#moribundr

[chronal-anomaly]

@moribundr asked:

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜

"I'm not lucky," The protest fell from her quick, tone mumbling in defense. Weapons had glanced against her skin, bullet slicing through a top layer of skin. It bled sluggishly, clotting together and breaking open with every movement as Gabriel looked down at it. Shoulder cant awkwardly up at him, Lena sat in a quiet corner of the transport while the remainder of crews worked to get the ship off the ground. "I'm just good like that. Just pure skill, commander."

It was a combination of the two, with a small amount of miracle folded in. Forced slow, guarding the woman that relied on Lena to get safely across the no-mans-land that made up the battlefield, the bullet glanced along her bicep from behind, bisecting the skin. A recall would leave the woman stranded, and thusly, Lena endured.

Depositing the woman somewhere that could be considered safe where a medic could take care of her, Lena staggered to the corner of the transport and waited for a medic to open up. Head woozy with pain and blood loss, it took her a moment to recognize Gabe's presence.

"'ave seen worse." Lena compared, argumentative tone giving her some kind of life for the moment despite her slumped form against the nearest truck. "I just, I just need to rest it off. It'll be fine."

[amadaans]

@moribundr

she knows what he's doing — being difficult on purpose, trying to test her limits. it's what they do with one another, have for years. they test one another's limits, try to push the boundaries they've created for each other, which aren't very many to begin with. it's something she's used to, but it doesn't mean there isn't annoyance and impatience there at times.

she watches as he begins to shed his things, watching as he drops them to the floor. she could bristle at the messiness, but knows if she does he'll have a satisfaction that will only annoy her. so she keeps still, keeps her expression neutral.

it's only when he rolls up his shirtsleeves that she raises a brow, looks at the dark smoke that emanates from the man before her. "i've seen worse," she agrees, finally rising from her spot. she comes to him, hand open to look at his arm. "it could also be worse, but it's a good thing you came in. let me take care of this." of him, always caring for him.

[amadaans]

@moribundr

should siebren be there when sombra's working, when there's something a bit secret going on? probably not, but he's feeling a bit overwhelmed with his mind, unable to get it to quiet. sombra tends to help, chatters to him and takes his mind off, well, his mind. it's nice, comforting in a way he doesn't think he'll be able to explain, certainly not to reaper.

still, he seems to remember the man behind the mask today. wonders what happened that led him to this point. it's why he questions it, but it's gone the moment reaper speaks, the moment siebren realizes he shouldn't be here. he makes no move to leave, though.

"are we playing a game?" he glances to sombra, who's now busy working, and looks back to the masked man. he doesn't remember doing as such, but perhaps they has been earlier. "do you want to join us?" he gestures to an empty chair, as he's floating in the air.

[buabloomed]

"With all due respect, which is none."

𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 (accepting)

And here we go--the Reaper's recalcitrant attitude gets stale after a while. Niran is no saint, nor is he beholden to the Reaper's quicksilver moods. In fact, since he saved the Reaper's hide, it's him that should be beholden, thank you! The architect simply shrugs, tosses out his petal platform, and holds tight as he's lifted up, up, up.

Leaning over, he cups his hands over his mouth and shouts down, fake apology sweeter than sugar. ❝ I'm sorry, I just can't hear you from so high up. Take care~ ❞

[amadaans]

@moribundr sent: 60 / dealers choice for an uncooperative starter.

rules are something that moira deems optional. more often than not, at least. direct orders tend to be handled much the same way — something moira can decide whether or not she wants to follow.

this is the third time commander gabriel reyes has commanded her to do something that she is outright ignoring. she has better things to do than work with dr. ziegler, who will only stifle moira in the lab and put down any and all suggestions that moira has to offer.

it's clear the two do not like one another, so why subject them to each other?

"your annoyance is unbecoming." she says this with her back turned to him, instead typing on her computer an update to her latest experiment.

[chrcmatics]

@moribundr liked for a starter.

" so... "

she drops into a crouch next to him, following his line of sight for a moment ; seeing what he sees, honing in on their target the same way he does, only to divert her attention back to her unwilling companion with a groan as she flexes her shoulders, vertebrae popping.

" do you just... do this for six hours? do you take bathroom breaks? do you even need bathroom breaks? "

at his answering silence, sombra rolls her eyes, settling once more into what she's internally coined as the stalker pose, melding once more into the shadows.

" sheesh. just trying to break the ice, y'know? since you're technically my boss now and all. "

[vastiitas]

words aren't my thing. / from reyes

A haughty humor spits itself from his lungs, wad-like. It comes out chuffed and scoffing, a bark that buckles laugh lines along eye corners. Jesse's head ducks, shaking, and his eyes fall to pebble-dust scattered around his boots. There's a moment's worth of chuckling consideration before he flings his gaze back up to the commander, grin wedged crooked in his features like a lopsided picture frame.

"No fucking shit."

[strikecommanded]

❛ everyone puts on a show for you. so i’m sorry if my performance wasn’t good enough. ❜

THE WORDS STING A BIT —-— but unfortunately he knows they’re true. it was hard talking to people with his position, everyone always put on that act. always tried to get on his good side. but gabriel… he never held back. it’s why jack tries to talk to him when he can. he holds the other’s words in a HIGH REGARD. jack doesn’t want a show, he doesn’t want to be praised when he is just existing. and he wants that to be clear. “ — i don’t want you to perform. ” he admits. “ i don’t like all that rehearsed shit everyone else spews. i just want you to be honest. ”

asking for honesty could end up being a MISTAKE. but at this point it’s worth it: he needs to know the truth. “ do you think i should dye my hair? ” the once golden blond was slowly starting to gray over time. and part of him is paranoid it won’t mix well with his PUBLIC IMAGE. “ or is that the worst idea i’ve ever had. ”