legionworld

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Who| Widowmaker and you!
What| Outpost followups before the real battles begin
Where| Legion Outpost
When| Post-Evacuation
Warnings/Notes| will update if needed

Threads will be posted below. Feel free to start your own with Widowmaker or contact me to discuss one.

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"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."

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