起死回生

竜この道や 行く人なしに 秋のくれ hanzo shimada / overwatch formerly affiliated with citta district delta • outcast

[aeternuming-blog]

[ yo! ]

[ i know that things are still up in the air - and i want to stress that everybody waits for statements from moderators instead of word of mouth from other members - i’ve made a decision! ]

[ in lieu of things, i will be moving lloyd, envy, and liquid to the new group, if it certainly does happen. robin and hanzo will not be following the move, sadly, but that’s not to say that they’re gone forever. if no new group ends up opening, then i suppose i’m done with mfrp for now! thank you to all who have threaded with me; i love you so much! ]

[ i am officially dropping my characters from citta. goodnight, hive city! ]

[torikake-blog]

[ new theme, new icon, new me. ]

[dailymchanzo]

「 Never second best 」

[torikake-blog]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Gods, he was tired.

With a book and some loose-leaf paper under arm, Cyrran entered the bar and breathed a sigh of relief at escaping the summer heat. The bar was a good place to sit at the counter and do some personal work with a drink, his very intention for the approaching evening. He was constantly picking up texts on things he didn’t know about, and taking notes helped him keep busy and attentive.

And having a background of quiet voices was a comfort. He was more prone to getting lost in his head in silence, and the sounds helped him focus.

It seemed, however, that his goal of getting some reading done would have to be put on hold. A familiar face looking in his direction was immediately noted by the elf, and he found a slow smile spreading across his lips. With only a few quick strides, Cyrran slid into a spot beside Hanzo and laughed pleasantly.

❝Indeed it has. I was wondering where you’d gotten off to, Hanzo.❞

Likely back where he came from, but that was an unspoken acknowledgment in the general tone of his words.

the smile that brightens the elf’s features is infectious. hanzo felt his own lips turn upward, something fond in the creases around his eyes and beneath his goatee. elbows planted upon the counter, he sits up a little taller when cyrran perches next to him, glass between his fingers tilted.

“i have been asked that a few times now,” he muses, a weightlessness to his tone. “my return is well-passed, so i feel obliged to apologize for not seeking you out sooner.”

returning here had been depressing, in order to portray the experience as plainly as possible. if hanzo had lead a quiet existence in the hive prior to his unannounced departure, then he had lead one silent this time around. there were no real excuses - merely a force of habit accompanied by a fatalistic hue to his usual outlook. reunions would happen, sooner or later, and he would rather not dwell on who may have left while he was gone, yet to return.

taking a slow, measured sip from his drink, hanzo’s steely gaze shifts to the items that cyrran had brought with him.

“what have you been up to in my absence?”

[torikake-blog]

elemancering:

@torikake liked for a starter;

He’s got his arms crossed waiting in line for an iced drink – the weather is hot and he’s melting, damn it, even if the line itself is snaking outside and really defeating the purpose.

there’s a dude passing next to him – a dude with a bow on his back, and dezhrean reaches out to jostle his shoulder with his own. “ah, i see you are a man of culture as well,” he says, his own bow visible on his back. (the dude’s probably just gonna give him a look and walk away, but he’s acting out to assuage his boredom.)

the grueling heat is somewhat troublesome. nothing hanzo was unaccustomed to maneuvering - a nomad could not be particularly picky about the weather when an opportunity presented itself to stay alive. still, as a lover of colder climates, hanzo could practically feel the dull glaze over his dark eyes as he meandered the streets.

while he isn’t one fond of interruptions, the humidity slows his habitually snappish reaction to being touched unannounced, and hanzo lurches to a halt on the sidewalk.

“what - ”

ah. the archer blinks at the limb of a bow peeking over the pale-haired stranger’s shoulder. straightening up, hanzo quirks a brow at him.

“perhaps so.”

[torikake-blog]

@virassxn​

the atmosphere of this bar was pleasant.

a low-lit, serene hole-in-the-wall establishment, its primary patrons being either world-weary in nature, older in age, or both. rarely was there a commotion, the only instances being ones hanzo heard of from the regulars. of which, he supposed, he had become. when he had returned to hive city, the bartender had given him a mild smile that had made his eyes glint like jewels from behind the counter.

he was a good man, hanzo thought, but focused upon sales. a regular returned was another bill in his pocket. the archer didn’t think much of it.

when the door opens, ushering in the muted tones of the main streets nearby, most of the patrons huddled at the bar or around their favorite tables would lift their heads from hushed conversations or silent contemplation to peer over at the newcomer. hanzo did the same - it was a habit. instinct to keep every aspect of his surroundings in check.

the face, framed by starlit hair, vallaslin just barely visible from the way cyrran has his head turned, captures hanzo’s attention.

“it has been ... a while.”

[torikake-blog]

betterscience:

Moira’s attention is drawn to her arm as she examines it, trying to keep herself turned from what might be behind her. Fingers carefully ran across the pulsing surface, the aching becoming more intense with the touch and causing her to clench her jaw. Moving her hand away to touch her face, she felt the significant lack of wrinkles as well, hand bumping the glasses adorned on her face. Right. She hadn’t fixed that entirely yet either.

Her thoughts were pushed out as soon as she heard the other speak, the words ringing through her ears as her eyes widened. Tears were forming involuntarily, face contorting in anger.

Swiveling around to look at him, she swore that Hanzo had been replaced with her father for a split second, the ghost of her mother standing behind him.

“What have I done!?” she shrieked back at him, eyes a piercing glare at him. “I have done my work. This is what I have spent years working on and working towards!”

The words spit out of her mouth were the same as they had been years ago, the same fight that tore them apart. Her blood was boiling, and the next words the other spoke about staying calm weren’t exactly helping. A little hypocritical as well, given that she was damn sure he wasn’t calm in any regard from both his words and what they’d flung themselves out of.

“Don’t you bloody tell me to calm down,” she hissed, finger raising to point at him. “If ‘staying calm’ were to keep us from moving from shit place to shittier place we would have never left your own subconscious.”

“I don’t fucking know how to get out of this but calming down isn’t the fucking way.”

It physically hurts.

Hanzo says nothing as Moira lashes out at him. He can see the glimmer in her eyes - unshed tears - clear as day, moving his gaze away from her face, despite all training and instinct, to keep from further riling her. Whatever was going on in her subconscious, it was afflicting Hanzo with something he had no understanding of and even little will to perpetuate. A headache, dull in nature, was settling into his skull. When his mouth opens, he’s far more aware of his tongue than he should be.

One broad hand over his mouth stifles whatever words were coming next. Even the man who speaks them does not know what they were to be. Nothing filters through his head when his mouth speaks.

The fury in Moira’s visage - raw, pained, she was hating this even more than he - brings Hanzo to tentative conclusion.

Though she hated the words he spoke, something was forcing them out of Hanzo, and he wondered if it was because she wanted to hear them. For what reason, he could only garner a guess.

His hand drops and he clenches his jaw. Something tired and apologetic enters his gaze. Arms raising, hands motion palm-down toward the earth - a universal ‘sorry.’

The signs he remembers are JSL and rusty at that. Nothing she would understand.

The archer sighs audibly.

[torikake-blog]

pyro-latry:

It takes no more than a few minutes for her to fuss with the buckles and leather, managing to put the piece on. Heading back out, Willow peeks out from the brush around her camp, watching for a few seconds, before popping out to face the other again. Careful hands wrap around her spear, Willow chewing on her lip for a moment for the sake of quelling any anxiety. No fears, not here. 

“Sorry about that. We can get going now. I, this is the best idea I have.” It probably wasn’t anything, there usually wasn’t. Hanzo was the first she’d seen in a long while. There was some tingling in her hand, as if it was fading in and out. Trying not to focus on that, Willow glanced over. 

“Let’s, let’s get going, right? It’s a bit of a walk, but you look fast enough.” A shrug of the shoulders, and she glanced out to the trees. “It’s not a good night to be out late. Dangerous, even.”  

He would ask. He wants to.

Hanzo is left to wait for the girl. When she reemerges, walking on a wooden prosthetic, the young scion’s eyes linger on it. Something about her fake limb captures his attention. Static prickles at the skin of his skins, ankles. His feet burn slightly. This was phantom pain, was it not? Hanzo’s brow furrows and he shifts on his flesh and bone limbs, despite how they protest.

“Don’t ... ” He blinks, grasping his strayed thoughts and jerking them back into his skull. The far-off gaze focuses back in. “Do not concern yourself with my ability. I will be right behind you.”

Cautious of ambush or traps. Of course.

[torikake-blog]

pyro-latry:

A smile is something she can appreciate, and so, Willow falls into a half a smile that lights up her eyes. At least Hanzo’s capable, and somewhat willing to show emotion in her general direction. That, she appreciates.

“I’m pretty sure it nearly killed me. I’ve got a few new scars from it.” She doesn’t go into details yet, considering that it isn’t worth describing the violent battle she’d had with the shadowy figure of her tormentor. “I’ll tell you more later, when things aren’t as happy. It’ll just bring things down.” 

A nod. “Delta’s not the best, really. And I don’t like having to go down there. So, you should come. I’m hardly gonna turn you away.” Her shoulders shrug, a hand twisting her pigtail. “It’s in Kappa. Own room, stuff like that.” 

She had nearly died.

This sours Hanzo. There has always been a mild hatred for the city, deep in his chest, since he had first arrived late last year. Despite his knowledge of the threatening atmosphere, barely staved off by the citizens making the best of their situation, the archer feels personally affronted. Willow had been threatened. Challenged. She nearly died.

Thank the gods for his practiced poker face. His father had not let him down with that skill.

“Very well.”

Hanzo pauses, considering Willow with a straightforward gaze. His words always fail him when it comes to this. After a moment, he finds them, slaps some sense into them. His voice still comes rather hushed.

“Thank you.”

[torikake-blog]

betterscience:

Lost in thought, she had been focusing on surveying their surroundings and making mental notes about this place. She didn’t have any paper, and even if she did when they eventually woke up that would be gone from her hands. Of course, she was snapped back to her senses by what he said.

It was a little too familiar.

Anger quickly encapsulating her, she whipped around to face him, hand grabbing at his collar and pulling him towards her.

“Excuse me,” she barked out, eyes narrowing at him. “No one in my experiments have ever been ‘innocents’—they’re volunteers or myself. Just because you can’t see that—”

Cutting herself off, she looked around her as the scenery was changing again. This time to something she was trying to avoid. They were still outside, but the sea was replaced by grassy pastures that were below their feet as well. They were in the country. Her right arm began to ache, something she hadn’t felt since it was fresh and new.

Since the fight.

“Fuck,” she hissed, letting go of the other. “Fantastic, we’re just cycling through each other’s subconscious.”

Turning away from him, she examined her arm. It was pulsing horribly—just as she remembered. Great. “Don’t bother walking around, nothing fun will come with it.”

A struck chord, a shock of lightning through the sky. It brights light to the sky and Hanzo is momentarily blinded before the city is gone.

The sickness roils in his stomach, angry with Moira and the wild vacillation of the dream. She regards this place with familiarity and Hanzo scoffs. Surely, this was no place Hanzo had ever been before. Someplace similar perhaps. Soft lilac edges at his periphery, but his attention is caught.

“What’ve you done to yourself?”

His voice feels unreal, like it doesn’t come from his mouth. He snaps his jaw shut, something akin to disgust coursing through him. An affliction, something pressing into him before elsewhere. Feelings and words not of his own volition. A hand finds his chest and he presses against his sternum, feeling a seizing grasp there.

“If we are going through one another’s memories, then you need to calm down.” Spoken from a hypocrite. As if panic were not settling into his skull.

This setting was oppressive. Despite wide, open pastures, the sky was like a ceiling, the grass catching at his feet. Now metal.

“What have you done, Moira?”

[torikake-blog]

coluberfoxii:

“Change? Slow? You and I are really from different worlds.” He lifts his cigarette up, thinking about the date and just for how long he’s been in Hive. It’s still way to easy to forget, to confuse the place for a home instead of an experiment.

“I’m just messing with you. You’ve been here long?”

The comment elicits a thoughtful turn in the archer’s gaze. A decade of doing the same thing, living the same way, thinking the same string of thoughts would make change seem slow. Hanzo offers a low hum of acknowledgement.

“I have recently returned. Originally, I arrived the first week of November.” A pause. “And yourself?”

[torikake-blog]

betterscience replied to your post: 

Would be more entertaining were you not so accepting of it.

Coward.

[torikake-blog]

coluberfoxii:

“Shorter than usual but time still flies, I don’t feel any different. though.”

“..Do you always drop in on people like this?”

“It has gone by fast, but change comes slowly, I’ve found.”

The ghost of a smile. He averts his gaze, a bit putt-off. “No, not usually. Pardon my intrusion.”

[torikake-blog]

coluberfoxii:

“..Mmn, so quickly into June already.”

“This year has felt so short thus far.”

[torikake-blog]

I'm here to strangle you.

Well. Get on with it.

[torikake-blog]

betterscience:

“Odd is a perfect way to describe it,” she snapped back at him, expression shifting to anger before back to emotionless just as quickly.

Sighing gently, she decided to move, it seemed like this place wanted to stick to Hanzo’s subconscious more than her own anyway. If she were to guess how it operated, whoever was showing more prominent emotions was the one it targeted—though she wasn’t entirely sure on that hypothesis granted she wasn’t sure what this was.

Other than that she was most definitely asleep before any of this happened.

If it worked like normal dreams, they wouldn’t be here together. Clearly he wasn’t a part of her own subconscious from what she saw. There was no way she would have dreamed about something she didn’t know about. Heading to the door, she made sure the other was with her, humming a bit.

“You are pretty quiet in your dreams, aren’t you,” she spoke once they were outside again, squinting a bit in the sunlight. It was night when she was last out here… This was way too drastic a shift for her.

“I wonder how this place seems to have merged our subconscious’s. The scientists that dragged us here have some fun tricks up their sleeves… I definitely will have to try and run some tests to recreate this later. It might help with coming up with a way to get out of here.”

The aggression with which Moira speaks at first is nearly enough to elicit something equally as virulent from the archer. Hanzo was hanging by a very thin thread. The dream, although all blue skies and calm ocean winds, may as well have been the eye of the storm showing Moira a kind scenery to act as distraction. Apprehension gripped his body, the muscle over his chest and down his spine taut with tension, making breathing onerous in a way that was aggravatingly noticeable.

Tilting his head back, Hanzo looks up at the perfectly clear skies, jaw clenched hard enough to make his ears pop.

A dream? Yes, well, he knew that much. However, Moira’s words establish her independence, herself as a separate entity in all of this. Hanzo’s memories were here, pressing in from all sides and stifling him, but Moira was just Moira. She looked a bit different from what he recalled.

Just great.

“Recreate whatever you wish, but do not involve innocents in it.”

Hanzo shifts his weight between his feet. It was all so very much. The scent of Genji’s blood was heavy in his nose and for all of the seawater in the air, sticking to his skin as if he were on the shore himself, he could not shake it.

The rain begins to fall again. Hanzo feels like he is going to be sick.

“Did you do this?” He rounds on her. The thread is fraying. “If not you, then the scientists. But why are you here?”

[torikake-blog]

betterscience:

The laugh takes her by surprise—that wasn’t a reaction she expected to ever get from him. Her lip twitches a bit, threatening to smile in response. It had really been quite some time since they’d last spoken. Perhaps the absence had gotten to her more than she liked to think.

“What a long trip to get milk to even return empty handed,” she chided, tutting a bit.

“One would think you would be missing a limb or two from the endeavor. Especially since there was no call to let me know the milk getting was becoming harder than expected.”

Shaking her head lightly, she gave a sigh. So many people had left in the blink of an eye, yet all seemed to cluster back together at the same time. It was simultaneously a pain and wholly welcomed.

“I couldn’t even call to check myself—after all, your name deleted itself from my phone.”

Moira continues on and Hanzo turns his gaze to the magazine rack before them, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes and tell her to cut it out. She certainly was dragging this out long enough, but the more she spoke, the more Hanzo remembered. This includes the harsh words he had said to her, whether he was annoyed or otherwise bothered at that moment, it was not proper behavior. Was she chastising him for that?

But it is Moira. He sighs, long and quiet through his nose, as he picks up a health and fitness magazine, picking through it to seem as if he were interested. He would grant her a reserved response.

“If it would make you feel better, I can go across the store and retrieve a carton for you now.” Leafing through the pages, Hanzo’s eyes hardly take in the words he reads. The fact that Moira had worried enough to attempt to call him sticks to his thoughts like meat to a hot pan.

“Unfortunately, I have been assigned new housing. The milk will have to be for you and Willow.”