▶ TDM .001

[prismods]

Cybernetic dream, something like you've never seen

QUICK LINKS ⬤ navigation ⬤ faq ⬤ world ⬤ moonblessings

"Michael Sembello - Automatic Man (original music video)" (Watch on YouTube)

▶ Lisa Frank's LSD Fun House
anytime, anywhere on the moon Iris | top

Everything is darkness except for dim lights sparkling in the distance, a faint gleam that greets you as you start to unfurl from your dormant state. Your body is hemmed in by shards of crystals, gently sparkling and possibly pricking your skin. The surrounding landscape is dyed in the pinks and purples of the dusk filled with crystals protruding from the ground, some as large as a skyscraper. Throat parched and skin dry and aching, you grope your body in alarm to make sure your possessions are still in place. This is far from home— perhaps a dream? You pinch your skin and slap your cheeks, yet nothing seems to do the trick. Searching for answers only rewards you with an endless expanse of purple dust as far as the eye can see. You have four options: one, panic; two, soil yourself; three, admire it all then soil yourself; or four, go into survival mode. Eventually, you’ll realize that you’re not alone.

A ⬤ As you traverse the near-barren landscape, you feel something sting your skin. It's small and subtle at first, then you finally catch sight of it: an elegant, crystalline mosquito buzzing around from the corner of your eye. However, a pest is still a pest. After a while, marks near your welts begin to form strange patterns on your skin, mimicking ancient runes. Each rune has with it a particular side-effect that may hinder you on your journey:

✾ The Mark of the Enchanter: Hallucinations, hallucinations galore. Your character will see everything and anything their imagination can conjure and will have difficulty separating reality from fiction.
₪ The Mark of the Destroyer: Limbs start to cease their function, causing you to stumble or try and get around one-handed. Other certain body parts may be affected as well. Look at the bright side: you can stop worrying about jiggle physics and hiding your fear boner.
⍢ The Mark of the Sinner: Your hunger, your thirst, your fatigue and your desire are at an all-time high. Your impulses are rabid and uncontrollable. Maybe you experience only one of those symptoms. Maybe you experience them all. All you know is that you want relief now.

These effects will eventually clear up with a bit of accidental or purposeful physical contact with another person, making you wonder if there was anything wrong with you at all.

B ⬤ Hunger starts to gnaw at you vigorously. Perhaps you consider hunting the moon's creatures to sate your hunger. That's when you see it: a thick, meaty, juicy meal on legs. No, we're not talking about Alex Louis Armstrong. A wild silver-white pegasus runs across the purple landscape, its hair billowing in the wind as its hooves smack loudly against the ground. Try and shoot it, and you may find your efforts curtailed by its legendary rage. Eyes aglow and wings beating up a storm, this pegasus is no dainty horse. Two thousand pounds of pure muscle swoop down and charge at you, all blades and ammunition deflecting off its impenetrable skin. Taming appears impossible; it will buck anyone away and leave a sizable horn- or hoof-shaped hole in them for their efforts. Hunting it, however, should be easier. Relatively.

C ⬤ Or you may decide that you'd like to take a drink in the prismatic waters. A small pond can be found just a few miles away from where you first awoke, but gazing into it reflects what appears to be a window into your own world. You see the faces of loved ones or at least someone very close and familiar to you gathered around your prone body, shaking it frantically as though to try and rouse you, yet your image lies frozen and unresponsive, not even a whisper of life running through you. Did you die in your world? Is this your afterlife? The questions start to pile up along with the gnawing dread that you may never return home again.

▶ Camp Nowhere
anytime, anywhere on the moon iris | top

Time moves strangely when you're trapped on a moon with no sun to guide you. Hours feel like days, and days feel like weeks. Travelling has rendered you weak and tired. Luckily, a few crystal formations in the shape of a cavern may offer you a small place refuge as you decide to nap. You notice a few artifacts left over from previous explorers.

D ⬤ A comm unit abandoned within the cavern will display the former owner's idol obsession. As you tap the buttons indiscriminately, a holographic screen will appear, and you will see a fabulous recorded concert featuring three bubbly young ladies in animal print, singing to you about something called Cordis, a cat, and a bag of gems. Does this make any sense to you? Probably not, but the beat is catchy. You may even find yourself tapping a foot along to it. Don’t worry. We know it’s plastic love.

E ⬤ There's a small cooler-like container of preserved powdered food bags labeled with only the word “Edible” that can be safely consumed. Although the powder tastes as bland as you’d expect, it’s oddly filling, sating either hunger or thirst. But who will be the first — and the bravest — to try eating them?

F ⬤ A strange, pointed instrument is among the effects found in the cavern. It's silver, long, and thin with a curved end and a light. When you grip it with warm hands, it seems to vibrate enthusiastically and comes in three settings indicated by a frowny face, a neutral face, and a happy face. What could it mean exactly? No one knows, but you can fiddle with it to your heart's desire. Just don't ask yourself where it's been before. You don't want to know.

▶ Interstellar Action Force Assemble
prisma, iris | top

Over a day has passed when a group of people find you worse for wear. Some are full of uncertainty and fear while some are full of curiosity and excitement. They claim that they are scientists from the planet Prismatica here to investigate the sudden appearances of rainbow crystals in the skies. That means you and the others they’ve located within the area. You are all a surprising find to them, and they are quick to load everyone in their transport vehicles for examination and questioning.

You all may have your usual inquiries — Where are we? Who are you? What's going on? Why are the pegasi so ill-tempered? — and the Prismals are almost too eager to answer. They do have questions on their own, so it’s only fair to trade. They tell you about their world as they poke and prod you, trying to understand what you are and how you came into their land. If they’re not trembling in fear, some of them may ask you odd and invasive questions in return, such as what the rate at which your body achieves thermoregulation is, how long your refractory period is, and if you would be willing to submit various kinds of body fluids to them. It's up to whether you wish to comply or protest.

G ⬤ If you react violently, you will be restrained and nerfed with a specialized neurotransmitting gun that releases a numbing agent through the top of your spine. They came prepared, so have fun with that! In any case, conscious or not, you’ll be brought into one of the transport vehicles. If you choose to peacefully cooperate, you’ll be provided any necessary first aid and a refreshing drink to help you recuperate after the rough time you had for the past few days. Each transport vehicle has a few small rooms to rest in, but due to the limited space, you’ll have to snuggle up with someone else on that bunk bed. Unfortunately, the moonshine fruit the ship is also carrying in its cargo has an extremely sweet smell that’s been permeating through certain areas of the ventilation system… Taking a whiff of it may inebriate you for the rest of the trip.

H ⬤ It’s a bumpy ride as terrain vehicles draw over various crystal formations until you see a large dome-like structure up ahead. Within its confines lies the seat of the Prismatica's government, Prisma. It’s a bureaucratic wet dream: skyscrapers practically touch the upper surface of the dome, windows glimmer with a prismatic sheen as daylight hits them, and small ships can be seen flying to and from its spaceport. The scientists, members of the Lunar Scientia, usher you into their facilities for tests. Arrivals are likely to twitch, tremble, and panic as Lunar Scientia fellows take and broadcast every embarrassing, unfiltered detail about you — height, weight, age, strange odors, estimated frequency of sexual activity —- to one another. These scientists will ask you politely to undress, too, but understand if you don't want to. They're especially fascinated by the readings of pure Chroma inside you, whispering among one another excitedly about the possibility of the new arrivals being a new moon species. What should they call them? Moonborne? Moonblessed?

I ⬤ At long last, the questions and physical examinations are done. They’ve decided to call the arrivals as the Moonblessed. They’ll take you under their care until they understand more about you. You're allowed a very refreshing hot shower and a warm meal for your efforts. Don’t worry, the meal was imported from their planet. “Planet?” you might ask, but you won’t need to wonder for too long. The ships are preparing for their next destination: the nearby planet Prismatica, where you will be dwelling for the time being. You're free to explore the government center until then.

▶ Wildcard
Lunatia, Prismatica | top

It only takes a couple hours for the ships to reach their home planet. The ships drop the characters off at the city of Lunatia, where they will be given their communication devices and a plastic card they can present to certain landlords at any residential district for their subsidized (read: absolutely free) lodging. Officials at Prisma instructed the newcomers to await further instructions from the government, but you have a lot of time to kill before then. Why not explore in the meantime? Learn the ins and outs of the world, get a job, transform under the full moon, and discover the many mysteries of planet Prismatica!

TDM OVERFLOW can be found here!

Comments

[good_bamf_ugly]

[Naturally McCree's thoughts turn to Fareeha, someone with plenty of fire and flight in her worthy of a pegasus. It makes the idea no less weird. Probably bad luck to name a horse after someone hew knew, in all seriousness. He starts to think of other names for fun but the pegasus climbs higher and higher into the lunar sky until they both have a grand view of the landscape; flat planes of sparkling sand dunes broken up abruptly by huge jagged crystals like canted buildings. In the far distance, Prismatica itself looms up over the horizon.]

Wow... you see that out there?

[Hard to miss, as is the awe in his voice. All at once he thinks about the Horizon Lunar Colony and the severe disassociation that what he's looking at isn't Earth at all. He'd been taking this entire excursion with a grain of salt, something surreal and maybe not even real at all but somehow staring out at another planet from this kind of lofty perspective makes him feel incredibly small and humbled, and for once, lost. If Angela wasn't right behind him he's sure he'd resign himself to needing a drink immediately to drown out the creeping existential dread. She's a sudden lifeline he didn't know he needed after missing it for so long. In lieu of being able to hold her hand, his hand fists the pegasus's mane a little tighter.

She's climbed high enough and starts to take a nosedive, determined to get these monkeys off her back.]

I'M UGLY CRYING OVER HOW SWEET THIS IS WTF I'M GONNA PERISH

[cadeuces]

( Angela's not sure she could ever name things after people she knows, so what she thinks of instead is... )

Maybe something like Fre— ( "—Ah!" the sudden uptick in angle and Jesse's weight tipping back against her has her twitching her shoulderblades back, pinching, and kicking on the thrusters of her wings just in case. They end up not needing it. The atmosphere clears and everything beneath them glitters, swirling pastels of dust and craters, crystals like ice refracting the hues around them, and then...

...A whole other planet, twice as stunning. Slender fingers curl into his shirt at the shoulders, hugging him closer, and she can't take her eyes from it. They're similar in how they feel— awe, of course, but also a deep and aching sadness as they confirm how far from home they really must be. Angela's assumption of some bizarre dream cut short in seeing her reflection in the oasis, and finding Jesse here had assuaged the strange sense of it being a dream. Seeing him as she's never seen him before, surely beyond her own imagination. (She'll grill you on that metal arm another time, mister.)

They are lost, but they've found each other, and that's a start, isn't it? Angela has always put him back together whenever he stumbled into her hands, and he has always been at her back, knowing she could fall if it came down to it. They may have gone separate paths within Overwatch, but that hadn't changed their being the same age between actual heroes twenty years their seniors and those too young to remember the Crisis, like Lena and Winston. The press of her temple to his is a fond one, sighing out the breath she'd sucked in before. )

It's beautiful. ( She tries to ease her hold on him, where she'd clutched tightly, before: ) It isn't home, but it is beautiful.

( Perhaps she shouldn't have even bothered loosening her hold, because then it's the pegasus tipping forward and nose-diving, and then it's Angie's nails digging into the flesh beneath (and hitting metal on one side, ow??). Thankfully, she doesn't scream. She's never screamed a day in her life and she wouldn't start 37 years in, but there is a quiet, terrified noise lost somewhere in her throat and she isn't the one with a horse to lock her legs about. Weightlessness starts to take her and she has to drop folded legs to curl up behind his, ankles under haunches, and all they can do is hold on as long as possible. She doesn't have the strength to hold him aloft for too long, but she'll be able to break their fall the last thousand feet or so, if necessary.

Perhaps she's his lifeline but now she's clinging to him just the same and burying her face in his throat, looking away from the ground rushing back up as long as the horse remains beneath them. )

mccreeb gengers and mercy are very underappreciated together

[good_bamf_ugly]

I wonder if that's where we're supposed to go. [That's about all he gets out before the pegasus's wings fold and gravity drags them down, swift and fierce. One hand's tight on his hat like a bad habit while the other grips the mane of the horse, worried it'll rip right out of his hand. He trusts Angela to keep a good grip on him and debates if this is the time to bow out or not.

He doesn't think pegasus are the suicide bomber types but, hell, he's never been on a pegasus before ever either. He does his very best to hang on but he keeps sliding off the horse inch by inch. He begrudgingly concedes to a loss, mostly not wanting Angela to suffer anything on account of him being him. As much as he can possibly help, anyway. You get this one, Cocaine. Yeah that's the name.]

I'm lettin' go on the count of three! [He shouts over the wind, then starts counting. On three he lets go and immediately the horse slips out from under him. They're falling free in the sky and he's really hoping those wings of hers can handle both of them.]

signed stamped and notarized tbh, let them be the best tomos

[cadeuces]

( 'A good grip' is an understatement, because she's locking her hands together as tightly as she can the moment she sees wings folding back, knowing what's to follow.

She's a bit of an expert, after all.

Jesse hits the road block that is Angela clinging just as tightly to the pegasus' haunches behind him, velocity flattening him to her and tipping her back, but she can only hold on for so long as well. (Let go of your dumb hat and use both hands!!! Impossible heiferman!!!) But he hollers back that he's letting go, and she has to open her eyes against the stinging air whipping past them and gauge their distance. Too high, just a few hundred feet, but there's nothing she can do to stop him in time before he's letting go and she has to as well, wing blades extending to let the air sift through in a way that doesn't jerk them midair— instead, the hook of her leg about one of his helps them tip forward.

Skydiving, though still at dangerous speeds. He's just heavy enough that it exceeds her physical limit and she won't be able to hold onto him long, but— there's one of those ponds, darkening in the middle to give some concept of depth. So they begin to spiral downward, drag slowing them on approach, and her arms are shaking well before they're in safe range to let go.

She'll be feeling this particular stunt in her entire upper body for days yet. But the wings hold and when they're finally some fifteen, twenty feet up and coasting over the pond, she pinches her shoulderblades back and the blades cut out, wings folding and locking. He gets just enough of a shove to separate them, lest they tangle and injure one another, and she splashes right into the waist-deep edge of the water that nearly knocks the wind from her lungs.

Once she's climbing out after a long, stunned moment, she's immediately looking around for him to see if he's all right. )

Jesse...?

[good_bamf_ugly]

[He spreads his legs out just before they skim the pond as if to ski on the surface, and to his credit he probably does glide a few inches on those spurred boots of his once she lets go. His weight quickly catches up with him and a few seconds later he goes down with a mighty splash.

The pond is cold and dark, but a far more welcome feeling than hitting hard ground. First his hat surfaces and then a moment later his head, missing it utterly. He gasps, probably from holding his breath long before hitting the water, then shakes out his hair.]

'M alright. [He announces, hearing her before he can wipe the water from his face and see her proper. The water wasn't deep but it was enough to soak him thoroughly and immediately. All the heavy leather and metal he wears makes him feel like a waterlogged brick. He starts treading towards her, collecting his hat on the way.]

You okay? Nothin' hurt?

[cadeuces]

( (Honestly she'd be impressed that worked if she'd seen it tbh.) Angela wouldn't have forgiven herself if she'd broken one (or god forbid both) of his legs with a bad landing, but she's grown used to depositing people mid-flight when evacuating disaster zones in a rush— no one his size, and never coming in so fast from nearly such a height, but the motions remained the same. She sent him toward the deep middle and skirted the edge herself, chancing injury because she knows she can heal from it.

Angela's left with the uncomfortable feeling of water getting in through her suit's openings, stuck underwater long enough for it to seep through. She'll have to get the whole thing off to dry. But Jesse's speaking up even as she's mopping her hair out of her face and then the water, shaky as she climbs to her feet to find one ankle weak and meeting him in the middle to hold her hands up to him. Let her get a look at you. )

You're certain? ( He looks like a waterlogged brick, but she likely looks like a drowned dove herself. ) I twisted an ankle, I think, but it will heal given a few minutes.

( And then, hands at his scruffy cheeks, she can't quite... keep herself... from giggling. She slumps forward and gets her arms up around his neck, hugging him for all she's worth. )

I never thought I would see you again, much less on a flying horse.

[good_bamf_ugly]

[There she goes, looking him over like not a day passed since his last physical. It'd been easy to ignore how cold the water was until her warm hands were on him. It's soothing in one sense but also brings a subtle existential ache that this isn't a dream and that they were actually physically here on this weird alien planet and that he was actually really seriously just riding a pegasus. She doesn't give him much opportunity to frown at her and her ankle before he's being hugged. He stands there a little dumbly, too afraid to accept how much he'd missed regular human contact. It's only a second or so before he's got his arms around her and is holding her up in the embrace.

(Lord, he'd missed it.)

When he pulls back he keeps his hands at her shoulders, fairly doing his own assessment.]

Can't say that's how I imagined any reunion going either.

[That is to say he imagined no reunions going on ever, which is probably clear by the way he avoids her gaze near the tail end of that statement. The Recall had gone unanswered by him.]

[cadeuces]

( It's really quite cold if it makes even her hands feel warm, a feat in itself. It's simply how she's always been; no circulation problems, just blessedly cool hands great for fevered foreheads and frustratingly cold toes when it came to sharing a bed.

She's missed him, and everything about him just screams Jesse. He even smells the same when she pulls herself up against him and her nose is barely reaching his throat, relaxing against him when he finally wraps her up and takes her weight off her bad ankle with how ferociously he embraces her right back.

It felt right. And it felt like relief, knowing he's alive and okay after all these years of watching his bounty tick up as the only indication she could assume he was still around. She isn't the first to let go, but she only clings an extra moment or two before easing from him in turn, reaching back to cover his (metal) hand at her shoulder and then reaching to cover the other as well. Right. The one he can actually feel properly.

Angela acquiesces herself to an examination with the long-suffering brush of her lashes at her cheeks and the exasperated tip of her head, smiling idly before looking back up at him. She doesn't miss that avoidance, mister. )

I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad you're all right. ( From the fall, at least. And she hadn't answered the Recall either. ) How long has it been...? Six years? God.

[good_bamf_ugly]

Lost count. [Said with all sardonic respect to self. Months bleed into years and his sense of time easily slipped away from, especially after immediately leaving Blackwatch. All the soul-searching and trying to find himself at the bottom of a whisky bottle did little good in the end and when he finally started coming to terms with that the years didn't matter so much anymore.

She's alright and isn't asking him to explain himself which he can appreciate, but he'll expect an earful and plenty of questions soon enough. For now however...]

Let's get out of this puddle. [He lets her go to gingerly ring out his hat, not moving far however in case that ankle doesn't hold up. His hat is still soaking wet but the easiest place to carry it is on his head so that's where it's going to go with a wet squish. He offers her an arm and starts walking towards the shore.]

[cadeuces]

I couldn't. ( Angela counted the days, met the anniversaries, visited the site whenever possible, ordered flowers for the headstones at Arlington. Paid for upkeep. She's one of the few allowed open travel because of her deal with the UN, and with minimal surveillance to boot.

There's something to be said for "good behavior", though she's done everything but on the sly. They were all forbidden contact and still she writes Genji, keeps in touch with the Lindholms and by extension Reinhardt through Brigitte. Managed to finagle her tech out from under their grimy mitts, slipping into the MSF to continue her work for an exaggerated truth and no more.

The years mattered plenty to her when it was another one gone and still no peace of mind, but now she has one piece, and it's something she cradles in her hands nearly as fondly as she cups his cheeks for one last solid look. You can't avoid her this close, Jesse.

He shifts away with a good suggestion and to wring out that poor, battered old hat of his, and her ankle holds. Painful and on the way to numbing to dull the pain halfway, but it holds, and she takes his arm once it's offered and trusts her weight with him. )

It's good I bottled water from another oasis I'd found before I ran into you; we muddied this one up terribly.

( She won't jump into grilling him, but he'll notice how her eyes keep drifting to that metal arm with her curiosity as she tries to puzzle it out. You're not escaping that explanation at the very least; not for long. She cares too much to let that slide. Once she's certain he's all right and there's nothing giving him immediate grief, then they'll be able to continue on and work on a trail of breadcrumbs to reacquaint one another with the missing years between them. )

If we can find somewhere to rest for a bit, I would appreciate the chance to dry. Sound good?

[good_bamf_ugly]

[He knows out of anyone Angela had the good graces to still move around, mostly unsullied by the fall of Overwatch and that she'd best take advantage of it, easily able to take care of herself. Same can't be said for so many of the other members. It's a little bit jarring to even think about that on this alien planet where all that might not mean a damn thing anymore, so he's not going to.]

Made a hell of a mess. [He laughs, relishing in how good it felt a genuine chuckle felt after all that derring-do. Smart of her too to think ahead, even if he's not entirely sure he trusts the water around here to drink at all. After helping her ashore he's keenly aware of her eyes burning on him. If he's discomforted he tries to not show it, mostly by keeping himself busy and focusing on the steps ahead; the literal and figurative ones. He agrees a dry spot to rest is a good plan and is eager to help her out of her wings if it'll keep her eyes off his arm. They're probably awful heavy on her feet anyway. He'll disrobe a little himself soon, once they get a fire going.

He'll tell her to rest up while he looks for something burnable, get a small campfire going to help dry off their clothes and while her ankle heels heals. It'll be a good chance to catch-up good and proper. There's a whole lot of rocks, dirt, and crystal and little in the way of traditional plant life, but, along the shore he spots some bone-white driftwood. It looks as eerie as anything else around here. He'll take what he can get. He drags the driest pieces back and snaps them under his still soggy boot.

Making a campfire is a piece of care for him and in minutes he's got the whole thing arranged. The unusual part is where he thinks about whipping out his lighter to start it, but, the tips of his fingers spontaneously produce a small flame instead. He almost doesn't notice it and the second he's consciously thinking about it it flickers out. He stares rather dumbly at his hand, hoping that puddle wasn't made of LSD and it's just kicking in now. It seems so crazy he doesn't even want to ask Angela, but, he does.]

...You see that?

[cadeuces]

( Deals were made and agreements fulfilled to allow her that freedom (and to hopefully make a safe space for some of those remaining, like Winston who couldn't so easily live a normal life), but it was also a matter of how visible she had already been as a humanitarian. Trying to keep someone like Angela Ziegler under house arrest would have sparked far too much suspicion and far too many questions.

They're as far from home and those restrictions as possible. But a small piece of it was still here with them, in themselves and in each other, and she's having a hard time letting go of him now that she has him beside her once more. His laugh only has her smile warming further, huffing an echo of it out through her nose and shaking her head.

Thankfully there's a formation of crystal that will give them some measure of privacy in the way it formed together, and they beeline for it without needing to say a word. They still work together well, even after all these years, hmm? He even listens to her directions to the letter when she walks him through where to squeeze and how hard to manually disengage the seal about the ball joint of each wing, ports closing right back over as soon as he gets one out, then the other, and she takes them in hand with care.

Angela slides down the wall of crystal with some measure left of grace and runs her hands down her legs, slipping off her boots and getting to the excess pieces of armor while he's off finding something to burn and help them dry out. It doesn't take him long, at least, before he's back and arranging his bits of tinder and smaller branches to begin with.

Perhaps what made him think about it was Angela's startled little oh! when he's going to reach for his pocket but his finger's on fire instead. Her brows furrow and she's holding a hand out, asking him for the offending digit. )

I did— are you all right? Let me see.

gomen a million years later, thanks for waitin

[good_bamf_ugly]

[He knows better than to resist her too much when it comes to medical care--she's a doctor after all and for every good reason--especially when it comes to spontaneously combusting which is totally new for him.]

Didn't hurt or nothin'. Just...

[He narrows his eyes at his own fingers, like he could glare them into catching fire again but it doesn't happen. It happened when he was trying to light their moonified campfire so maybe if he thinks about that again and, yeah, there it is. The tips of his two right fingers ignite with a small modest flame. Thinking it'd be best to not waste it, he uses his fingers to light the fire and also to see if this wasn't all some illusion. The kindle glows and catches on. It's real.]

Well that's new.

[Like a lot of things between them, but that's new new.]

PLEASE??? I will wait forever for a smelly cowman

[cadeuces]

( Angela took his hand and runs soft fingertips over his own calloused ones, but as he says, it hadn't hurt him— the skin isn't even any warmer than it should be, let alone burned or blistering. She'll relinquish him just as easily to watch him try again.

She doesn't say squinting isn't going to help, but she thinks it. Good going, Clint Eastwood. (Yes, she still remembers.)

But then he's reaching for the driftwood again and there it is— flames sparking to life without so much as a snap, and then he's setting it to the shaved tinder, catching and feasting quickly. She holds her hand out for his again just to be sure. Thankfully she isn't shocking him with her yet-unknown "ability". )

It certainly is. Amongst other things. Here, let me have that poncho.

( She has her chest and back piece propped up to her right, near the entrance, so she can hang it over them and place it near the fire to help dry it out.

It's easier to make easy little demands in the name of "survival" than find a starting point for a proper conversation. They've already long-since left the stratosphere of a normal reunion, and it's difficult to lead that back to its tracks.

After, she'll get to sitting up and reaching around her back to dig the pull cord from the neck and unzip her undersuit, peeling herself out of it and folding it down to her waist for some relief. )

[good_bamf_ugly]

[give her socks and some carpet and his metal hand and that will change He won't fuss as she asks for his poncho, bringing attention to the fact clothes were still soaked and in need of drying. So long as no dangerous creatures also roamed this moon, he's content on not rushing to any destination unknown. Outer layers of clothes come off one by one; the chest armor, chaps, boots, socks, and shirt all get sloughed off with a similar indifference, only impeded by wetness making fabric cling to his skin. It was hard to be modest for too long in a para-militaryesque setting like Overwatch, and McCree was definitely not shy about his body back then nor now, even as time and his vices have left their marks on him. He's not as trim as he used to be, a little thicker in the middle but by no means out of shape. Broad chest and thick arms are mottled with scars and a permanent farmer's tan. The prosthetic arm fumbles with his belt only because seeing her peel out of the top half of her suit is incredibly distracting. It's hard to not stare. Eventually he manages to free his belt and so his holster and flash bangs, and they all find a safe place to dry.

What little modesty he does have is out of respect for her and so his pants stay on.

Oh right, his hat... he begrudgingly relinquishes that too, sitting it on top of a thin crystal jutting out of the ground like a stake. More than anything that made him feel naked so to compensate he's fishing a cigar out of some unseen place in his chest piece. He lights it with his fingers, to his delight and a small chuckle.

Not content to sit still he offers a hand with anything she needs additionally, moving some of her equipment and clothes closer to the fire so she can give her ankle some rest. He finds himself a bit fascinated with one of the wing pieces, smirking at it. All metal and mechanical up close, but the way she uses them looks completely natural, like real wings.]

Amazing how some things never change.

[Once he's satisfied everything is set to dry he'll finally settle, parking his wet rear-end near the fire and near her. He knows this conversation is coming and doens't necessarily mind, though he'd much rather hear her talk.]

[cadeuces]

( Jesse don't tempt her when they're trying to moonlace you're gonna get a nasty shock somewhere you really don't want it. Survival was part of their training— Jesse's more than hers, before, and now she took the brunt of it in her new line of work. They're a good team as they get everything laid out about the fire and hung up as best they can, some little privacy screen of armor and clothing at the entrance to protect the fire from any gusts of wind while they huddle behind it and work at getting comfortable.

Angela's equally not shy in letting her eyes fall to him— she takes in every inch he bares to her, the layer wrapped about his middle that had never been there before but still with the definition of muscle beneath it, no less powerful than he'd ever been before, time and tide taking their toll on him. He has some new scars. That arm was the elephant in the cave, to be sure, but here's what it boils down to:

He isn't hurt. It isn't hurting him or malfunctioning. And he's clearly used to it. In the grand scheme of things, if he isn't ready to discuss it with her, she isn't going to pry overmuch.

Her weight digs into her one heel as she shifts her hips up off the floor of the cave and wiggles the bodysuit down further, past one hip and then trying the other, but she's struggling. The wetness sticking to her and her inability to use her other foot for leverage is hindering her. )

Care to help?

( She's waving a hand toward the other hip she's trying to get the suit off of, even as he lights his cigar and sets about adjusting everything they've laid out to dry, running a hand over one of her wings before moving back to join her. She's not making a face (just yet) at the smoke. )

More amazing still the ways they do. How have you been, Jesse? I'm sorry I never found a way to contact you.

( However they get the suit off, it retains its half-hollow shape to air out and can be laid out beside her to dry, and she'll be resting her head on his shoulder once he's settled back down. He's warmer, after all. )

[good_bamf_ugly]

[maybe he's into that don't judge

When she calls for help he's obedient, doesn't think twice about kneeling beside her and peeling the suit down her hips but midway through the motion he feels a furious heat on his face. For all the time's he's flirted with her in the past he had the confidence to do so under the assumption it'd never go anywhere. Neither of them had that luxury. Not between Overwatch and Blackwatch, not between all the missions and complications. Peeling her suit off was done with the intention of a mission--helping her--but seeing the smooth curve of her hip and the act of her undressing, and that his hands were the ones doing it felt ilicit. He almost doesn't want to believe this is even real until the palm of his hand touches her leg and it's all warm and soft and real. He quickly finishes the job and cooly turns back in his seat, scratching the bridge of his nose like he could scratch the heat off. Sucking on his cigar helps.]

Not your fault. [Talking helps more, even if it's a somber subject.] Not a damn thing anyone could've done about Swiss HQ. [He means more than just that incident, of course. It was the series of events that lead up to that breaking point.]

...Didn't want any part of it anymore.

[cadeuces]

( No judgment, only indulgence.

It's a relief that she doesn't have to dig into that swollen ankle and he sets right to helping her get the rest of her bodysuit off, dragging against her skin for the slightest resistance as he peels it right down, sighing as the cool air hits her skin. It sends a fresh wave of goosebumps up her body, but the relief far outweighs the discomfort of the cold.

He's turning quite red, isn't he? Some things never change. It was only ever when she'd returned even a fraction of his attentions that he truly ended up flustered, and who knows how long he'd been on his own? It only breaks her heart that something as simple as legs he's seen a million times are getting him flushed.

The rough pass of a calloused palm just above her knee is nice, though, isn't it? And it kindles something deep down, basic and pure and powerful. That was new. It wasn't anything like arousal, no emotion she's ever felt welling up before. It just felt like energy. It distracts her from the rest of the action and he's turned back away by the time she seems to catch up with the present again, and he's speaking.

Pay attention, girl. )

I know. I'd just— once you were gone I seemed to notice so many ways you'd been uncomfortable, and when you started pulling away from it, and I should have noticed sooner. ( Sorry about the way she slips an arm through his, pressing against his side for the warmth he offers and to give him something back. Companionship, at the very least. Sincerity through skin contact. ) I'm sorry if you ever felt alone in that. And after. I could have done something.

( He could have come with her, to countries where his bounty blended in with thousands of others. At least, it's what she'd hoped she could have done. She'd never found a way to contact him, though. So he'll just have to settle for the way she hugs his (real) arm now and take her apologies and her sincerity and know that she won't let go again so easily. )

[good_bamf_ugly]

Naw... don't blame yourself. [She still does after all these years, and she should be the last one to do that in his opinion.] You were tryin' to keep it together when everyone was fallin' apart.

[It was hard to not feel angry or resentful being so helpless in the face of two powerful opposing personalities like Jack and Gabriel, nevermind all the outside bureaucracy at play. McCree came from a bad place and found a new sense of justice and purpose in Overwatch, so to see the demise of people he cared so much about hit him harder than he ever wanted to admit. He spent a lot of lonely nights not long after his departure drunk out of his mind and ruminating about it around a campfire just like this in a much less peaceful manner. He doesn't realize he's clenching his fist until he feels her soft touch. It's immediately soothing, more than it should've been.]

Figured I'd do better on my own but... [He'll directly address his arm by bringing it into view. He knows she's going to ask about it. He doesn't really want to talk about it but he trusts she won't do him (or his ego) any harm.] ...maybe bit off more than I could chew at some points.

[cadeuces]

( It's right on the tip of her tongue. "Even still, you're a dear friend to me and you deserved more of my attention.", "Maybe things would have gone differently." But it's a moot point now, and so what she offers instead is her head at his shoulder and the cover of her right hand over the back of his, even as she hugs that arm to her with the left, and: )

Thank you, Jesse.

( For no hard feelings, even when she thinks there would have been some. Maybe there had been and they'd just faded over the years; it isn't for her to pry. She takes him at face value, and that's quite a lot of trust, coming from someone so used to doubting everything one says about their state of mind and body and continues to look for the fissures, surrounded by stubborn soldiers eager to dip out of the medbay.

And she's glad the clench of his fist gives way to her touch and he relaxes before continuing. The nudge forward of that metal arm catches the firelight, and she holds out her left hand for it. If he gives it to her, she'll be lacing her fingers through metal ones and easing it closer to her, turning his wrist with the twist of her own to get a proper look over it and leaning forward just enough to see where it connects to his body, how well (or badly) it had been done, watching the joints and feeling every scrape of grit in any ball joint or hinge. )

What happened...? If you don't want to talk about it yet, we don't have to. I just need to know if it causes you any problems or pain. The rest can wait.

( It looks like the tech from South America— a bit crude in some ways, but heavy-hitting. Sturdy. She's so used to the streamlined European/Asian cybernetics that it seems dilapidated in comparison, but it seems to have held out well for him. At least a few years old, given the wear and tear on it. Dents and divots, scratches. It's been through quite a lot with him already, hasn't it? There's an appreciation in the way she looks his new arm over, at least. For taking care of him all this time. She isn't being terribly critical, just curious. )

[good_bamf_ugly]

Well.. might be a story for another day. [that's the cop out answer Echo gets that's what everyone gets The exact details of his arm he's a little disinclined to talk about in detail so i don't get retconned up the ass and since she's giving him a convenient out he'll take it. He thinks it's been too long to keep so many things from her but of all of them this is probably the most harmless. ]

Doesn't hurt but I can feel through it. Pressure, heat... [He trails off as her fingers delicately lace through his, fascinated by sensations and the medical marvels he's long since stopped thinking about so consciously. Getting used to his arm was an entirely different slew of drinking and ruminating on but her earnest interest in it makes it feel like, for a moment, he maybe went about it all the wrong way.]

...All that stuff.

[It also dawns on him how incredibly lucky he is to have found her, of all people from his world. He knows his hand'll be in the right hands.]

Don't know how Genji got used to his whole body being like this.

[cadeuces]

Another day, then.

( Conceded without a fight and without disappointment; now that they have the chance to wind down, relax, and rest, she feels her eyes growing heavy and the warmth of him against her side and the fire before them is something she just wants to bask in, see them both sleeping off the aches that have settled into them as well as that new ache of having reunited. To find that their edges still line up no matter how they've been tattered over the years.

He starts explaining the functions of his arm, but he trails off to the touch as she takes his hand in her own and begins pressing each pressure pad at his fingertips one by one, giving him a squeeze to give her back one in return, feeling out any grit she'll need to clean out for him once they get somewhere proper and she has the necessary equipment.

At least her multitool in her pouch should have what she'd need to get into it. He should have been able to grow accustomed to this by using it to pull someone close and test his touch with their own, but she imagines it wasn't quite so simple. )

Whoever did this did quite well, all save the attachment. That could have used a cleaner touch. I'm glad there's a nerve mesh in place, though, and that it seems to have done you well over the years.

( She'll draw it up and lean forward just enough to kiss the back of that metal hand in a brief little peck. A reverent thing that thanks his limb for pulling through when he likely had no one else. She'll keep ahold of it as she relaxes back against his chest and her arms go slack, resting in her lap with cool metal fingertips near the bend of her knee. She'll be glad to get the poor thing cleaned up and re-greased. It felt quite gritty and the water hadn't helped matters any. )

He didn't have a choice but to take it as it came, but you know he had faced a lot of hardships in acclimating to three new limbs when he had lost so much of himself. As well as the recovery process for what was left of his body. We helped, to a degree. But there was only so much even we could do. He was in a tremendous amount of pain for too long. He wrote once that the Shambali were impressed with the concept of the nerve meshes—

( It was likely her development, unable to watch his suffering a moment longer. And it was probably one of the biggest shifts in revisions toward his comfort, but it helped his body translate the signals from the prosthetics to the brain in a way that remained a bit distant. It registered heat but didn't "burn", and it could take pressure but wouldn't "ache". That is why she's glad it found its way to his arm, though she doesn't know if it's quite the same as the ones she was familiar with. Maybe it's more rudimentary or maybe it's more direct.

It didn't matter. She's rambling, exhausted, and she's relaxing back against him. )

We should... get some rest. I can tell I'm running out of energy. ( Admitted lightly and with good humor, specifically because of the rambling. ) Will you lie down with me?

[good_bamf_ugly]

[Yeah he'll have to get used to that multitool as she wills his fingers into dancing around without his input. He'd used regular mechanical tools on himself before--same kinds he might use on a hoverbike when needed--but a hand was so much more intricate. He could manage to do enough in a pinch just to get himself by until he could find someone who owed him a favor, or vice versa. More than his own hand he's much more interested in what she has to say about Genji.

The Shambali? The omnic monks? Was she implying Genji visited them at some point, and implying that he wrote to her? He knits his brows trying to piece together a potential timeline. McCree always wondered where Genji went when he left Blackwatch; for all the development and growth Genji had with them there was always some part of him still so tumultuous. When McCree found himself similarly conflicted between himself and Blackwatch's future it was hard to not think of Genji. After he left he sought him out for that reason but ninjas are real good at hiding themselves. Failing to find his old friend and failing to find Ana may have played a part in McCree gravitating into the bounty hunting gigs, natural talent aside. If he just kept his ear to the ground, just maybe something would turn up...

He could just ask her, and frankly he's tempted but he also hears the fatigue in her voice. He slides his arm over her shoulder and gets as comfortable as these moonrocks will permit, not inclined to ruin the moment.]

One step ahead of you.

[cadeuces]

( Thankfully it's a brief test, knowing just which bits popped the hood and which to twist to give him a test run, and she's closing him up just as quickly and tucking the tool away. It isn't a good environment to start fussing with his arm and she didn't have the necessary materials anyway.

She sees his interest shoot up with his brows when she speaks of Genji, and the silent little nod and smile indicates that, yes, he had crossed paths with them and they'd been in contact, even if he hadn't asked aloud. She also doesn't answer aloud. It's a story for another day, as he liked to say. They needed their rest.

So the slide of his arm about her draws her in closer, and she uses the momentum to lay down with him, pressing back against him as snug as possible as she draws his arm close about her collar like a blanket. Her head's pillowed on his bicep, metal catching the light of the fire in the corner of her eye, but he's comfortable. He's warm. Her fingertips lace between his knuckles with a jolt of that same energy through them, tingling and warm, as she hugs that arm to her. )

Rest well, Jesse. ( Then, after the space of a breath, two, quietly: ) I'm glad we found each other here.

( It never took her long to fall asleep. This proves even truer in company she trusts, with the familiar smell of tobacco and leather and sun-worn denim filling her senses. )