LEGION INBOX

[goddamngrenades]

York here, leave a message at the tone.

Comments

Post-aftermath

[nofortunateson]

After he gets out of medical, North does his best to keep busy - both for his own sake, and because ever since the fight, Theta's been . . . off. Quiet. So much so that North is starting to worry, especially given that his AI doesn't seem to want to talk about what's tearing him up.

It's something to do with whatever happened with Maine, he guesses. And North tries reassuring Theta for his own part that he'll never let that happen, never let anyone take him.

If anything, that just makes him quieter - burrowed into datafeeds as far as he can curl from touching the synapse between them. He doesn't want North seeing it when he runs the encounter over and over, obsesses over inflections and reflections and shifts in body weight. He can't let that happen again. Even- even if he's not close to being Cortana. He has to try to be better.

Post-aftermath

[goddamngrenades]

Wireless access of ports that are not their own is- difficult when integrated into York's implant but quite possible while in his little robotic body. Enhanced projection and wireless connectivity make communication a matter of thought.

A quiet, cool green ping is sent to Theta- a quiet digital knock, an inquiry. Seeing Cortana is...

An experience. Seeing the Meta- what their brothers became? What they never shall be? Unsettling.

[nofortunateson]

Pings from other AI are still new to Theta. His closest equivalent before now has just been hails routed through the allowed intermediary of FILSS. It startles him out of his most recent run and he considers it, almost hides or dismisses but ... maybe Delta has important information.

He responds with protocol more than words, the I-read-state-your-purpose milisecond thought of a digital question mark and a communication channel opened, re-assembling the simulation from the top.

[goddamngrenades]

Theta. It's a gentle nudge- an almost concerned bent to the otherwise stoic AI's projected sense of voice. Too much time in York's implant over the past few years made AI to AI contact...odd. HE treats each interaction like a conversation now.

Perhaps it makes him more human or is inefficient.

Do not do this to yourself.

After time shenanigans; voice

[unrecovered]

[It's the first time in a good long while that Wash has sounded this hesitant; then again, this kind of conversation tends to be prime blackmail material, so it's not something he likes to talk about to just anyone. But he's way out of his depth, and he needs help, and like it or not, York is the best person to talk to about this sort of thing.]

Hey. Can I talk to you?

After time shenanigans; voice

[goddamngrenades]

Sure. [ Any distraction for whatever his younger, dumber self did- or the sergeant that is still kicking him int he back of the head, would be fantastic. ] You want me to come to you, or do you wanna come to the bar?

[unrecovered]

The bar. I need a drink.

[goddamngrenades]

I'll have a cold one waiting for you.

text; after time ripples and mind slayer

[agnominal]

Are you accepting visitors?

text; after time ripples and mind slayer

[goddamngrenades]

Sure, swing on by. I'm kinda. Processing but you're always welcome.

text > action

[agnominal]

Very well. I will be there shortly.

[ As himself, no less. Everything is done and behind them, the threat of psychic assassination passed, and a great deal on his mind.

The beach, with Sombra. The vision of the In-Between. This has been lingering in his mind for some time now, and if he doesn't have a definitive answer for himself soon, he'll drive himself to distraction. Which serves no one, really.

So it is that he knocks on the door before allowing himself inside the now familiar confines of York's hideaway Texas homestead. ]

action

[goddamngrenades]

[ York's settled on the sofa, Delta's chip plugged in securely. A common reaction to stress he's found but they're not- okay they are codependant but Sam coming in is better. A distraction, a welcome change of pace. Someone they can focus on that's not connected to anything more than a drunken mistake (that he was warned for) and Taylor...

Yeah this is gonna be awkward.

But they're both themselves so that's a step ahead from where they were last time. He reaches up to knock the window to get Sam's attention and wave him in. ] Door's open.

After Movie Night VI | Audio

[unrecovered]

So, how'd it go?

After Movie Night VI | Audio

[goddamngrenades]

We talked, things are cool. [ They are bros, bros is fine. ] How're you?

[unrecovered]

Did you romance him sweetly and call him honey bear?

[THE NORTH REMEMBERS, ASSHOLE]

Voice

[goddamngrenades]

It's not what I do anymore for one- and he's more of a mocha bear than a honey bear-


And. No. [ He doesn't sound terribly put out by that. They're good how they are, right? Right. ] We've talked and decided to be friends- and I don't wanna hear any shit from you about that, okay?

Morning After - Action

[agnominal]

[ Locus does not often sleep soundly. It's something a surprise when his eyes flash open and see the light of day filtering through the window, having slept through the night untroubled for the first time in...well, years.

He quickly tenses, however, when he notes that this is not his bed. Brief confusion clouds his thoughts as he rakes his gaze over the room before he notes a pair of arms around his waist, warm and heavy.

Oh.

So that...that had been real, after all. ]

[goddamngrenades]

[ He hasn't slept this well without delta in years- and yet he's dead to the world, curled close to the source of warmth in his bed, burrowing closer with the barest of sighs. This. This is contentment. A solid, lazy kinda wakefulness that gradually lifts him from out cold to vaguely snuffling against Locus' shoulder. ]

[agnominal]

[ He should have been up hours ago. But it's difficult to pry himself away with York nosing at him like that. Locus hums, a deep sound that cuts the silence of the room, despite its softness. ]

You're awake then, I take it?

at the very tail end of the last plot/post plot timeline

[vata]

[It's a digital ping in his mind this time— not a typical omnicomm system reroute like Sombra usually relies on— a sentient presence slipping in with practiced precision to settle down into his cybernetic modifications alongside Delta.

Normally she'd ask first, but...no, actually, she wouldn't. And there's nothing normal about their situation right now, anyway.]

Hey. You done playing hero yet?

[goddamngrenades]

[ Well that's. New. He and Delta both have a very brief moment of visceral panic because this is a connection that no one else has ever dug around in ever but-

It's warm and familiar and violently purple, tasting of seasalt and tequila. Responding is a little of him, a little of Delta, and a lot of affection. ]

Never, but I always got time for you when you want me.

[vata]

Didn't scare you, did I?

[Because if she did— and she can feel that dissipating twang of something sharp— she's very, very proud of herself.

But then again, he likely already knows. It's like the skittering touch of her claws along the back of his neck, though she's not really there.]

text

[agnominal]

She's gone.

[goddamngrenades]

D hasn't been able to find anything.

[agnominal]

Then it is likely she will not return.