legionmissions | TO HAVE AND TO HOLD [modplot]

Entry tags:

TO HAVE AND TO HOLD [modplot]

Who| Anyone who wants in
What| "To Have and to Hold" plot
Where| The planet Olum, Matihara Temple
When| Set vaguely the same time as "Gods Among Us" and "Other Mother"
Warnings/Notes| N/A

The planet Olum is a genuinely welcoming place. While the clothes they have to wear for the rituals are a bit...odd (provided they don't opt for coverups), they are comfortable, especially with such a balmy climate. Despite the Olumites allowing outsiders into their ceremonies, there's a distinct lack of tourist-ey elements; no gift shops, no merchants selling anything, just a spirit of genuine unity and celebration. The Olumite marriage guides seem to genuinely care about helping people with their relationships, and seem happy to share their cultural traditions with other species.

As far as missions go, it's definitely a nice vacation from the usual life or death struggles.

It means the Legionnaires have no distractions. They have to settle in and try to navigate this while faking sincerity as best as they can.

[ooc: All information about the setting can be found on the infopost.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They'd finished the memory-sharing ritual last, and even though they've had plenty of time to talk about it afterwords, the weather between them has undoubtedly changed. It's not tense, by any means, but even Junkrat is abnormally quiet, finding that his idle chatter isn't really filling the vulnerable void that was torn open in the process.

In fact, he hasn't said a word since waking up today, responding in nary a grunt or silent expression. For what it's worth, it doesn't seem like he's in a bad mood...but maybe things become a bit clearer when they finish getting through the sending tree's path, well out of view of anyone else.

He brings a hand up to his mouth and spits out a latex sleeve. Given that they're on what is essentially a couples' retreat, there were plenty of them to be found -- even across the stars and who knows how many decades, there's really no moving on from the tried and true.

"Figured they'd give us nothin' but food and water," Junkrat scoffs, inverting the sheath to reveal the tightly woven paracord tube within. He picks at the paracord just enough so he can pull out two things that really should have not fit inside of it within the restrictive realm of physics: a bulky switchblade and a stainless steel butane lighter.

All of the items get relocated to the supply bag at his side, and he gives a cheeky grin to Fareeha. "Always come prepared."

He giggles.

There's ... a lot to think about. Fareeha is also withdrawn and contemplative; they'd had their discussion about the things they'd seen the other person endure. Some questions remained, but she wasn't about to push into what was likely spiky territory. She respected Jamison; for everything he'd ever done, here he'd shown her that -- deep down -- he had a good and decent heart.

And she couldn't say his hatred of Omnics wasn't justified, sadly. Maybe one day they'd talk about individuals, but today wasn't that day. He'd be the one to let her know if or when that day might be.

For now, she accompanies him to the Sending Tree and heading out for the task at hand - something else that weighs heavily on her mind. As if worrying over Jamison and his violent upbringing weren't heavy enough, she's thinking about this whole mission; essentially faking a religious rite in order to steal artifacts. It was for the betterment of the whole, for the sake of the universe, quite literally ... but the more she thought about it the less right it felt. She'd agreed to come on this trek with him to keep an eye on him, and while she'd been to the briefing and knew what this mission entailed, the justifications she'd originally told herself were starting to feel rather thin in the actual face of it.

She's so mired in these thoughts that it catches her by surprise when he spits out a condom and proceeds to pull weapons out of it. Fareeha can't help but stare in open surprise; she'd come to expect some of the unexpected from him, but even this was beyond the fathomable.

"I ... yes, that's a good motto to have."

Hey! They're not weapons. They're survival tools. Even the condom counts as one, and there are plenty of uses left in this one (not like that), so of course it's going into the bag too.

"Just be glad ya can't taste the inside of me mouth right now, heheheh--" he continues, unrepentantly shameless about the whole thing and apparently clueless as to the different ways that could be taken. "Don't say I never take one for the team," he threatens playfully, pointing at her and her awed expression as he starts to take off down the barely-beaten path.

"Shame I don't know the flora here," he comments, clearly veering back into his usual habit of chattering about whatever's on his mind. "S'pose that's what the food is for. We should be all set on everythin' else though. I mean, I didn't wanna risk gettin' caught so I went with the minimalist set. Rope, knife, fire. Anything else can be improvised, even additional food."

His chattering comes to an abrupt stop when he looks at her, tilting his head to the side with a concerned frown.

"Ya doin' okay, mate? Ya look like y've got a lot on yer mind."

Edited 2017-05-01 11:41 (UTC)

All depends on how you use them, but yes, using them for survival is far more likely here. She's not going to ask about the condom. She is able to recover, thankfully, and follows along after him into the wilderness.

"Here's hoping we won't have to use them." She's thankful for the sudden chatter - no matter where it came from - but then he stops and looks at her and just asks point blank what she's trying to suss out for herself. There's really putting nothing past him, is there?

"I do." Besides the ramifications of their memory sharing, she goes for the more immediate; "I'm not sure if we're doing the right thing here. Stealing religious artifacts? The more I think about it, the less sense it makes."

Jamie holds up for a moment while Fareeha catches up. Even with his limp, he still has an awfully long stride and could potentially outpace what her comfortable walking pace is.

So, in order to leash himself to her, he reaches out and holds her hand. Given the current conversation, the sentiment might be misconstrued. He's still cocking his eyebrow at her, quiet as she explains herself.

"Weird time ta be gettin' cold feet, mate. After all that dancin' and memory sharin' stuff, this should be the easy part."

Well, for a desert scavenger and a military-type. Maybe not so much for anyone else.

"And here I was thinkin' we were doin' the right thing this whole time," he continues, rubbing his shoulder with his free magitech hand and looking away. "I mean, if it were up ta Roadhog'n me, we woulda reduced this place ta rubble and robbed the place of all the artefacts we could dig up after. --After enjoyin' the swimmin' holes and the beach first, of course."

No point in sightseeing if you were going to blow it up before the actual sightseeing.

"But I'm tryin' ta behave, so...here we are."

He gestures vaguely. Maybe on another day, he would've sounded pretty bitter about it, but he really is enjoying his time with Fareeha.

"And it's not like we're takin' this stuff just because we can. The green guy's got some plan for them that has to do with stopping the big bads that are threatenin' the whole universe, and that includes these tree-huggin' marriage-lovin' blue aliens. I dunno about you, but I've become quite fond of the bloody buggers, and I'll gladly take somethin' from 'em if it means we're helpin' keep 'em safe."

Jamie shrugs, then gives her a smile, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"Besides, we're earnin' it, in their eyes. If you're worried about takin' somethin' from 'em, then let's convince them no one's ever earned it like we have."

She's used to being the one outpacing people, so his pulling ahead is still a little weird to her, but i a good way; it pushes her, challenges, her makes her take longer strides or quicker strides herself. She might be behind, but it's not by far.

He takes her hand, and she feels an odd little flush. She thinks to herself she couldn't possibly be falling for him, but she has to admit she's enjoyed their time together so far. It's always a little awkward to hear him mention antics from his life back home, admittedly; the way he talks about ruining this gorgeous wilderness in such an offhand manner, but where he says he's trying to behave, she sees that he is, and is willing to let such comments rest without argument.

"I guess you're right. If it means saving all of this in the end, that's got to mean something. Giving up a part of myself in return only seems fair." She squeezes his hand back, giving him a small smile. This kind of logic, she could take.

Junkrat gives her a cocky smirk, nudging her in the side. "See? I know what I'm talkin' about."

Even through all of his prattling might make it seem otherwise. He presses a hand against his chest, as if in genuinity.

"I, for one, am looking forward to becoming the new Jamison Fawkes-Amari." He grins widely. "Has a nice ring to it, dunnit? And they'll have ta reprint all of my wanted posters. Win-win! Hehehehe~"

She gives him something of a wicked grin in return,

"Are you so sure you're up to carrying the Amari name?" Does he realize the kind of highly-polished generations-deep military boots he's stepping into?

The grin gets sent right back to her.

"And what about you, mate? Are you ready ta handle the burden of Fawkes?"

Of course he's assuming she'd take his name too. It's just fair, right? He has no heritage to claim, yet--

"After all..." His smirk turns sharper as he leans in. "Ya could become the laughin' stock of yer helical compatriots, marryin' a freak like me. They may have a shred of respect fer ya no longer!"

Edited 2017-05-03 09:32 (UTC)

She hasn't dropped that wicked grin, and reaches over to tap a finger against his chest.

"I think I'd get it back once they saw how I handle you." She's up to the challenge. But also, it's just good fun; things would be wholly different if they were actually still in their own world. "Speaking of which, we should keep a mind on our mission. We need to find those artifacts."

And with that, she's back to business; brushing past him with a pat on his shoulder while looking about the forests around them.

"Handle me?"

He's quiet as she tries to veer the conversation towards something more productive, pulling ahead of him. He hunches forward with a frown, chasing her down with a pointed finger, completely disregarding the matter at hand.

"Wot. Ya think y've got me tamed or somethin', like some kinda--domesticated animal?"

Fareeha turns in surprise, belatedly realizing how that might have come off.

"What? No, that's not what I meant at all." She's realizing that talking to Junkrat was a lot like handling explosives themselves; never for a moment forget what you're dealing with. "I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry."

After a beat, he drops his hand and stands up a little straighter, consistently hanging out at her six as they walk.

"She'll be right," he comments. She didn't really need to apologize, really...it's a good thing she's yet to see him genuinely angry. "What did ya mean, then?"

The day they both get genuinely angry at each other is the day something explodes. For now, though, things are simmering down. "I don't take crap from anyone. Even if I'm married to them." She gives him a little half-cocked grin. "You're a force to be reckoned with, Jamison, but I'm my own person and I'm not about to lose any of that."

In truth, it's a sentiment that she's harbored for far longer than she's known him; she's had to fight hard to follow her dreams.

"I noticed." Hard not to, after being in each other's heads last night.

Force of nature. He likes that. A smile creeps on his face - a genuine one, without any sharp edges.

"Wouldn't take any other person fer a spouse," he retorts. He'd lose interest with anyone weak-willed enough to let him run right over them.

As if this were like, a legitimate thing, or whatever.

She's definitely not the weak-willed type. Argument could be made she might be a little too strong-willed at times, but she's learning to let others in. She looks back at him, a little surprised. It was getting hard to ignore the odd sort of chemistry between them, but given their wildly vast differences she hadn't expected such an honor - you know, if this were a legitimate thing.

"Really? Even with my background?"

"Background ain't got anythin' ta do with it, mate. All that matters is the present."

He gives her a shrug, since she's looking at him.

"After all, ya saw me history, and yer still here. Pretty sure that's not just the commitment'ta the job talkin'."

She nods; he's got a point, and perhaps she could take a page out of his book and focus on the Now instead of her habit of dwelling on the past. She falls thoughtfully quite for a bit as they trek through the forest.

"No, I guess it's not. You're good company." At this point it's something of an understatement.

Junkrat scoffs.

"If only I had a quid every time someone told me that!"

A moment passes while he drills a finger against his temple, acting like he's actually doing the arithmetic. Like there was arithmetic to actually be done. Roadhog enjoyed his company--as much as he tries to make it sound like he doesn't--and probably will never come around to verbally acknowledging it.

"...I'd have exactly one quid right now. Holy dooley, I'll never make a livin' at this rate! Better stick me day job, then."

He cracks a smile at her.

Edited 2017-05-09 07:37 (UTC)

"Don't spend it all in one place."

It's good, easy conversation, and helps pass the time as they delve deeper into the wilderness and scan around for the relic.

Once it's found, however, getting back to the main paths proves a little more difficult than expected, and somewhere along the way they become hopelessly lost. Tempers grew short, arguments ensued, and then - as if that wasn't trouble enough - with a single deafening crrrrrack the sky opens up and dumps a deluge of rain that's falling so forcefully it stings. They're able to scramble up and into a rocky overhang that's hiding a small cave. It wasn't a long trek but they're both soaked by the time they get under cover. As if that weren't enough, the temperature drops by a few degrees. Fareeha rubs at her arms as they assess their shelter, and then starts nudging branches and rocks aside to clear a space.

"Should probably make a fire and lay low until this blows over."

He's not used to someone arguing with him. There are more than enough occasions where Roadhog has told him no, to stop that, but it was in the interest of keeping him alive and safe, not because he disagreed with the plan or had wanted to pitch another idea.

Junkrat is trying to keep a lid on his frustration, choosing instead to grit his teeth and curl his fingers and try really, really hard to not think about blowing something up.

Rain.

It had to be rain.

He didn't plan for this, on account of never really having to worry about rain - more of the complete lack of it. Even as they get to the little space of dry safety, he chooses to stay in the rain and hold his face up into the biting rain, finding some kind of catharsis in letting it soak him to the bone, surrendering his aggravation into the water as it rolls down his body.

"Take care of the shelter." He hopes she doesn't argue with him on this too. "I'll deal with the fire."

He'd better get used to it; part of the charm of bull-headed people was their inability to back down from their own ideas.

Fareeha watches Junkrat stand out in the rain, reminding herself that he came from a country where this was probably a very rare occurrence. Still, it's not at all healthy and the last thing anyone needs is to get sick.

"Come in out of the rain. I'll take care of the fire." She squats down and shifts through the debris, pushing aside what's useless and piling the sizeable sticks and kindling into separate piles.

His whole body twitches, and not because it's cold.

"Heheh..."

It starts as a sardonic little chuckle as a smile cracks across his face. The chuckle stops, and then kicks back into a chortle.

"Hahahaha--!!"

It gains more and more momentum until he's clutching at his stomach in stitch-busting laughter that could probably be heard for miles. It takes him a long moment to get over whatever nonexistant joke is hanging in the air before, calming down to a breathy little giggle as he reaches into his satchel and pulls out his utility knife. It snaps open with a fierceness that rivals the lightning.

"I..."

He turns to Fareeha, and even though his disguise is still in place, the unhinged smile is cracking through the seams like they were a cheap plastic mask struggling to stay in place. It's a mild threat for Junkrat, because he doesn't really want to hurt her, but apparently he can't get the message across any other way.

"...Insist."

She blinks up at him from her spot on the ground. She's tired, cold, and wet, and watching him make a fool of himself isn't exactly making her any more inclined to listen to his request.

"No, I've got this." Undeterred, she goes back to clearing a space for a firepit and then pushing some of the larger rocks down in a circle. "I learned fire building in basic." She glances back up at him. "If you don't want to work on clearing out the shelter that's fine; I can do that as well, but at the very least you need to get out of the rain before you make yourself sick."

Sick? She's been in his head. She knows he's always sick, both in his mind and in his body. Learned it in basic. A great argument to use against someone that is so adept at making fire, his hair is constantly burning off.

Well, it wouldn't be right now soaked through, but that's besides the point.

His grin sharpens. The sky gets darker. The rain becomes a venerable downpour, the kind that brings floods in its wake.

WIth the next blinding lightning strike, he disappears into thin air.

locked to Fareeha;

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