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writingmask · 8 years ago

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In the Rain (McHanzo Week 2017, Day 1)

Prompt: Day or Night

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1485

Summary: Hanzo seeks some quiet alone time. He finds company instead.

[AO3]

Watchpoint Gibraltar was a busy place. Illegal though the new Overwatch was, there was still plenty of activity within its walls. With agents rushing to and fro from training to missions and back, and even downtime being filled with something or other (usually preceded by “hey check this out” and immediately followed by a dressing down from the good Dr. Ziegler), peace and quiet was rare.

But Hanzo had figured out the one single moment when the base was as quiet as the dead. That moment occurred in the wee hours between night and morning when the rest of his fellow agents were asleep, or at least confining themselves to their rooms. Not being much of a sleeper himself, Hanzo relished the hour or two of solitude. His metallic feet clicked and echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way towards the kitchens for a cup of tea. Thunder sounded, distant and almost gentle through the thick concrete of the walls. A quick glance out a window towards the cliffside saw rain pattering against the glass and rocks.

Hanzo felt his shoulders relax; he enjoyed storms. The thunder soothed his soul, reminding him of the dragons beneath his skin. Were he not certain it’d trip some sort of alarm and disturb his coworkers, he’d allow his charges the freedom to dance in the sky. He felt them stirring beneath his skin in longing and had the sudden sense that it probably wasn’t his decision to make. The dragons would do as they would do; much like cats, dragons tended to think of orders as suggestions.

With a chuckle, he continued about his business and soon had his cup of tea. Steam plumed from the mug warming his hands, and feeling content, he took his prize to the porch of the garden patio overlooking the sea to watch the rain in peace. The dragons murmured quietly, and he calmed them. They could fly when he was safely outdoors. No one needed a repeat of last month’s antique lamp situation, he reminded them firmly. Begrudging agreement answered, though there was an image of his brother’s own dragon in the middle of that particular mess and a sense of great unfairness.

The sound of soft music filtered among the rain, interrupting Hanzo’s silent deliberation. He froze on the threshold of the patio, wondering who was up this early and whether or not he should turn around and find somewhere else. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his coworkers, but he treasured these quiet moments, and most of the other agents were bombastic at best.

“In the twilight, I see them… Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain… When we kissed goodbye and parted.... I knew we’d never meet again…”

He relaxed against the the doorframe at the sound of a rough voice over what he could now identify as a guitar. It figured McCree would be up on a night (morning?) like this. There was no need to flee for further solitude; McCree was one of the few people Hanzo didn’t mind sharing his eventide peace and quiet with. He sighed and made himself comfortable, content to listen. He hadn’t heard this particular song, though he caught the message of lost love easily enough. It was an oddly hopeful sounding thing considering its lyrics.

“Some day when we meet up yonder… We’ll stroll hand in hand again.... And if Hanzo doesn’t come out and sit by me instead of lurking in the door… I’ll be a sad, sad man…”

Hanzo jumped at the sudden switch before laughing and picking his way around the mess of chairs and potted plants towards McCree. “You are ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but that’s why you like me,” McCree retorted, beaming up at him and beckoning at the chair next to him. Hanzo took a seat with a smile and a shake of his head as McCree continued plucking his fingers across the strings of his guitar. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Rarely.” Hanzo turned his eyes to the sky, watching lightning flash above them. The sky looked so close, comfortingly filled with dark, roiling clouds. It obscured the moon and stars, but Hanzo had always found clear nights eerie and empty, a reminder of loneliness. Better to have the clouds as a backdrop for the world. “What about you?”

“Heard the thunder and figured I’d come take a look since I wasn’t doin’ much else,” came the easy reply. By now Hanzo knew the man well enough to hear what he didn’t say. A bad night, then. Or dreaming. He understood. It was something they had in common.

Hanzo settled back in the chair, letting rain and guitar fill the easy silence between them. McCree didn’t seem inclined to resume singing; a shame, though Hanzo had absolutely no intention of letting McCree know that. He felt the tension from the earlier day drain from him, and a small smile formed on his face as he sipped at his tea.

When his brother returned from the dead and extended an invitation to join an illicit group of “heroes,” a night like this was never included in his imaginings. All the same, he couldn’t help but feel thankful. After everything he’d been through, that he’d done, there was something… Cathartic about being able to sit next to a close friend and watch the rain.

He hadn’t even realized he’d dozed off until his left arm twitched with a definite sense of exaggerated patience. The guitar stopped suddenly, and Hanzo opened his eyes as twin lights solidified into the forms of his dragons sitting on his chest, both bearing a questioning, almost begging look on their translucent faces.

“Uh… Hanzo?” McCree’s voice was soft, as though he was afraid he’d scare them away. Hanzo supposed that was a fair reaction; his dragons weren’t quite as sociable as Genji’s. He glanced aside and saw a look of wonder cast in the blue glow of the dragons. Hanzo felt something soften deep inside as he committed that expression to memory. He wasn’t sure why, but it was important. He’d have to contemplate it later when his dragons weren’t imploring him for permission.

He sighed with a grin as he scratched their bearded chins. “Very well,” he answered their silent pleas. “Go ahead.”

A rush of joy echoed from them as they pushed away in a gust of wind that made McCree clasp his hat tight to his head, throwing themselves into the sky to chase each other and weave in and out among the clouds in intricate patterns that rivaled the lightning they danced around.

“Well now ain’t that a sight…” he heard McCree breathe. Hanzo turned, and saw the cowboy still clutching his hat and gaping at the dragons in awe. He watched him for a time, feeling inexplicable pleasure and the dawning delight on his friends face. “Do they do this often?”

“Not as often as they’d like,” Hanzo answered, resettling himself to keep an eye on the lights in the sky. “But it’s safe enough for now.” He saw McCree shake his head out of the corner of his eye, and the guitar sounded once more.

“Y’know,” McCree started contemplatively, “I don’t think you’ve ever told me their names. They do have names, right?”

Hanzo frowned. Had he truly been remiss in actually introducing his dragons? He supposed there were several excuses-- he’d been alone for a long time and the dragons were need-to-know basis, there wasn’t enough time between work, etc.-- but he also supposed none of those excuses mattered at the moment. “That is Inju,” he said, pointing, “And that is Denki.”

McCree went silent for a long moment, and Hanzo thought that was the end of the conversation until he spoke up again. “I know my Japanese is a bit rusty, but don’t those translate to ‘ribbon’ and ‘electric?’”

“I was five,” Hanzo said sharply as heat flooded his face. At the time, he’d thought they were very apt names. After all, they looked like sparking ribbons when he was a child. McCree snorted and stopped playing as he chuckled. Hanzo did his best to appear unamused. “It’s not funny, McCree.”

“No need to be embarrassed,” he chortled in reply, elbowing Hanzo. “It’s cute! I can just imagine lil’ you running around with your dragons!”

Hanzo’s blush spread as he elbowed McCree in turn. “Just play your guitar, cowboy,” he said with as much dignity as he could manage.

“As you wish,” McCree said with a snicker as he took up the instrument again. He let the matter drop as he turned his attention to his music, though Hanzo had the feeling he hadn’t heard the last of McCree’s amusement. No matter. He could handle a little teasing, if it came from McCree. Hanzo relaxed once more, letting his earlier contentment return as he and McCree watched the dragons dancing in the stormy night sky.

#mchanzo #mchanzo week 2017 #overwatch #drabble #kat writes #not my best buuuut #this is the week where i say fuck depression and writer's block #prompts ahoy!

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archivesdiveronarpg · 8 years ago

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Congratulations, FERB! You’ve been accepted for the role of BEATRICE. Admin Bree: I was worried we wouldn’t find someone to bring our beloved Brielle back to us, but Ferb, you did such a lovely job bringing her to life that I couldn’t imagine not giving you the role! She’s a unique character, especially in a setting like this, but you handled her characterization with grace and made her so genuine. Your interview captured her perfectly, and other little things sprinkled throughout your app—like promising herself she’ll put the money she spent on headphones back into her savings—made her feel so real. Well done! Welcome to DiVerona! Your request to change her faceclaim to Aisha Dee has also been accepted. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Hi, I’m Ferb!

Age | I’m Nineteen!

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | I’m as active as I can be, depending on the dashboard (and from what I hear, this RP is super active, so no problem there!) and depending on how my classes are going. It depends on how often I’m in exams and such (finals week will be hell, and I’ll definitely ask for a hiatus). But, I should be online often when there’s not too much going on!

Timezone | MST until June, then I’ll be in the CST again!

Permission | Of course, yes!

In Character

Character | I’m hoping I can get face claim change, to Aisha Dee!

BEATRICE. aka BRIELLE ALEXANDRA KING

What drew you to this character?

Beatrice is my absolute favorite Shakespeare character. I adore her, and when Brielle was originally released, I began an application that was never finished. Portions of this are that app, but much of it has been edited now that she’s been revealed as a member of the Spades. I think Brielle’s fierce individuality and independence are what originally led me to fall for, to think of her as the combative woman who Beatrice was in the play isn’t completely accurate, but also isn’t anything near inaccurate. I think of Brielle as a complement to Beatrice almost, a girl who’s fiercely independent nature and kind words can exist in a harmony that leaves her almost unpredictable. Basically, I love the idea of a character who feels a bit like a blank slate, a new page ready to be filled with a lot of the future and much less of the past, and that’s why I was drawn fiercely to Brielle.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

SPADES - “Why’d you join, anyways? It just doesn’t seem like your kind of thing. How much better did it make your life, how much easier were your sorrows? Or was it simply a matter of money, like the horses when you were young?”

The Spades are vital to the growth of Brielle, though Brielle is not so vital to the growth of the Spades, now that they’ve entered Verona. Beginning as a sleeper agent and feeling like one of the most powerful people in the world was intoxicating. Even though she doesn’t need the group to live her life, even though she could simply go back to racing horses and running the wire, she liked that feeling of being on top. So, the plan for her now is to try and climb ranks in the Spades, to prove her worth to the group and to make sure they truly appreciate her. She’s not meant to stay a soldier forever, especially after all she’s sacrificed for the Spades themselves. She wants what she’s due, and that’s a higher rank than simply “soldier”.

CHASING THE WIRE - “You’re run a billion scams and you’ll run a billion more, but the Wire is your most common. This scam’s one of the oldest in the book, so why do you adore it so much, what makes that your go-to moneymaking opportunity?”

Horse racing has been Brielle’s occupation since she began barrel racing at nine years old, and now that she’s in Verona, caring for the horses is the cover that she’s adopted. She continues her old ways, never stopping to think about what that may get her. She’s a soldier, but that spark of independence that will never die holds onto Brielle, pushing her to be the best. The richest, namely. She pulls the Wire as often as possible, although it often takes several weeks to pull off a successful one, Brielle has practically perfected the wire. It’s simple, she grooms and cares for horses, trains them, and that gives her the edge to make the most off of clueless race tracks. This is a big deal for her, as her involvement with the Spades will bring down some of her income from races and the Wire. She’ll have to give something up, and this is probably the first thing to go. And for a girl as independent as Brielle, she’s not going to like having to give up something that she’s good at, for the benefit of the team.

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona?

”The stables.” Brielle states, the words almost automatic. Of course, the answer is easy, and the question less of a real one and more of an obvious kind of joke.

“My horses are what got me this far, and they’re such gentle creatures. It’s nice to get out of my head and into my work. I don’t have to second guess myself there.” Brielle states, and she frowns a little bit, her mind wandering as she thinks of the animals she’s lost.

She thinks back to the time she first met Faron Vasilev, his offer of being her benefactor if in exchange she moved to Verona to help scope out the competition. It had seemed like the very best deal then, and still seemed like the perfect situation now. The Spades had been, in some ways, good to her. They’d gotten her the job in the stable of champion racehorses and they’d gotten her a residence in Verona.

She knew she should be more grateful for their kindness, but she also knew that she’d done most of the heavy lifting herself. In her heart, Brielle knew that she could have done it on her own, and maybe it would have taken far longer, but one day she would have climbed the ladder and arrived in the same place, perhaps even in the same set of stables.

“It’s more about being on my own, doing what I love and what I’m good at, than where I am. If the stable were across town, it would still be my favorite place. It’s almost as if it’s a symbol of what I’ve accomplished, and maybe that’s what makes me so sure about it.”

What does your typical day look like?

“A typical day?” Brielle turns towards the stable hand that her employer had hired. “Here, at least, things are easy. Feeding Benny here,” she pauses here, patting the side of her favorite horse with a blinding smile, “plus making sure he’s ready to race.We go for a few practice laps, just to see if he’s doing any better than before or what we need to do to improve.”

She thinks of her days spent in the monotony of the stables, and knows that perhaps as a child she would never have considered her father’s profession. That would have been a grave mistake, of course. Her days are filled with no amount of mistakes, now, Brielle has grown too careful for childish things such as that.

“Then, I go home and get to real work.” She’d never reveal it to the stable hand, for she had no idea his alignment, but her work at home is a bit more devious than her work here. “I’m like a fly on the wall,” she jokes, “that applies here, too. Especially if you choose not to do the job correctly.”

The stable hand laughs awkwardly, but Brielle’s laugh is a little more genuine in comparison. “It’s a joke, don’t worry too much about it. You should be fine, especially since they’re very picky with who they hire.”

She goes back to brushing the mane of Benny with a smile, and when she’s finished, turns back, “Bring me that water bucket, please?” She asks, and watches as the nervous kid scrambles to bring it to her, and lets her mind wander to faraway places.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Beatrice laughs outright at the question, “It’s a challenge, a battle that neither side will ever win.” She turns towards the woman who’d asked the question and faced them outright.

“It’s a war. Am I really expected to enjoy it? I think mainly, it gets in the way of my life, now. St. Petersburg was much easier to run all over.” Brielle smiles, knowing fully well that she didn’t know all too much about St. Petersburg in the way everyone else

Brielle’s on a different side, neither Montague or Capulet, she’s an agent of her own design (and Faron Vasilev’s, but that’s not the point). “Anyways, I don’t believe in taking sides for the losing teams. If you’re going to win in life, you’ve got to choose the winning ticket correctly to get anywhere. It’s just like gambling. Except, I don’t play with the odds, I only bet on what I know will win.” Brielle lets out a laugh, her eyes glittering with pride in the Spades.

“That’s why I didn’t choose either of those groups, because they’re both going down if they’re not careful. They’ll destroy each other before a peace can be met, or they’ll be destroyed by some mysterious newcomers from the north. It’s a shame, honestly, so much talent and hard work, all for nothing.”

In-Character Para Sample:

Fingertips move along the panes of glass in car windows, cutting into the raindrops resting on them and leaving a long, thin line from the beginning of Brielle’s walk to the end. Music turned up far too loud screams inside an apartment building, but Brielle pays it absolutely no mind, instead focusing on the softer music whispering into her ears through an old set of headphones she’d bought at the St. Petersburg airport. She’d sworn that as soon as she set foot in Verona, that whenever her very first paycheck arrived, she’d put the twenty dollars back into her savings account, and wouldn’t spend money on things that were completely unneeded.

It was a stayover from her childhood, never quite having enough money to get by, that taught her the principles of her thriftiness. Her clothes were a good example, too. Her shirt once belonged to her mother, and the heavy jacket had sat on her father’s shoulders for many years. Her shoes were ones she’d stolen from her little sister, boot styled high heels that she’d grown out of in junior high that still fit the petite feet of Brielle with only a small amount of discomfort.

She was going to go to the Tempest Lounge, to perhaps find someone who had pertinent information about the goings of either mob, something she could feed to Faron. Hopefully, the Spades would join her in Verona soon. Hopefully, she wouldn’t feel so alone in a sea of faces that passed by, only a few catching her attention.

She felt so young, yet so old at the same time, like a child who’d already seen far too much. And maybe that’s exactly what she was, a child who’d forever been tormented by poverty, who never truly grew up but never truly was young. She was caught in a limbo, an outsider in a city full of those who carried native accents.

The diner looked as inviting as any place in Verona, and reminded her of home in a way nothing in the city had. It had a retro, almost American theme. Brielle walked in slowly, looking around for a familiar face, and she could have sworn she’d seen her baby sister there, laughing with a milkshake straw in her mouth and enchanting whatever boy had settled on being in love with her that week. For a second, Brielle was home.

But then she noticed Catherine Daly, a member of Capulet clan and a girl who’d caught Brielle’s eyes multiple times within the course of collecting information. She’d met the girl in person, had shaken her hand a few times even, and so the decision was nearly automatic. Brielle needed a companion, and there was Catherine, just like fate.

“Mind if I sit here?” Brielle asks, a soft smile playing on her features. Catherine’s mirrors her own, maybe a promise of a friendship if all goes well. Catherine nods, and Brielle takes the seat across from her as quickly as she can.

“So, what brings you here?” Catherine asks, and Brielle reads the uncertainty in her voice easily. They’d always say she could read people without even having to try, and maybe her friends back in St. Petersburg were right.

“Well, I was going to go to the Tempest Lounge, but… It seemed pointless? I don’t even know why, it just… Didn’t seem like what I wanted to do tonight. And, so I took off on a walk and stumbled upon this place. It reminded me of my home even before I walked in. It’s a little weird, how an American restaurant ended up in both Italy and Russia.” Catherine laughs at Brielle’s little joke, and suddenly they’re like kindergarten friends.

Trading stories is easy, from their childhoods and from their time in Verona. “When I turned sixteen, my sister was convinced I was going to leave them for good, because I could finally get honest work. So, she held me hostage. I wish I was kidding, but she locked me in our bathroom and wouldn’t let me leave until I completely promised to not leave without saying goodbye. My aunt had up and left in the night months before, and she was absolutely distraught at the thought that I’d do the same thing.” Catherine was laughing at the lively story told, and Brielle could feel her eyes glittering with wonder at the fact that she’d found a kindred soul in such a mad city.

They talk for hours, eating chicken fingers and drinking milkshakes. (“Comfort food.” Brielle assures Catherine. “It’s good for the soul.”)

“You know, you’re really easy to talk to, like… I’ve never met anyone I was able to just throw my life at like that.” Brielle states, as the diner seems like it’s beginning to close up, and Brielle realizes they’re one of the three tables still taken.

“I should get going, but… We should do this again sometime? I can give you my phone number, and we can, like, hang out or something.” Brielle smiles at Catherine, and maybe in a way she’s fallen a bit in love but in another way she’s just made her first real friend in Verona.

Catherine’s the first person she won’t call Faron about, and Brielle’s happiness at that fact is overwhelming.

Extras: This app ended up being super last minute, but I wanted to thank you guys for the reserve!

#accepted #accepted: beatrice

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