used words the elf would understand though there was a thickness to her accent.

"I found you."

Such eloquence.

The noise startled her too, ears perking as her eyes darted in the direction of the noise. But it was nothing. No explosion, no sign of another battle about to take place, and she could try to slow her heartbeat once more as her dark eyes shifted upwards to rest on Amèlie. A dawning smile tugged at her mouth.

Still cold to the touch. But that's not coldness in her eyes, is it? There's a woman there, real and true, who cared for her. Enough to look for her, and...

And she cared for her too. In a way she hadn't thought would ever be hers. She'd ignored it, put it aside, dismissed it, and for what? When everything was capable of falling down around them like this, what else did they have but the ties they formed with the people they met?

"You did." And she smiled wider, biting the corner of her lip, before impulse took her. She leaned up again, but instead of an embrace, Amèlie would receive a warm kiss to her cool blue-tinged lips.

If Amèlie had thought the intensity of the embrace had been a surprise, she was completely overwhelmed by the press of Marajara's lips to her own. She froze for a second as her brain caught up to what was happening: Marjara was kissing her. All on her own, no provocation, no mistake, of her own free will. It was extraordinary.

Finally her hand moved to cup the elf's cheek as she returned the kiss a moment before pulling slightly back. She licked her lips absently, cheeks darkened to a purple color as she actually blushed as she ducked her head almost shyly.

"If that is the reward for finding you, I will have to hunt more often."

Oh thank the gods. For a moment she'd worried -- moments too late -- that she was imposing too greatly. Amèlie was usually reserved and distant, and it might have simply been that she preferred to be this way. They had their occasional moments of closeness but it wasn't up to her to presume...

Wait, was she blushing? Actually blushing? The corners of her eyes crinkled with soft laughter, one hand shifting to press to her cool cheek as it started to warm.

"I'll be here."

There wasn't much of an increase in temperature, but definitely enough to be felt. Amèlie almost felt a normal human temperature, head turning just a bit into the elf's touch.

"You better be," Amèlie replied, using her own hand on Marjara to tilt her head up. This time it was the sniper that leaned down to kiss Marjara, soft and slow, completely forgetting their present location. Right then, there was just Marjara and for one moment everything was alright.

While Amèlie remained cool, Marjara seemed to melt, pressing in close.

Being the First, a Keeper, an Inquisitor, a Herald, all of those things had meant focusing on the task at hand. Being willing to sacrifice piece of herself along the way. Something like this would have been impossible, surely. And yet here they stood. A woman who thought she'd forgotten how to feel, and a woman too afraid to risk acknowledging those feelings...

"The end of all existence, and now's when we decide to do this," she laughs quietly against her lips, eyelids heavy. "Our sense of dramatic timing is impeccable."

"Apparently facing insurmountable odds puts things in perspective," Amèlie replied with a chuckle. "Though I believe my small existential crisis is partly to blame." Her hands trailed down Marjara's arms until she could take the elf's hands in her own. "Better late than never, oui?"

After she had conveyed as much of her feelings as she was capable of that time in the forest, Amèlie had let it be. She hadn't expected anything in return - continually assuming it would only be a matter of time before Marjara came to her senses about what the sniper was. The alternative was a foreign concept, so she did nothing else... until this moment when she knew she was wanted.

"...and I seem to have stained your clothing with the blood on mine. Excuses."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

The surge of emotion upon realizing Widowmaker felt the same way kept her floating high, but exhaustion would be soon to follow. Rather than pull away, however, she tucked herself in close, head beneath Amèlie's chin, listening to the too-slow beat of her heart.

"I don't care about the blood. Just...just stay with me."

Squeezing Marjara's hands with her own, Amélie then guided the artificial one about her waist while keeping a hold of the other. With a hand now free, she rest it on the elf's back, fingers awkwardly rubbing a spot between her shoulder blades. It was as though now that the initial surge of emotion had passed, Amélie wasn't sure how to express affection properly once again.

"Do not worry, mon cœur; I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, quietly awed at how well Marjara fit up against her. Like it was natural. All her Talon programming aside, this alone was enough to make her care about the fight ahead of them - not just because it was the only logical conclusion, but because she didn't want to lose this.

That always seemed to be the key, didn't it?

Saving the world was such an abstract idea on its own, and really saving existence wasn't any larger. Your 'world' was existence, as far as your mind could comprehend. It was everyone, faces and people you didn't know, sacrificing yourself selflessly for a noble good.

Saving the people you cared for, on the other hand...she'd failed at that. So many times that the very idea of openly caring for someone put a seed of fear in her heart, paralyzing her. But in a fight of this magnitude, it was all or nothing. Somehow that lessened the fear in same stroke as spurring on her incentive to fight, to help secure victory for them all. How strange hearts and minds could be.

"Good." She takes a deep, steadying breath. "Because a lot has happened over the last few days, and I'd really like one good thing to balance it all out."

Unbidden, a soft chuckle more felt by the elf than heard, rose up from Amélie. It was so absurd, the bit of mirth, but she couldn't help it; Amélie couldn't remember the last time anyone associated her with something good. She didn't think Marjara's ability to look past what she was, the blood on her hands, and the potential for violence from one breath to another would ever cease to amaze her.

"Much, indeed," she replied after a moment. "I am pleased to see you finally decided on an arm. I was worried you were being too bullheaded about it all."

"Hey."

And she drew back just enough to squint up at Amélie. "I am not bullheaded."

Alright. Just a little. The point had been that she had one now, and just in the nick of time. Her lips pursed slightly before she glanced to one side, lifting up the arm for her to examine.

And there, whether she noticed or not, along the wrist joint of the mechanical arm Stark had crafted for her, was a small engraving. A spider.

Not bullheaded. That could easily be argued, and the tiny smile on Amélie's face said that quite clearly. But she turned her attention to the arm, hand running over the length of it. Though lacking any of her own, she was more than familiar with the variety of prosthetic limbs available in her own world. This one was of a nice high quality, though it didn't seem like a Legion design - more something she would see back home. Interesting.

She didn't see the engraving at first; her fingers found it. Just a rough patch underneath pads, she thought it may have been a flaw at first. Odd considering the quality of the rest of it.

"There's a-- oh." Her words pointing out the perceived flaw drifted off as she turned the arm to bring the area into the light and she saw what it was.

Continuing to stare at the engraved spider, Amélie was at a loss for words. The rational, logical part of her mind pointed out that it could be a coincidence, that it was merely the mark of the arm's creator or had nothing to do with her. Another part of her noted a bit of heat to her face again, sluggish blood monumentally moving to her cheeks, darkening them for a second time. Swallowing thickly, her eyes shifted back to Marjara.

"I grabbed a room." A pause and then quickly, as though she'd tripped over her own feet, "We should get cleaned up."

Widowmaker hadn't been hard to find - Omnicomms could still track flight ring signals, and the outpost is small. Still, Wash hadn't really started looking until he'd settled in himself, so it's well into the evening before he finds her.

Might as well rip the bandaid right off. "How'd the retrieval mission go?"

By the time Washington went looking for her, Widowmaker had finally been able to clean up and seemed to be in the quarters she'd chosen, sharing them with Marjara. The elf was out, but the sniper had the door open and her rifle completely dismantled before her as she cleaned the weapon. A quick glance would show Reaper's gun was sitting in the case (which had a large hole on one side and several cracks along the surface) on top of a crate of ammunition along with a glass of water and a partially consumed field ration.

Upon hearing the question, she looked up at Washington and nodded. "Aside from the fires and one rather persistent cultist, it went well."

OPEN

Closed to Marjara

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Really autocorrect - elf to wolf?

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Towards the evening

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