the making of maps

chartographic replied to your post: He’s in a mood

these punks can be in bad moods together

🔪??

➤ pros / cons // @pafallende

☠ pros / cons // @pafallende

muscles TAUT, impressively comparable to ARCHER’S BOWSTRING--- the soldier holds aloft his own weapon, trusted HEAVY PULSE RIFLE---& even more weapons strapped to his person, though he hopes to have no reason to pull them.

ஃ  ➡ hold my hand. // @greenxscarves

it takes a moment, but consciousness soon comes to realize that the GRIP on his HAND isn’t by cause of any form of RESTRAINT—

glazed eyes refocus, blinking away the dregs of delusion to find himself met with emily, a smile upon her face that he can’t quite DECIPHER—is it SYMPATHY ? is it PITY ? 

—it’s her hand that’s caught his own, & everything feels SLOWED as he tucks his chin to look downwards, identifying this ; there’s a CHURNING in his gut, a twisting sensation that threatens to rise as BILE in his throat—heat overtakes his forehead, the back of his neck, & jack would shake his head did he not fear the LETHARGY to simply ADD to the NAUSEA. 

➤ hold my hand. // @pafallende

                                                            THEY DON’T TALK ABOUT IT.

genji’s MOOD SWINGS, & dox’s lack of COMPASSION & PATIENCE when one strikes. the ‘during’ is a sensitive time wherein both are entirely INDELICATE, genji implying threats towards his well-being knowing it PISSES dox off, & dox goading him on just to see HOW FAR he’ll GO—

…but the aftermath is generally OKAY, the two mending breaks & falling back into old routines because this is just NORMAL for them——

but every so often something will STICK with genji, will creep up & render him DOCILE, a change in demeanor that maybe be SUBTLE to most but is ALL-TOO APPARENT to someone as close to him as DOX.

it’s one of those times now, the two sat together on the couch, lost in the screen of the TV as some soap opera plays, neither having chosen it, but now too invested to change the channel. MINDLESSLY attentive to the drama, dox’s attention only SNAPS to focus at the subtle sensation of fingertips creeping against his own.

NOW, genji’s GENERALLY pretty TOUCHY, but NOT in such TENDER DISPLAYS.

                                                         “ SUCK IT UP, SHIMADA.                                                                        it’s just a SHOW. ”

☼ hold my hand. // @kiiteiru

he doesn’t quite REALIZE what he’s done until a few moments AFTER the action—it’s the EXPRESSION on mollymauk’s face that forces caleb’s attention, a brief LAPSE in self-awareness that’s pushed back into itself by the wide-eyed, & then SOFTENING look upon companion’s face——he’s grabbed mollymauk by the hand, a grip with intention to STOP him, INSTINCTIVE response to seeing the tiefling walk away.

—despite now realizing what he’s done, caleb doesn’t RELEASE mollymauk, simply steels HIMSELF with a tightening hold and a TICK of his jaw. for a moment words remain CAUGHT within his mouth, captured between clenched teeth, but knowing EXPLANATION is EXPECTED, the wizard spares his justification :

                                                        “ you’re not going out there alone. ”

sheets of miasma waft from his shape, reaper internally INJURED---he shows up at the door of the geneticist's  lab, shoulder meeting the frame as he leans his weight against it, incapable of holding tall posture on his OWN.

lifting a hand, knuckles knock against solid surface once he’s sure she isn’t in the middle of pouring toxic chemicals, or performing some sort of PROCEDURE, or whatever ELSE moira finds to busy herself within this place.

dual-tone speaks ( & speaks ) after initial knock announces his presence, & though he GENERALLY sounds ROUGH & GRITTY, there’s an underlying TIGHTNESS to his voice that indicates DAMAGE SUSTAINED, & a STRAIN to FIGHT AGAINST IT---              but despite his STUBBORNNESS, he’s still SHOWN UP HERE.

                                                     “ i’m not so sure this is a good idea. ”

admission comes minutes prior to should-be arrival to the get-together ; it’s a CELEBRATORY thing, available operatives of overwatch - new & old - coming together for a tame revelry, a small party intended to BOOST MORALE & promote AMIABLE TEAM CONNECTIONS. ---jack is all too familiar with the tactics such party is meant to integrate & improve, having attended & hosted MORE than his fair-share - but that had been when brushing elbows with compatriots had been necessary ; it had been when he’d CARED to build those ‘amiable team connections’ ; he doesn’t even consider himself part of this TEAM---

SURE, he’s working alongside overwatch, but he vehemently refuses to OFFICIALLY sign onto their roster. ...hell, he refuses to remove his MASK when wandering the halls ; most of the others don’t know he’s ALIVE, & this isn’t really how he wanted to TELL THEM. ...or rather, he HAD no intention of telling them, & now he’s about to go in clad in regulation-grey casuals, sans-mask.

the soldier is experienced in holding position, remaining STEADFAST even in the face of IMMEASURABLE DANGER, & yet here exists TREPIDATION as he folds his arms and cocks a hip, the only indication he’s not OPEN to the whole concept of this situation.

                                                “ ALRIGHT, that’s enough for today. ”

calling all stops, the commander remains TAUT for a following moment until the adrenaline EBBS, & the tension melts naturally. at that point he straightens posture, reaching up to swipe the sweat from his brow ; breath still comes heavy, physical exertion now setting into his bones---he’s GRATEFUL for the motion as it’s been restored to him, but the ACHES & PAINS set in QUICKER now. his jobs still get DONE, the impressive prowess of his capabilities put on no sort of HALT, but after the surge of adrenaline passes he’s faced with something of a physical hangover.  ---moira has pills to help STAUNCH that some, two of which he moves to retrieve alongside a bottle of water waiting at the wall in the training room. 

the pills he chases with the entire bottle, taking then a set-aside towel & wiping his face with it.

                                                               “ it’s been a while, rein. ”

a SMILE breaks his face, albeit a SMALL one - the joy alights in his EYES, these of which regard old friend with favor & something of RELIEF. ---there exists inclination to invite the man to reconnect over drinks, share stories & fill in the gaps made by space apart - but something tells him they’d turn it into a friendly competition, & while jack has a greater tolerance than most, reinhardt is likely still EFFORTLESSLY capable of drinking his ass under the table---so... maybe save that for another time.

THERE HE STANDS, soaked & miserable ; hair sticks to his face, water dampening both APPEARANCE & DEMEANOR--- it’s apparent he hadn’t anticipated the sudden STORM, & the fact it’s caught him ( UNAWARE, UNPREPARED ) seems to have RUINED his AFTERNOON.

with a SHIVER, he curls in tighter on himself, sparing zemnian expletive in response to the weather. then :

careful footsteps tell of TREPIDATION, wizard in tow of necromancer, following her lead & casting cursory glances around the area. there’s some kind of TENSION thick in the air, a static TICKLE that heralds THREAT---