.ROAR

the man gnashes the unlit cigar between his lips, eyes shutting in a momentary rest from all this trouble. hanzo acted like he heard NOTHING of the past five minutes – he didn’t even howl or yap or do anything to show he cared. he files a mental note to stash that bottle of wine away, in any case – maybe he’ll bring it with the next time he hates himself and wants to venture out into the boondocks for a housewarming party with the wolf.

ODD, and odder still that the man would just act like he has no guests in his … home, or cave, or what have you. mccree’s left with nothing to do, so he just settles the basket in his arms by the fire pit and dog at hanzo’s heels, thinking they were finally going to sit down and discuss matters. apparently not; he stutters in his steps when he sees him stripping, eyes immediately dropping to squint at whatever heat the man was packing.

he doesn’t mean to stare, of course, but one is naturally curious, and mccree never pretended to be someone he wasn’t – or at least that’s what he told himself. he settles his arms crossed against his chest as he watches the huntsman step into the river, nonchalantly adjusting himself. the riverboat owner couldn’t help it; those glutes were to die for. 

“ —- hmm? ” said distractedly, shaking his gaze from hanzo’s back to meet his eyes. “ METAL MONSTER… her name’s queen francisca. an’ i’m just watching over your clothes, s’all. ”  a lazy hand gesture to the drying textiles, turning back to hanzo with a grin. “ i hear raccoons steal ‘em if ya don’t keep them close. ”

“The raccoon's would pluck the eyes from your head if one would let them”. He says, while a chuckle comes to bubble in his throat at the taste of his own jokes. though he was turned away, voice husky, he could still feel his eyes on him, scanning him. eyes present on the arc of his shoulders , then burning ICY holes down from the branching of two shoulderblades to the dip of his spine, and then his rear. Perhaps this was a sign of combat, an examination, but he knows the Riverman considers himself a stalwart of the western civil castration, and knows he is looking at him for reasons filled with discontent and unknown. Hanzo dare not speak on it, the situation oddly fragile and any word misspoken, would be like tossing a stone through a door made of paper. He had no intention of finding out what the outcome of the stone would be, but rather opted to allow him to observe, watch and make notes with his mind.

For a moment he bends over and dips his head in he water, the refreshing wreath of lukewarm summer riverwater a halo of refreshment along his brow. Hanzo wrang his hair free of any moisture, and stepped back onto the riverbank, taking long, soft strides back to the cave, where the floor was cool enough to turn his feet into glass. Outside, the sky rumbles with the fervor of the gods themselves, and in a moment, a CRACK breaches along the lateral of the skyline, lightning, and then the rain comes. He turns on the ball of his foot, still nude from bathing, and bypasses the other, crossing the expanse to get to the oven, and pull his food out from the heat of the kindle. Again, the sky CRACKS with a ferocity of something from the other world, the rain pouring tenfold, and chunks of hail forming from sleet, falling like small angry stars into the river, and onto the riverbank. Worried (though he wouldn't admit it.) He beckons to the man.

❝There are places I have not seen, people I have not met, songs I have not listened to, smells I have not yet experienced❞.

The world was still a wonderful place. Conflicts might had lessened the view to some, but Zenyatta still held the world for what it truly was: a wonder, an experience every human and omnic should feel, something to smile at when times are dire and grey.

❝To not care for the place we can call home would contradict all efforts for peace and prosperity. We cannot experience tranquility if we turn blind to the wonders the world still have to offer.❞

There is so much harmony in a world that is graced with agnoy.” He says softly, kneeling opposite to the other with eyes low and breath hitched. “I strive to find peace. To end the storm that clutches at my heart, a freedom perhaps.”

mccree mouths ‘i am skinning this foal’ with an uncharacteristic immaturity, rolling his eyes as he skirts the perimeter of the cave and turns his head. the stench was horrible, even from this far away; he wasn’t sure whether the man had good hygiene as a priority, but if they were to work together, he would do so on his terms. – though perhaps part of the allure of the wolfman was his smell, shitty as it was.

“ i brought a gift basket. it’s full of the things you like. ” a small grin as he says so, tapping his hat knowingly. “ in honor of our partnership. ya don’t mind, do you, hanzo? i made this myself. ” in truth, he had gotten it for five dollars at the nearest supermarket, pre-tied; the fact that the riverboat owner even bothered getting hanzo a ‘welcome to civilization’ package should be touching enough.

a curious glance around the inside of the cave, and its furs hidden from plain sight; he sees no cabinet to put it in, or a fridge to keep it from spoiling. he should’ve known. mccree scratches his beard idly, taking careful steps to cross over to the man’s side. SLOWLY, now – so he doesn’t startle him and get his hand bitten off.

“ so… bambi. she meant to be dinner? i have a good bottle of cadet back on th’ ship, if ya wanna come with. ”

Idle hands came to the cuts of meat, each presented, but not separated as he liked. And with brandishing of a knife, one he had made himself with soft copper an a hot fire, he separated meat from ligaments, fillet some from the bone, and placed the raw venison on a clean sheet of parchment, before dashing them with a generous amount dried seasonings and vegetables, and placing them duitfuilly in the small kindle ( that was really a fire-pit with clay bricks to keep the fire inside) to cook.  He paid no attention to the man, nor the goods that he brought, and yet, did not object to him staying, but he was no dog, no animal, and he would not acknowledge him with the contention and condescending wisps in his voice. He was soft. The elders would have had him flogged for his monotonous insults of the kind. Disrespect was always paid for with punishment of the physical kind, but Hanzo dare not lay a hand on the man of the riverboat, gods knew why. He bypassed him, hands coming to his undershirt and bottom garments, taking them off, leaving him in his fundoshi as he placed the garments on strings, and laid them into the brisk part of the river to clean. he didn't know if the man watched him, probably so with hose bright esoteric eyes and gaze of confusion, burning holes into Hanzo’s shoulderblades, but he couldn't care. He stood up and stretched. Unraveling one side of his fundoshi, and placing it on the riverbank, before stepping into the water to cleanse himself of the blood and musk of a fresh kill.

He keeps his back to him as he uses the freshness of the water to clean blood and gore from his arms and shoulders, and then, he frowns. 

Oh world, her name behest in the throat of the ancients, even as a laugh, or a careless whisper could be drowned out by the winds that It presented. The difference betwixt the human and the Omnic, lesso the blood and the beating heart, but rather, the shape the world molded around them In a gall of wonder, he inquires.

“What makes you care for this world, as you do ?

“SHOW YOURSELF COWBOY! I’M NOT PLAYING ANY GAMES WITH YOU.”

Its this one again. Crass attitude, Sulfur stench. Notions as esoteric as the bible and its intentions, but Hanzo hadn't been a fool since his boyhood, and he wouldn't start now. He draws the bow, string prim and perfect, a SIX INCH pause betwixt he and the darkness before he spoke.

“Wake a sleeping dragon, DIE like a fool.”