thisavrou_log | [closed] Wake Me Up

Entry tags:

[closed] Wake Me Up

Who: Sombra + Talon
When: post-December everything
Where: living quarters
What: Sombra's systems finally finish repairing the damage, and a certain hacker wakes up from a month-long sleep
Warnings: super brief mention of needles, otherwise NA!

[Waking up feels like pushing up against stone. Like her limbs are made of sheet rock and her bones are all brittle underneath, and it starts with a groan that's dry in her mouth— bitter and stale, but when she winces, it all gets marginally easier. Like her mind's adjusting even if her body isn't: an understanding of the map that starts at her head and ends at her toes as they curl. As her eyes slowly crack open to a hazy mess of dim color— and then focus. Focus.

There's a sting in the crook of her arm, a sharp pinch that draws her attention as soon as she's capable of processing it, one hand slapping down instinctively and dragging the culprit loose— a needle, the connecting strands of tape— an IV. An IV?

How long has she been out?

Sitting up in clothes that aren't hers, braided hair pulled back and flecked with...feathers? Another groggy yawn has her pausing, and turning, and noticing someone else curled up beside her. It's not exactly unexpected: there's limited living space, and Sombra's been bunking with Amélie ever since they moved in (Gabe gets the office, along with a bed of his own— and an independence that probably sits well with his reclusive taste) but it's what Amélie is clutching in her arms that's unusual. A square piece of paper held tight between slender fingers.

Sombra's careful when she reaches over to tug it loose, violet eyes widening for a beat— then narrowing— her lips thinning out in a tight line as its contents are committed thoughtfully to memory. As she flicks her attention towards the empty bottle on the bedside table, quietly pressing the photograph down on the covers and slipping off the bed to set bare feet on the floor. She could wake Widowmaker up, sure, but considering what she's just seen? The spider probably wouldn't be happy about it. She's better off dreaming, waking up on her own, and having at least a sliver of a doubt that Sombra saw anything at all.

And Sombra's better off finding some food in their kitchen before her growling stomach wakes the dead.]

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[There's a quiet kind of silence that settles over them in that moment— Sombra folding her arms as she watches LaCroix busy herself with an idle distraction. A human response.]

You were lonely.

[The response was immediate.]

Bored. Restless. [Amélie took her hand back, folding it before her with a frown.] There is nothing to do on this station.

[Her mouth twists up at the corner, though her voice stays soft— violet eyes still fixed on Amélie herself.]

For the record, amiga? That's what loneliness feels like.

[Her eyes narrowed a little - a defensive action.]

I have spent countless hours in different countries than you. I do not need you.

[It was just... Sombra had always been just a quick call away, once she had been recruited by Talon and assigned to the spider's team. Amélie never really did randomly contact Sombra - every communique always had a tangible purpose - but she was always, well, there. Capable of responding back.

Her fingers curled in.]

I tried to find things to do when I wasn't keeping your body clean or making sure your vitals were stable. Tried to not kill Lena for being Lena. Tried to talk to Reaper about things that have been bothering me. Tried to keep Vetra from drowning in the flooding. Tried to figure out what you and Reaper have been keeping from me. Tried to keep the vermin that have decided to nest with for warmth away. Even tried to give some stupid depressed teenager direction.

Nothing helped. I have no purpose here. What use is a weapon that is locked away in a closet?

Okay, first off— can you stop saying 'body' when you're talking about me?

[One hand's lifted, pressed protectively to the center of her chest— index finger prodding at her own sternum.]

I was still me.

[Her curled claws relax, flexing only momentarily as she slides around the counter at last to pull up a seat beside the sniper, bare toes curling where they press against the stool's lower support rung. She exhales once, shoulders slumping— leaning in by degrees.]

Wish I could tell you I had all the answers, Araña. Sometimes things don't make sense to me, too.

[Amélie rolled her eyes. She was just specifying which part of the hacker she'd been keeping clean. It's not like she could do anything for the cybernetics or the possible state of Sombra's mind. Just being technical. But fine. Whatever. Sombra was awake anyway and that's what was important.

The sniper made no move to stop Sombra from sitting down next to her. Leaning forward, Amélie rest her chin on her folded hands.]

You always act like you do. Regardless, there are countless things for you to do here with all this technology and secrets buried in the bowels of the Avagi. I just kill people.

You said it yourself: doing stuff isn't the same as it having meaning, you know?

[She couldn't care less about the secrets buried here— the last time she went digging into secrets that didn't come from Earth, she only wound up shocked raw from the revelations that followed. False realities, fake injuries, the kind of prison you don't escape from.

Maybe that's selfish of her. Or stupid, pretending this place is real.

For now, she's picking her battles.]

[There was a very long silence from Amélie, her eyes closed, as she mulled her thoughts over. Lacking purpose was eating at her, but she was going to find ways to mitigate it. Somehow.]

...so what are you doing to fulfill your purpose here?

[At that, Sombra leans in, pressing her elbow gently against Amélie's side, as though sharing some unknown secret:]

Annoying you.

[The moment that elbow touched her, eyes opening to look over at Sombra, Amélie knew whatever was going to come out of the hacker's mouth was going to be either a lie or misdirection. It seemed it was likely both. It figured: she asked a serious question and got nothing back in return. It was practically the same as what happened with Reaper. Lying was the same as breathing to Sombra; Amélie was used to it, but that didn't mean it didn't bother her when she's seeking a real answer - as rare as that was...]

Mission accomplished. [Her response was incredibly dry and she rolled her eyes, getting to her feet.]

I'm going to take a shower and try to decide what to do about Lena learning things she is not supposed to know. Try not to eat us out of house and home in the meantime.

Wait, wait— [Sombra snaps, chuckling softly as she lurches forward to grab her companion's wrist before she has the chance to slip away entirely. Her grip is firm enough to hold, but not painful— though once her laughter subsides, there's something uniquely sober in her expression.

Something she tries to hide in the edge of a soft smile.]

I'm serious, hermosa.

You think I don't like spending time with you? It keeps me sane.

[That was...odd. Amélie looked down, but not at Sombra's hand encircling her wrist, but at her own arm. Despite the warmth transferring from the hand to her cool flesh, goosebumps had risen across her skin. Fingers subtly curled in and she suppressed a twitch of her forearm muscles.]

I don't know what to think anymore. You are as easy to understand as Chaos Theory, chérie. You confuse me. You are an opportunist. I have spent so much time being a factor in your agenda, watching you gain and lose trust in the most breathtaking inelegant dance, that I cannot discern the difference between calculated ploys and honest emotion from you.

[Her eyes turned back to Sombra, brow creased as she struggled to express herself.]

Likely that is due to my own lacking, my... emptiness. But it does not help when I am always guessing at your motivations. When I can't not do it. Even when I may want to take something at face value; I'm not built that way.

Then think about it like this: [Sombra draws her closer, pulling via the grip she's keeping on Amélie's arm, her fingers curling with a gentle pressure.]

We're stuck here for who knows how long, with no reliable way to get home. I could screw with you, sure, but if I did? I wouldn't get anything out of it.

[Her opposite hand slips in, fingers lacing through Amélie's own in a gentle show of sincerity- her eyeline dropping to watch the slow slide of her neon claws. Not focused, not malicious, just... there.]

We're an entire universe away from Talon, LaCroix. I've got no ploys.

[At the soft scraping of claws against her palm as Sombra unfurled the sniper's fingers to slip her own between them, Amélie turned her own eyes to their hands. She understood the oddness from before, finding that she must have been missing the physical contact from Sombra - live, controlled touches from the hacker as opposed to just her lying as she had before when unconscious.

Yet another thing Sombra pulled to Amélie's awareness that she preferred not having been made aware of; all the little things were building up and each realization made them increasingly foreign feeling and harder to deal with. Still, tingles traveled up her hand, her own fingers curling just slightly, almost in reflex, against Sombra's.]

Just your own personal amusement. [Which was often enough motivation for the hacker.] But you also don't play to lose; you always want something. I don't understand why on Kaittos you-- [She paused, frowning a bit as she aborted the beginning of an unconscious attempt to draw Sombra to her feet using their clasped hands.]

Talon is still here, Sombra. [Talon was always there, inside her head.] Reaper is here, therefore the Council is here.

I told you. I don't think you're just a máquina.

[Sombra slides out of the chair of her own accord, as if already reading Amélie's wants— she isn't all-seeing, of course, but the way she reads flickers and twitches, those little muscular movements, it comes close.

Her thumb scuffs over LaCroix's own, breathing low and steady and calm.]

Gabe's not the Council. He's got his own reasons, and believe me, I can handle him.

[A beat, and then:] I can handle anything.

Then you are a fool. [Amélie swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain rooted where she was, even with Sombra standing so close.]

It is safer for everyone to stop this. [Whatever it was.] Do you even realize how long ago it was that I last even remotely considered something like--

You are going to get yourself killed... And I don't want to be the one pulling the trigger.

Edited 2018-02-16 14:37 (UTC)

Nah, you won't. [She sounds so sure of it, reeling in her grip like a fishing line— drawing it up, up over her shoulder to rest their intertwined fingers against the soft feathers braided into her hair.]

You said so yourself. I like to win, right?

That does not mean you will. You can't win everything.

[The shift of their hands - which Amélie didn't bother to fight - had her sliding a half step closer to Sombra.]

Especially if you're not playing games, like you claim.

My track record so far? It's calling you a liar, mija.

[Widowmaker doesn't need to know about what really happened to Olivia Colomar— or the fact that Sombra's masking her only loss now, but to her, considering the fact that she's still alive, still free, it means she never really did lose.

She'll pay it forward someday.]

Maybe I just needed a new challenge.

Something real.

[As Sombra kept their hands up at her hair, against Amélie's hand, it wasn't long before the sniper shifted her pinky finger and curled one of those braids about it, the rest of her hand kept loose in the hackers. Most likely that Sombra had been going for, if Amélie had thought about it and not simply reacted.

That stopped, though, when Sombra ultimately answered that question Amélie had failed to finish asking.]

Ah. I see now. So it was just to prove that you could.

[Not that she had actually wanted Amélie. Like a window closing, the sniper's expression went flat, eyes detached and as cool as her skin, and she began to pull her hand away. But to one observant enough, that knew how to read the minutia of her mannerisms, that window to what little emotion she possessed wasn't completely shut, seen in the twitch of the muscle along her jaw and the slight tenseness at the corner of her eyes.]

Everyone makes me into what they want me to be: a tool, a weapon, a traitor, one to hate, one to blame, a victim... A challenge. What I am is a fool for believing that you were any different.

[Maybe it was best to inform Talon of the flaw in the system they built into her, as Amélie's growing autonomy was making it harder for her to function at peak mental levels. Things used to be so simple when she didn't think, didn't feel anything, and just did what she was ordered. There was less confusion then; she knew her place.

Her thoughts then drifted to the thin scar just above her temple where Ana Amari's bullet had grazed her. Not for the first time did she wonder if it would have been better if it had found its mark.]

That was a joke. [Sombra reaches up, playfully pinching the back of Amélie's hand between vibrant little claws.] You do remember what a joke is, right?

One of those things people say to lighten the mood when everything gets heavy and honest... [Her voice is low, her violet eyes raised as she closes the last few inches of space between where they stand. After all, she knows what it looks like— someone shielding themselves when they think a hit's coming.]

And terrifying.

I'm not afraid.

[Except she was. Amélie just didn't recall what all fear felt like, which made it harder for her to identify with the way the vast majority of her emotions slipped past her consciousness like water through the fingers.

She didn't move when Sombra drew close enough that she could feel the hacker's body heat, nor did she take her eyes from the ones looking up at her when the sharp twinge from those claws on her skin. Giving ground or reacting to Sombra's movements felt like she'd be conceding to that joke explanation that had been laid out; the sniper didn't believe it. Sombra was the queen of misdirection and distractions, subterfuge and subtlety used to get what she wanted.

The problem was that she didn't know what Sombra wanted. Hell, Amélie didn't know what she wanted.]

[Sombra scoffs, neon talons momentarily curling against azure skin. It's hard to say something— it's harder not to say something— when she was practically on the verge of death only hours ago, holding on by a thread.

One held between slender, blue fingertips.]

And you call me the liar.

[Amélie opened her mouth to reply then closed it. Her brow furrowed briefly as she turned her thoughts more inward. When she spoke, her words were slower. More measured.]

You are awake; there is no reason to be afraid now. [Another pause as her face smoothed out, though it was still very guarded, intentionally returned to its aloof, detached slate.] What is it you want from me, Sombra?

[Her lips purse slightly, as though she's mulling over a tactical approach— a foreign patch of coding— something strange and delicate, that could all but shatter under her fingers if she presses too hard, too fast.

She shakes her head, exhales, her voice lacking its usual bite:]

For you to believe me.

[An unfair request, but...

The truth.]

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