#ryuujinblade

[norahuntress-blog]

❘❙❚ DATAPOINT: @ryuujinblade

❘❙❚ 　　 Throughout her travels, Aloy has met with Oseram soldiers and Banuk shamans, Eclipse warriors and Metal Devils. She has herself slain an entity of chaos, created to destroy all life, and seen firsthand the horrors of the Faro creature that tore the ancient world of the Old Ones to shreds. She has seen so much, and yet... she has never seen anyone or anything quite like this.

　 　 　 Although she has no weapons to bear, Aloy adopts a defensive stance. She has fought too many machines, too many warriors, and the being before her looks like some strange combination of both. Though her body acts, she forces herself to keep a neutral tone. “So, is that armor, or should I be awed by the machinery? Not that it isn’t impressive, if that’s what it is, but it’ll take more than that to impress me.”

[timeraced-blog]

     Yet another spark of familiarity drags her attention through the crowd, weaving in and out between figures, uncharacteristically lithe in stark contrast to the regularly bold and uncaring manner of darting about the streets of King’s Row while others often opened the way for her. Comfort is found in the unusual- pathways painted just for her or conflicts clashing atop roofs- and the neon lights and metallic glare is no exception to that sentiment.

     Hands reach out to pull herself forward, her height refusing yet again to aid in her endeavors as she peeks about to catch sight of the all too familiar robotic form who has intermingled all too well within the clusters of people. Stumbling about Lena finally collapses forwards, guiding hands catching at his shoulder to steady herself before straightening her messy attire, patting her jacket straight. Finally, she flashes him a grin.

          “Green suits you! It's slick and classy. At least, compared to that dark and brooding theme that you, Jesse, and Commander Reyes had- you lot were quite the edgy bunch.”     // @ryuujinblade  ❤ ‘d for a starter

[model9s-blog]

                                  [ @ryuujinblade ]. . .

        “FINALLY ANOTHER UNIT!” 9S speaks too soon, only detecting the cyborg before he lays eyes upon the man. “THIS IS 9S REPORTING IN --” He is now faced to faced with the ninja, eyes wide as lips gape in awe, this clearly wasn’t a yoRHa model. enemy or ally?  what he picked up from his scanner was a mixture of man and machine, so humanity was still somewhere left within the soul of this one. “WHO’RE YOU? A-AH I DIDN’T MEAN TO MISTAKE YOU FOR SOMEONE ELSE BUT YOU’RE BEING PICKED UP ON MY SCANNER.”

[ehrecht-blog]

♞ || Typically, danger follows him like the plague, or perhaps it is he who FOLLOWS danger? Either way, Sector oo3 is where he stands, a good shoulder above everyone else, yet not INTIMIDATING enough to deter potential attackers. No, with good nature etched into his features like stone, he attempts to chase off burglars, despite a voice in the back of his head — and one sounding like a certain medic, at that – chiding him about his recklessness. Regardless of his aging body or not, citizens NEED protecting, and Reinhardt will do just that.

The knight isn't doing as well as he'd like; of course he's in a weaker state of being now. No armour, no PROPER hammer, just his fists and his courage. He grabs a man by the scruff of the neck, only to have a fist shoved into his gut. Not a punch, but a STRIKE from a dragon's claw, or so it feels like it, with the German staggering under the force of the slightly smaller male. The knight sees another dragon now, but a FRIENDLY one —- despite the unreadable cyborg mask hiding any emotion that could be. For a fraction of a second, the older male is SHEEPISH, yet feelings of an embarrassed nature disappate near immediately upon recognising features. He HARDLY cares about the mess he's made upon being reunited with another friend.

❝Genji!❞ Practically staggering to his feet, Reinhardt wobbles as he addresses the other agent of Overwatch. ❝I will BUY you a new drink. Please, I insist!❞ He scowls at the men he's fighting with. ❝. . . After this—-❞

@ryuujinblade ♥'d for a starter

[photonprojecting-blog]

@ryuujinblade

❖ Neither man nor Omnic, Genji Shimada was something of an anomaly in her line of work. Not in the world she came from, but she didn’t frequent contact with cyborgs. Herself had a prosthetic arm but the extent of the damage done to Genji Shimada required full cybernetic replacements.

She knew of the reports. Just how much of him had been destroyed, and while she wasn’t privy to medical records (she did not make it habitual in breaking the law - all she had learned had been passed to her by her Vishkar superiors) she knew that without Angela Ziegler he would have died. No other doctor have the talent nor the skill to do what she had done.

Satya had worked with him once when Vishkar had lent her to Overwatch. “Mr. Shimada,” she greeted respectfully, her voice neutral. “What a surprise it is to encounter you here.” Not the most fortunate of circumstances, yet she could use a few...allies here. Not friends, of course. She didn’t really have friends, did she?

[mechgame-blog]

“Super cool robot cyborg dude that glows green...” Yep, can’t be anyone but him. “Genji!” It’s good to see a familiar face. “You look pretty comfortable.” That is to say, he doesn’t exactly seem concerned with being trapped here at all in the slightest. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t really have any facial expressions to show that he’s displeased, but still! 

“What’s up with that? Aren’t you like, mad that they took away all your cool ninja stuff?”

@ryuujinblade 

[slipxstreamed]

@ryuujinblade

“Genji! Is that you, love?” Tracer called out as she blinked over to one of the former Overwatch agents. “You don’t know how relieved I am to see you’re here too!” 

[sonzaisurus]

@ryuujinblade

     so he sat-- but one man, of impassive countenance and blanched complexion riddled with days old bruises and cuts now scabbed over, all left to breathe with not a single bandage dressing his wounds; a face that told a wordless story. His shoulders seemed strangely light without the gourd, now resting beside him on the seat, the feeling like an old friend he’d long been without. For some time now, the young Kazekage had been seated in this silence, his heed trained upon his mug, hand on standby in a fist beside it on the table. 

                                           I shouldn’t be here.

     With that reality rearing its head once more, his eyes closed beneath its weight. After a minute, the pressure subsided, and his gaze returned, fingers unfurling to take the mug into his hold. It warmed his palm, but before he would drink, he shifted his sights aside and out the window. The horizon was bleak and grey, he thought.

                     ... Will my own world seem so dark, when I return?

     He took a sip. It was hot, but a pleasant taste.