For once, Sombra sounds entirely serious when she snaps it out, concern so evident she can't even bother to mask it. Clawed fingers left curled idly in midair before that flash of blue disappears entirely. Regardless of the vitriol between them, there's no guarantee that darting around at the speed of light won't somehow sever the fragmented reality they're currently occupying— and Sombra stands at a disadvantage when she's alone.
Thankfully she doesn't have long to wait with her breath held (frustratingly) high in her throat before there's another snapping blue streak of light, Tracer suddenly right back where she was before.
And their surroundings entirely shifted.
This time there's pale light overhead. High. As though somewhere sunlight— or something like it streams in from the height of an entire building away. The scent of rotting flesh in the air, the ground beneath their feet just as wet and marked with jagged spines that look like....teeth. The far off skittering of something soft. Damp. A disjointed amalgamation of a setting.
"...well it worked." Judging by the way it's said, Sombra doesn't sound entirely happy about that fact.
Somehow— for reasons she can't exactly pinpoint— this feels worse. And familiar.
no subject
For once, Sombra sounds entirely serious when she snaps it out, concern so evident she can't even bother to mask it. Clawed fingers left curled idly in midair before that flash of blue disappears entirely. Regardless of the vitriol between them, there's no guarantee that darting around at the speed of light won't somehow sever the fragmented reality they're currently occupying— and Sombra stands at a disadvantage when she's alone.
Thankfully she doesn't have long to wait with her breath held (frustratingly) high in her throat before there's another snapping blue streak of light, Tracer suddenly right back where she was before.
And their surroundings entirely shifted.
This time there's pale light overhead. High. As though somewhere sunlight— or something like it streams in from the height of an entire building away. The scent of rotting flesh in the air, the ground beneath their feet just as wet and marked with jagged spines that look like....teeth. The far off skittering of something soft. Damp. A disjointed amalgamation of a setting.
"...well it worked." Judging by the way it's said, Sombra doesn't sound entirely happy about that fact.
Somehow— for reasons she can't exactly pinpoint— this feels worse. And familiar.