#sunyctta

[ 竜 ] –         Nepal was not exactly the first destination on his list of aimless wandering. That was the definition of ‘aimless’ though, was it not? To be without aim. To have a destination in mind in the first place would have defeated the very purpose. Even then, Genji wasn’t sure what his purpose even was.

The moment he left the false sanctity of Geneva, his plan had been to run until he couldn’t anymore. Until he fell apart, or something else stopped him, whichever came first. He didn’t have a purpose anymore. He abandoned what he was built for the moment he crossed those borders. How easily they let him go had never set well with him. And maybe, just maybe, if he never stopped, they would never find him.

But now, here he was, walking, not running, through streets of red and brown brick and stacks upon stacks of brightly colored modernity weaved with an equally brilliant rainbow of flags and banners that celebrated nothing but life itself. And to top it off, at the side of an omnic, no less. A rather gentle, yet persistent omnic that had manged some how to work his way into the cyborg’s interest. Or maybe it was the fact that this sentient machine was the only glimpse of selfless promise he’d been given in... well... No. Genji couldn’t remember when someone had ever been so unyieldingly kind or patient, even when met with such hostility. And with no ulterior motive.

He humored the omnic. 

Finally, he followed him. Skeptic, distrusting, and still belligerent, yet he followed.

The sun was stubborn that evening. Hanging in the sky instead of sinking, it's colors bleeding into the clouds in something reminiscent of a painting, it managed to claim all of Genji's attention. He had originally come to the roof to meditate, but the sky had taken the breath from him, prompting him to remove his visor and sit. He had been there for hours before the sun finally gave in and began to set, the trail of light across the sky a comforting glow that reflected off of the visor he held in his hands. He averted his gaze from the sun, blinking his eyes to clear them a bit before looking down to the metal he so gingerly held. The visor was something he was grateful for--it hid him. Not only the scars, but his emotions. He could be laughing, crying--it did not matter what he was feeling, no one could see. Some people always seemed to know better, however, Zenyatta being one of them. The monk had an unnatural talent for reading people, one that did not go to waste. The omnic could see right through his shields, his lies, his visor.

He knew he was no longer alone almost instantly--it was a subtle change, one that took him months to learn to detect. A slight hum, one that brought with it a feeling of safety, of warmth. Turning his head toward Zenyatta, he let his lips twitch into a smile. He realized his visor was still off only after he had shifted, his fingers curling around the cool metal he held in his hands. He did not mind, not truly--Zenyatta had seen his face before, but it was something he tried to avoid.  And yet he did nothing to hide it, meeting his mentor’s eyes and smiling. Visor off, wind gentle on his face. Letting Zenyatta see.

“Good evening, master.” His voice lacked it’s usual metallic echo, something he had not heard for quite some time. 

It was ironic, she thought, as she wheeled her chair down the sidewalk, her lap laden with rather heavy boxes of spare materials. Nikki ran a repair shop, her own repair shop. She had stores and stores of parts, bits, and general stuff located on the premises. Certainly more than enough to handle whatever her customers threw at her.

So why was it that she had to go shopping for a new drill press when hers finally gave up the ghost? She should’ve been more than capable of whipping up a new one, or at least repairing the old one! But, no. She could design and build a functional robot with limited AI to clean windows, but simple shop tools were beyond her expertise.

And that drill press had been Dad’s, too. 

“Dammit,” she growled under her breath, turning the chair to face the street that lay between her and the cul-de-sac her shop was located on. “I’m getting to fucking sentimental over this.”

He was silent as he followed Zenyetta through the hallways of HQ. They had just gotten back and his robes were still torn and filthy, grime coating his plating and joints. It had been a tough and gruesome battle but they had won in the end.

Though that didn't being Atropa any joy, the past few weeks everything had been eating at his mind and the mission did nothing to improve this. He had already started to acknowledge his past actions, something for which he had started to hate himself for. Something that he was ever reminded of whenever he interacted with those of overwatch.

The mistrust in their eyes as he fought with him, those who avoided him and silently refused to aid him. Oh how many times would he have died if Zenyetta hadn't been their watching him. 

But the omnic caused a whole another problem, one that even Atropa was trying to wrap his mind around. A feeling that had developed over the past year, the omnics kindness, patience and time making him feel something he didn't even know he would ever desire. He almost wished that he didn't desire it considering how much it ate at him.