Tradition and technology rarely make for good bedfellows and despite it's necessity, working for the Yakuza is just as terrible an idea. Sombra hadn't received a terribly warm welcome at the Shimada estate, but between her peerless work and the favor of the younger lord, she was generally left to her own devices. However, at one in the morning, there is very little interaction with the older members of the house.
Keeping such unholy hours allows her to dress as she likes, instead of kowtowing to the sensibilities of a bunch of old fogeys - the only folks around to judge her are the skeleton shift worth of guards, and in her opinion she's a little above their paygrade.
At least, that's the look she's giving the guard eyeing her down while she eats. It might also be the fact of the sweater; backless to let her augments get some sorely needed air and scandalously short, she at least has the good grace to wear it in black.
She winks at the guard who huffs and leaves her, leaning on the island with her reheated bento as she pulls up a vidscreen of a late night variety show.
Whatever his father or the elders needed Sombra for, he didn't really care. He didn't really care about much when it came to the family business, mostly because it seemed boring. His brother Hanzo would inherit everything to do with the business anyhow, so why bother? He kept himself in good enough favor with his father and his ear open enough to make sure he had one foot in the door. Good enough for him. Giving favor to the hacker only helped cement his place in the family with as little work as possible, so long as she didn't turn and back stab them. Still, he could wiggle out of that problem as well, he was sure.
Thankfully it wasn't a problem and she had apparently been working out rather fine. Speaking of fine... she was. Very fine. She had clearly gotten his attention a few times now, which, being real, wasn't that hard to do. If it had two legs and a nice butt, he was no doubt going to check a person out. She most definitely had two legs (both of which were very appealing) and a very nice looking back side. He had found himself smirking smugly after her when she left a room, that was for sure.
But you don't mess with those employed by the family. That was at least one golden rule he had so far honored pretty well. It was easier to sneak out to a club and meet strangers anyhow. At least they didn't know who the green haired boy was when he joined them on a dance floor. Or who to whine about when he left them on their own when he snuck home at night.
Like he was doing now.
One of the guards that was meant to keep an eye on him ran up to him as he slipped through the gate, not at all sneaking like he should. The guard pleaded with him to be more careful, young lord! Take them WITH him, young lord! His father would have them all shot if Genji kept sneaking out like this. At least take them WITH him. "[It is late! Who even will be up to notice?]" He rattled back in Japanese to the guard before dashing inside with a laugh.
After tonight, food was needed, as was a drink.
He passes a guard who was leaving the kitchen in a huff, a brow raised to that, but he thinks nothing of it, until he gets there. Pausing at the door frame he crossed his arms, looking over the black clad figure leaning on the counter. A low to high to low again whistle was given, head lifted and arms crossed.
"You get away with dressing like that? You must have pleased someone, or you have a good set of balls hidden under there." He sounds amused, speaking English in a thick accent.
Sombra's eyes snap to Genji when he enters the doorway, before looking back to the vidscreen and trying to stifle a smirk. She and the younger Shimada seemed to be cut from the same cloth and the swagger he rolls in with from God-knows-where is enough to prove it.
"Maybe I just wanted to be comfortable." She says, the false patience palpable as she lays the chopsticks down and faces the young lord. Her accent is a bit more subtle, though it explains why her Japanese is so formal, aside from dealing with one of the most powerful families in Japan.
She's still leaning, one elbow on the counter, and every ounce of propriety or professionalism she's had in their previous meetings is non-existent. There is not an ounce of genuflection either, her eyes flicking pointedly up and down Genji's body.
The hacker gives a little 'hmmm' and a 'how about that' flick of her eyebrows before she meets his eye.
"It's my day off, in the middle of the night." And you don't own me.
With that, she picks up one of the sushi pieces and pops it into her mouth as she looks back at the vidscreen.
Even for going out he dresses a bit more appropriate than her. He might push a lot of his fathers rules and buttons, but he's covered. Black slacks, green and pristine white clean sneakers of brand name, and a black button up over a white tank top. The button up might be more then half undone and his green hair might be completely out of order right now, but it was easy attire that helped him blend in. If blending in while being a loud ass was possible.
Then there was Sombra, who would literally kill 20 club goers in one glance in this get-up.
Not that he was complaining. He honestly couldn't take his eyes off her for the moment. "I think you might be the only one comfortable around here, dressed like that." A pause then he added. "Excluding me." He shrugged, coming in now to move to the refrigerator to swipe a plum. "I am pretty comfortable with seeing more of you."
Day off in the night, huh? He wouldn't dream of owning her. At least not in that sense. Owning her in other ways, maybe. He'd had his eye on her for some time now, but honestly, he only looked. Some rules he didn't push too hard.
"Your night off, and you hang around here..., in my way, yes, actually, ...in the kitchen? You can't think of a better place to go, Sombra-chan." He grinned at her as he tacked on the cutsie honorific.
It's a quick quip, more amused than irritated as she watched him head to the fridge. The lingering of his gaze makes emboldens her further, slinking around the counter to meet him on the same side of the counter. Her movement makes the already dangerously short hem of her sweater dress rise another half-inch.
"Well..." she begins, folding her arms. "Your dad thought it ...'a failure of hospitality' if a foreign young lady were forced to leave his estate for anything short of an emergency."
In other words, she's being watched and not particularly willing to test trigger fingers. For such a proper explanation, the faint halo of purple light gives away her irritation.
Casually, she hops up to sit on the counter and stretches her legs out, wiggling her toes for emphasis and highlighting how short the 'dress' really is.
"Either way, something tells me that you don't mind me being in the way and kitchen has food, Shimada-san."
He's been on the move for a while now, keeping one step ahead of hunters, the clan, and other problems. One step ahead of being captured and forced to conform to the way they wished him to be. He moved swiftly when he could. Swam through oceans if he had to, took to the air when he wanted, and ran under cover when around others. In cities and other locations where he might be seen.
Genji wasn't sure which city he had ended up in, but the smell was good. Like candy and warm. Like spice and heat and magic. There was something about this place that smelled welcoming but dangerous. On his first night there, someone saw him, but not human him. Dragon him. He had made a mistake of not changing before landing, scarring some people. They screamed, he roared, they shot at him, he took off, shifted and hid.
Reports of a dragon were storming the local news. People claiming that it was the cause of crimes, or missing people. That the break in at the gas station was a dragon smashing in the window, not a armed man looking for a bottle of whiskey and throwing a fit. A girl went missing. Must be the dragon.
For Genji, he was still hurt from the last fight with his clan, so he didn't just leave the city. Instead he wandered it, green hair under a ball cap, body tightly bound with bandages to help his wounds, but also around his neck to hide the fade of scales at his neck. Once in a while, that smell of magic got his attention and he hated himself for searching it out. But it smelled so good...
The first thing that [The Girl] learned about magic was this: keep your True Name safe. It turns out that a lot of the basics about magic applied to hacking - know what you're after and be careful of the strange things you meet in the middle of the night.
Actually, that could be applied to running the streets too.
She kept her friends close, their enemies closer and the truth tied tight behind her ribcage. All her life she seemed to walk the line between two worlds - legal and illegal, light and dark. One bad night came and everything changed.
There had been bullets and and she was pretty sure she was bleeding when she cast that first spell. Everything during the spell she remembers as clear as her own heartbeat and ever since then, the youngbloods in the gang were very careful of disturbing their big sis. See brujeria was a thing that everyone sort of did, but becoming a true bruja was something only the foolish chased after. So she learned everything she could until the night they tried to kill Los Muertos - then she traded everything that she was for everything she could be.
That had been a long time ago.
Her power had grown over the years, partly the potency of her blood and partly the potency of her deal as such a young age. For a long time, it would bleed off of her in waves, spiking with her emotions and setting anything that could sense magic on edge instantly.
But not anymore!
After some serious searching and cracking a private server of information, Sombra found the solution to her problems. She stopped swearing, stopped eating fast food and abstained from sex for a month, praying Hail Mary and bathing in the sea in the dead of night once a week. Once the time was right she lit candles and drew salt circles and sung to the spirits of her family and the brujas that had come before her. Then she slept like the dead for ten hours.
Today was day one after solving this ‘magic bleed’ problem she’d been having and she felt so much clearer. She’d only gotten a few weird looks from folks she knew were magic - the clerk with the super clear third eye, a dude from the library she assumed was a werewolf a while ago. So a trip to the good supermarket was in order as she tried to shake the feeling of an unfamiliar gaze.
An unfamiliar gaze that had found the target he was looking for.
Genji pressed himself against a wall, having wandered for a bit of time now, trying to decide on the smells around here. It felt almost like home, yet better. Home was Order and Restriction, with kitsune-tsukai lurking around to assure his father of his containment. Home was watching your older brother break into two, twist and change. One half dying off into a pact with a oni. The other half running away, to leave the house hold burden on the younger one. Home was being brought before the council and forced into it's service.
Home was no more, when he was done with it. Burned and left to ash. What was left of the Shimada Clan was a handful of elders, a temple of smoke, and world news of the clan's fall.
And one angry oni looking to take it out on the last dragon. Dragons were rare, and rarer still were the long royal dragons like himself. He was literally in trouble no matter where he went. And yet here he was, taking a moment to relax. Sniffing out the smells of the area. A high concentration of magical beings were around here. In the OPEN no less.
He had wrapped himself in a long poncho, and hid his face and hair with a long brim hat, moving through this place going from one smell to another. After a few runs ins with others, that pancho turned to a black hoodie and that hat turned to a ball cap, making it easier to blend in with the youth here. He found too many things here. A wolf, he had smelled those before and did not like it. A creature he was unsure of, a man that smelled of salt and fire, another that came to him as sand and wood smoke. And then there was the one that caught his attention.
A woman, he decided, moving towards a market. He really should go the other way, but the smell she gave off was sweet. Appealing. He had a weakness for sweets, and for ladies. In that very Dragon and Princess way, sadly. He moved inside the market, and wandered between shelves, hands in his pockets, trying to follow her with out being noticed. To a common magic person, that magical bleed problem might seem to have gone away, but to something as old as he was, he understood what it was he was following. It pulled at his belly and made it growl as he stalked, trying to catch just a good sight of her.
The thing about being a street kid is that old habits never left once you grew up.
For example: moving in circles makes it very easy to see when someone is tailing you. And hoo-boy, was this guy following her.
Carefully, very carefully, she let her magic reach - to see this new entity in her territory. Reading labels on cans and boxes, she tried to stifle the shudder that arose from using her power this way. Before, she would get dull pings but this...oh, this was something profound.
This stranger felt like wind and fresh air and freedom - nothing like the crowded heat of the city.
He had found himself famished, more than he had realized, so as she fed him he slowly pushed that energy into recovery. Which also said he was very easy to tire out and crash. Which was a good thing, really. He needed the rest. He needed the rest badly.
When he woke the next morning, it had actually been a few days. A few day of his sleeping in a nest of pillows and stolen blankets from the girls bed, curled up and knocked out. He didn't want to be tempted by her bed itself, and yet he didn't want to be far away either. Her scent helped clam him in a way. And her room would keep him out of the way in case she had someone come over.
He didn't mean to sleep for so long, but if she did check on him, he would one, be out like a light, and to, be mending. When he did wake it was with a huge yawn, his tail laying out behind him, not hidden like he had done before, and his horns in full view. Light scaling over his forehead and cheeks, down his front arms. He yawned and stretched, groaning a bit as he sat up on the floor.
His hands ran down his horns and he frowned. Those needed to be put away. Genji sniffed, trying to check where he was, as if he forgot, and where SHE was, because he couldn't forget her.
For three days, Sombra had done her best to tend to her new guest and ignore the temptation that flooded her every time she saw him. Well, that was one way to put it at least. Her dreams, on the other hand, betrayed her and more than once she woke to arousal that was sure to summon him to her bed. Ever the gentleman, he never did follow the scent that she was sure hung in the air. Admittedly, she had become addicted to the feeling of his magic, his aura - whatever you called it and at the first opportunity, she swiped his hoodie to wear around the house.
Fortunately, Sombra's life remained uneventful after her guest's sudden arrival and she was able to keep the apartment quiet for the sake of Genji's recovery. This morning had been no different; she woke nearly with the sunrise and contented herself to reading and watching Genji sleep. His recovery was nothing short of miraculous and as he healed, he gained telltale signs of his true nature.
The scales appeared first, a pretty iridescent green along his browbone and cheeks. This morning the horns had returned to their full glory and if she were a gambler, she'd bet his tail was somewhere in the nest he'd made. She looked to him from her own nest on the bed, still wearing the hoodie that he'd shown up in and swimming in it a little considering their size difference.
"Hey," she greeted, her voice thick with sleep. "How are you feeling?"
He was a good boy. He needed his sleep and his recovery time, otherwise he might have climbed up into that bed of her several times already. He was already moving to rest his arms and head on the end of it, looking up to her from where he rested. She had his hoodie on, making him smile, a wee bit fangy smile.
"Much better. How long was I out?" He asked and rested his horned head on the end of her bed, eyes almost sparkling as he watched her so intensely. He knew he needed to hide his true nature, but he figured the witch wouldn't care so much really.
His fingers dug a bit into the blanket, and his head tilted to the side, resting there. "It feels like it must have been days." He said slowly.
Coding came as easily as breathing, as fluidly as thought and it had been strange to flirt with the omnic from a distance. The true identity of the friend she'd made had been a pleasant shock - A Shambali monk. They'd decided to meet in a hotel of her choosing, luxurious as if to highlight the contrast with his ascetic lifestyle.
She doesn't turn to look at him as he enters the suite, reclined on the bed in a bit of black and purple lingerie. The screen floating above her is showing off some variety show and is easily ignored in pursuit of more interesting activities.
"I hope you didn't have trouble finding this place."
Perhaps the real irony is that, comfortable though Zenyatta is with his own body, his knowledge is instinctual and lived rather than technical; on paper, Sombra probably knows more than he does about how he functions, and the thought is as amusing and it is intriguing. Yet they both have their mysteries, and it is those that he pursues all the way to her hotel room.
Luxury is a novelty for him. With his ragged trousers and worn sandals he looks comically out of place as he enters, on two feet rather than floating, but when he spots Sombra herself on the bed he sounds nothing but perfectly at home.
"I am here," he says, "and that is what counts. You look splendid," he adds almost absent-mindedly, and she does. Immaculately put together as always, although there is a great deal more of her smooth, lovely skin on display. If he looked closely, would he see the seams in her hands? Her back?
She watches Zenyatta, deep violet eyes flicking over him as the world still looks upside-down. It feels appropriate for someone like the monk and the absent sounding comment on her looks makes her grin.
"Thank you." Sombra stretches, a gesture born of her own vanity as much as it's done for his benefit. A lazy wave disperses the vidscreen that she'd been glancing at, a shower of spark like pixels flickering over her skin as she sits up.
The augmentation along her spine glows faintly, the seams branching from it seeming to shift to actual tattoo work along her shoulders and arms.
She is sinuous in every sense of the world, rising with a ruffled waterfall of dark hair and a subtle, lean roll of muscle along her back and shoulders. Small, smaller even than him, but strong.
Zenyatta hums in amusement.
"If I had second thoughts," he answers, "I would not be here at all. I trust you."
It is, perhaps, the most foolish offer an omnic could possibly make- his body, his brain, in the hands of Talon's most notorious hacker- but it is a true and honest gesture. Without a moment of hesitation he settles down on the bed beside her and, head cocked playfully to one side, kicks his sandals off with a flourish. "Unless you are the one with a change of heart?"
Los Muertos had grown with her knowledge and Talon's money, the sole consistent force in a country where corporations and politicians traded the governing seats like chips in a poker game. They had become too formidable and Akande, perhaps foolishly, sent Sombra in to destroy the monster she had created. It made sense on paper, at the very least. Everyone, even Talon, knew that Sombra was on her own side and no one else's. Akande was self-reliant to a fault, and his solitary nature led him to the only assumption that he'd ever made about Sombra: that the only thing Sombra would protect with her full cut-throat deviousness was herself.
For the first time - Sombra had a chance. A single chance to tip the scales.
The squad that accompanied her to the Talon takeover of Los Muertos was quickly dispatched by some of the only friends Sombra had ever truly had. And for two whole days, the gang which Talon was so sure was unorganized held off one of the most powerful organizations in the world out of sheer territorial spite.
Three days seemed to be the limit of her miracle, but Sombra was good - best in the world at doing things she shouldn't and having things she wasn't supposed to. So she went out alone early in the morning and harassed the kill squad looking for her personally. She led them on a goose chase, parkouring, and trans-locating across rooftops until she reached her target and jumped straight through the window of the building where the Overwatch field team had been waiting for their contact.
Too many weapons were drawn and all Sombra did was offer a bright "Hola!" before all hell broke loose.
After all of the shouting and gunfighting and swearing and explaining far too many times that Yes, SHE was the contact and YES, she was defecting - she found herself handcuffed and sitting bored in an interrogation room. At least until the man of the hour strolled in.
"Jesse McCree," she began brightly. "Am I right in assuming that I'm getting lucky with you?"
[As quiet as it was kept, rep was the true currency of Night City. Eddies couldn't save you if everyone in town knew you were a fuck-up and fixers were known to cover for runners that knew how to get shit done. There was a strange sort of balance to the way of things that newcomers to the city had to experience themselves.
There were of course outliers, folks who refused to fit neatly into the ecosystem of NC and there was no one who liked being on the edge more than Sombra.
She'd established herself as a mystery and was good enough at net-running to keep it that way, only available to fixers who knew a guy that knew a guy. It was mostly a bunch of proxy identities that she used to weed out clients but the veneer of exclusivity meant that the work she did paid handsomely with the added bonus of giving her enough downtime to play with security protocols as they developed. Staying sharp in NC was as necessary as breathing, after all.
While Sombra was whispered to be as reckless and cocky as she was effective, she was not stupid. And when the message came through from a known Arasaka proxy that the corp looking for an unaffiliated netrunner, Sombra knew to throw her hat in fast.
Three proxies later Sombra had passed scrutiny and was deigned good enough to talk to an actual contact from Arasaka.
So here she was in a nice, little teahouse in Japantown waiting.]
(he hates night city. hates the sounds, the smells...just about everything about it. nevermind that he does not know night city and planning for every eventuality and keeping hanako-sama safe is nigh-impossible.
still, when she tells him that he is meet a netrunner of immeasurable talent (high praise from a woman so skilled herself) to do some contract work, oda does nothing more than agree.
when he arrives at the designated rendezvous, the plan being to assess the netrunner and bring them to hanako-sama if the meeting goes well, he scans the small pool of patrols and finds that the netrunner is at least punctual. he walks towards the table and gives a formal bow.)
You are Sombra; I am the one for whom you wait, (oda advises---he does not bother to introduce himself as that does not matter at this point. all she needs to know is he is the contact sent. it should be fairly obvious given his nice suit and the arasaka logo on the exposed ceramic of his endoskeleton.)
[Her eyebrows skim a little high; she was expecting more of a run-around, for the corp to yank her chain a little. Still, she knows enough to bow her head when he bows - no reason to be rude.]
I am indeed.
[Purple eyes flick over him, absorbing details greedily: his dress implies association with high standing, though a little too simple to be The High Rank. He's handsome, she notes, probably a guard to someone visible.
She flashes a smile that's full of teeth, as her gaze rolls over him once more. Yeah, he's cute.]
You got a name? I'd like to know who I'm working with.
It was something Sombra knew when one of her few friends called in a favor. Meet with some old businessman, be his arm candy for a few days - with separate hotel rooms; it was something that should have been light work for the runner.
The catch, as it turned out, was that this whole affair was to happen in Japan, and said 'old businessman' was speedrunning his way through...what appeared to be a bit of a crisis about his age. Lovely.
Fortunately, Sombra's command of Japanese was pretty good and once she figured out ol' Yamada-san could be easily provoked into drinking enough that he needed to sleep it off, she happily made sure that her evenings were free and she was left to her own devices without too much work.
The fun of escaping Yamada wore off quickly, as did clubbing, leaving Sombra all dressed up and nowhere to go, except for the bar of the hotel. Nothing against the place, Arasaka did some preem work and if she'd come under better circumstances she would have likely loved the place.
Homesick for Night City, Sombra took her seat at the bar and nursed a beer, people-watching as the night went on. It went on like this until she spied what looked like a familiar haircut, unusual for the clientele of this hotel.
"There's no way" she muttered to herself, watching this stranger and trying to keep hope under control.]
(oda does not like leaving hanako alone even if she is staying at the arasaka compound surrounded by plenty of other guards. his need for control is not easily relented and yet here he is: stuck on mandatory annual vacation. the hotel is opulent and he has quite a nice suite but oda would confess he finds himself a bit aimless without a schedule.
he is not one to drink but the bar at least offers a change in scenery. oda slides into an empty stool debates an order until something catches his attention.
it cannot be.
but it looks like her. he had not seen or heard from sombra since their successful job for hanako-sama. not to mention the night before...what is she doing here of all places? oda rises, hoping that he can excuse himself unnoticed.)
[As soon as he gets up, Sombra knows that it's Oda - no doubt trying to avoid her. She grins as she rises, telling the bartender "I'll be right back" before moving to catch Oda before he's too far gone.]
お久しぶりです、小田さん
[He's quick, but she's quicker - standing at his side before he can get too far.]
(oda freezes wishing he had not been right. it does not help at all to see sombra shockingly in a very nice dress that is rather eye catching.)
What brings you to Japan, Sombra-san? (he asks politely even as he tries to formulate an exit strategy. it is not that he dislikes sombra; quite the contrary. but their one night stand had complicated quite a bit.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Lord Shimada AU (eventual NSFW)
Keeping such unholy hours allows her to dress as she likes, instead of kowtowing to the sensibilities of a bunch of old fogeys - the only folks around to judge her are the skeleton shift worth of guards, and in her opinion she's a little above their paygrade.
At least, that's the look she's giving the guard eyeing her down while she eats. It might also be the fact of the sweater; backless to let her augments get some sorely needed air and scandalously short, she at least has the good grace to wear it in black.
She winks at the guard who huffs and leaves her, leaning on the island with her reheated bento as she pulls up a vidscreen of a late night variety show.
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Thankfully it wasn't a problem and she had apparently been working out rather fine. Speaking of fine... she was. Very fine. She had clearly gotten his attention a few times now, which, being real, wasn't that hard to do. If it had two legs and a nice butt, he was no doubt going to check a person out. She most definitely had two legs (both of which were very appealing) and a very nice looking back side. He had found himself smirking smugly after her when she left a room, that was for sure.
But you don't mess with those employed by the family. That was at least one golden rule he had so far honored pretty well. It was easier to sneak out to a club and meet strangers anyhow. At least they didn't know who the green haired boy was when he joined them on a dance floor. Or who to whine about when he left them on their own when he snuck home at night.
Like he was doing now.
One of the guards that was meant to keep an eye on him ran up to him as he slipped through the gate, not at all sneaking like he should. The guard pleaded with him to be more careful, young lord! Take them WITH him, young lord! His father would have them all shot if Genji kept sneaking out like this. At least take them WITH him. "[It is late! Who even will be up to notice?]" He rattled back in Japanese to the guard before dashing inside with a laugh.
After tonight, food was needed, as was a drink.
He passes a guard who was leaving the kitchen in a huff, a brow raised to that, but he thinks nothing of it, until he gets there. Pausing at the door frame he crossed his arms, looking over the black clad figure leaning on the counter. A low to high to low again whistle was given, head lifted and arms crossed.
"You get away with dressing like that? You must have pleased someone, or you have a good set of balls hidden under there." He sounds amused, speaking English in a thick accent.
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Sombra's eyes snap to Genji when he enters the doorway, before looking back to the vidscreen and trying to stifle a smirk. She and the younger Shimada seemed to be cut from the same cloth and the swagger he rolls in with from God-knows-where is enough to prove it.
"Maybe I just wanted to be comfortable." She says, the false patience palpable as she lays the chopsticks down and faces the young lord. Her accent is a bit more subtle, though it explains why her Japanese is so formal, aside from dealing with one of the most powerful families in Japan.
She's still leaning, one elbow on the counter, and every ounce of propriety or professionalism she's had in their previous meetings is non-existent. There is not an ounce of genuflection either, her eyes flicking pointedly up and down Genji's body.
The hacker gives a little 'hmmm' and a 'how about that' flick of her eyebrows before she meets his eye.
"It's my day off, in the middle of the night." And you don't own me.
With that, she picks up one of the sushi pieces and pops it into her mouth as she looks back at the vidscreen.
"Not in your way, am I Shimada-san?"
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Then there was Sombra, who would literally kill 20 club goers in one glance in this get-up.
Not that he was complaining. He honestly couldn't take his eyes off her for the moment. "I think you might be the only one comfortable around here, dressed like that." A pause then he added. "Excluding me." He shrugged, coming in now to move to the refrigerator to swipe a plum. "I am pretty comfortable with seeing more of you."
Day off in the night, huh? He wouldn't dream of owning her. At least not in that sense. Owning her in other ways, maybe. He'd had his eye on her for some time now, but honestly, he only looked. Some rules he didn't push too hard.
"Your night off, and you hang around here..., in my way, yes, actually, ...in the kitchen? You can't think of a better place to go, Sombra-chan." He grinned at her as he tacked on the cutsie honorific.
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It's a quick quip, more amused than irritated as she watched him head to the fridge. The lingering of his gaze makes emboldens her further, slinking around the counter to meet him on the same side of the counter. Her movement makes the already dangerously short hem of her sweater dress rise another half-inch.
"Well..." she begins, folding her arms. "Your dad thought it ...'a failure of hospitality' if a foreign young lady were forced to leave his estate for anything short of an emergency."
In other words, she's being watched and not particularly willing to test trigger fingers. For such a proper explanation, the faint halo of purple light gives away her irritation.
Casually, she hops up to sit on the counter and stretches her legs out, wiggling her toes for emphasis and highlighting how short the 'dress' really is.
"Either way, something tells me that you don't mind me being in the way and kitchen has food, Shimada-san."
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hover to translate lol
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Dragons and Witches (no doubt to be NSFW later)
Genji wasn't sure which city he had ended up in, but the smell was good. Like candy and warm. Like spice and heat and magic. There was something about this place that smelled welcoming but dangerous. On his first night there, someone saw him, but not human him. Dragon him. He had made a mistake of not changing before landing, scarring some people. They screamed, he roared, they shot at him, he took off, shifted and hid.
Reports of a dragon were storming the local news. People claiming that it was the cause of crimes, or missing people. That the break in at the gas station was a dragon smashing in the window, not a armed man looking for a bottle of whiskey and throwing a fit. A girl went missing. Must be the dragon.
For Genji, he was still hurt from the last fight with his clan, so he didn't just leave the city. Instead he wandered it, green hair under a ball cap, body tightly bound with bandages to help his wounds, but also around his neck to hide the fade of scales at his neck. Once in a while, that smell of magic got his attention and he hated himself for searching it out. But it smelled so good...
hope you like text lmao
Actually, that could be applied to running the streets too.
She kept her friends close, their enemies closer and the truth tied tight behind her ribcage. All her life she seemed to walk the line between two worlds - legal and illegal, light and dark. One bad night came and everything changed.
There had been bullets and and she was pretty sure she was bleeding when she cast that first spell. Everything during the spell she remembers as clear as her own heartbeat and ever since then, the youngbloods in the gang were very careful of disturbing their big sis. See brujeria was a thing that everyone sort of did, but becoming a true bruja was something only the foolish chased after. So she learned everything she could until the night they tried to kill Los Muertos - then she traded everything that she was for everything she could be.
That had been a long time ago.
Her power had grown over the years, partly the potency of her blood and partly the potency of her deal as such a young age. For a long time, it would bleed off of her in waves, spiking with her emotions and setting anything that could sense magic on edge instantly.
But not anymore!
After some serious searching and cracking a private server of information, Sombra found the solution to her problems. She stopped swearing, stopped eating fast food and abstained from sex for a month, praying Hail Mary and bathing in the sea in the dead of night once a week. Once the time was right she lit candles and drew salt circles and sung to the spirits of her family and the brujas that had come before her. Then she slept like the dead for ten hours.
Today was day one after solving this ‘magic bleed’ problem she’d been having and she felt so much clearer. She’d only gotten a few weird looks from folks she knew were magic - the clerk with the super clear third eye, a dude from the library she assumed was a werewolf a while ago. So a trip to the good supermarket was in order as she tried to shake the feeling of an unfamiliar gaze.
you know it!
Genji pressed himself against a wall, having wandered for a bit of time now, trying to decide on the smells around here. It felt almost like home, yet better. Home was Order and Restriction, with kitsune-tsukai lurking around to assure his father of his containment. Home was watching your older brother break into two, twist and change. One half dying off into a pact with a oni. The other half running away, to leave the house hold burden on the younger one. Home was being brought before the council and forced into it's service.
Home was no more, when he was done with it. Burned and left to ash. What was left of the Shimada Clan was a handful of elders, a temple of smoke, and world news of the clan's fall.
And one angry oni looking to take it out on the last dragon. Dragons were rare, and rarer still were the long royal dragons like himself. He was literally in trouble no matter where he went. And yet here he was, taking a moment to relax. Sniffing out the smells of the area. A high concentration of magical beings were around here. In the OPEN no less.
He had wrapped himself in a long poncho, and hid his face and hair with a long brim hat, moving through this place going from one smell to another. After a few runs ins with others, that pancho turned to a black hoodie and that hat turned to a ball cap, making it easier to blend in with the youth here. He found too many things here. A wolf, he had smelled those before and did not like it. A creature he was unsure of, a man that smelled of salt and fire, another that came to him as sand and wood smoke. And then there was the one that caught his attention.
A woman, he decided, moving towards a market. He really should go the other way, but the smell she gave off was sweet. Appealing. He had a weakness for sweets, and for ladies. In that very Dragon and Princess way, sadly. He moved inside the market, and wandered between shelves, hands in his pockets, trying to follow her with out being noticed. To a common magic person, that magical bleed problem might seem to have gone away, but to something as old as he was, he understood what it was he was following. It pulled at his belly and made it growl as he stalked, trying to catch just a good sight of her.
Re: you know it!
For example: moving in circles makes it very easy to see when someone is tailing you. And hoo-boy, was this guy following her.
Carefully, very carefully, she let her magic reach - to see this new entity in her territory. Reading labels on cans and boxes, she tried to stifle the shudder that arose from using her power this way. Before, she would get dull pings but this...oh, this was something profound.
This stranger felt like wind and fresh air and freedom - nothing like the crowded heat of the city.
Interesting...
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The Next Morning
When he woke the next morning, it had actually been a few days. A few day of his sleeping in a nest of pillows and stolen blankets from the girls bed, curled up and knocked out. He didn't want to be tempted by her bed itself, and yet he didn't want to be far away either. Her scent helped clam him in a way. And her room would keep him out of the way in case she had someone come over.
He didn't mean to sleep for so long, but if she did check on him, he would one, be out like a light, and to, be mending. When he did wake it was with a huge yawn, his tail laying out behind him, not hidden like he had done before, and his horns in full view. Light scaling over his forehead and cheeks, down his front arms. He yawned and stretched, groaning a bit as he sat up on the floor.
His hands ran down his horns and he frowned. Those needed to be put away. Genji sniffed, trying to check where he was, as if he forgot, and where SHE was, because he couldn't forget her.
Re: The Next Morning
Fortunately, Sombra's life remained uneventful after her guest's sudden arrival and she was able to keep the apartment quiet for the sake of Genji's recovery. This morning had been no different; she woke nearly with the sunrise and contented herself to reading and watching Genji sleep. His recovery was nothing short of miraculous and as he healed, he gained telltale signs of his true nature.
The scales appeared first, a pretty iridescent green along his browbone and cheeks. This morning the horns had returned to their full glory and if she were a gambler, she'd bet his tail was somewhere in the nest he'd made. She looked to him from her own nest on the bed, still wearing the hoodie that he'd shown up in and swimming in it a little considering their size difference.
"Hey," she greeted, her voice thick with sleep. "How are you feeling?"
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"Much better. How long was I out?" He asked and rested his horned head on the end of her bed, eyes almost sparkling as he watched her so intensely. He knew he needed to hide his true nature, but he figured the witch wouldn't care so much really.
His fingers dug a bit into the blanket, and his head tilted to the side, resting there. "It feels like it must have been days." He said slowly.
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Consensual hacking with Tekhartha
She doesn't turn to look at him as he enters the suite, reclined on the bed in a bit of black and purple lingerie. The screen floating above her is showing off some variety show and is easily ignored in pursuit of more interesting activities.
"I hope you didn't have trouble finding this place."
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Luxury is a novelty for him. With his ragged trousers and worn sandals he looks comically out of place as he enters, on two feet rather than floating, but when he spots Sombra herself on the bed he sounds nothing but perfectly at home.
"I am here," he says, "and that is what counts. You look splendid," he adds almost absent-mindedly, and she does. Immaculately put together as always, although there is a great deal more of her smooth, lovely skin on display. If he looked closely, would he see the seams in her hands? Her back?
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"Thank you." Sombra stretches, a gesture born of her own vanity as much as it's done for his benefit. A lazy wave disperses the vidscreen that she'd been glancing at, a shower of spark like pixels flickering over her skin as she sits up.
The augmentation along her spine glows faintly, the seams branching from it seeming to shift to actual tattoo work along her shoulders and arms.
"Last chance to back out, Zen."
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Zenyatta hums in amusement.
"If I had second thoughts," he answers, "I would not be here at all. I trust you."
It is, perhaps, the most foolish offer an omnic could possibly make- his body, his brain, in the hands of Talon's most notorious hacker- but it is a true and honest gesture. Without a moment of hesitation he settles down on the bed beside her and, head cocked playfully to one side, kicks his sandals off with a flourish. "Unless you are the one with a change of heart?"
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Defection AU
Los Muertos had grown with her knowledge and Talon's money, the sole consistent force in a country where corporations and politicians traded the governing seats like chips in a poker game. They had become too formidable and Akande, perhaps foolishly, sent Sombra in to destroy the monster she had created. It made sense on paper, at the very least. Everyone, even Talon, knew that Sombra was on her own side and no one else's.
Akande was self-reliant to a fault, and his solitary nature led him to the only assumption that he'd ever made about Sombra: that the only thing Sombra would protect with her full cut-throat deviousness was herself.
For the first time - Sombra had a chance. A single chance to tip the scales.
The squad that accompanied her to the Talon takeover of Los Muertos was quickly dispatched by some of the only friends Sombra had ever truly had. And for two whole days, the gang which Talon was so sure was unorganized held off one of the most powerful organizations in the world out of sheer territorial spite.
Three days seemed to be the limit of her miracle, but Sombra was good - best in the world at doing things she shouldn't and having things she wasn't supposed to. So she went out alone early in the morning and harassed the kill squad looking for her personally. She led them on a goose chase, parkouring, and trans-locating across rooftops until she reached her target and jumped straight through the window of the building where the Overwatch field team had been waiting for their contact.
Too many weapons were drawn and all Sombra did was offer a bright "Hola!" before all hell broke loose.
After all of the shouting and gunfighting and swearing and explaining far too many times that Yes, SHE was the contact and YES, she was defecting - she found herself handcuffed and sitting bored in an interrogation room. At least until the man of the hour strolled in.
"Jesse McCree," she began brightly. "Am I right in assuming that I'm getting lucky with you?"
2077 AU
There were of course outliers, folks who refused to fit neatly into the ecosystem of NC and there was no one who liked being on the edge more than Sombra.
She'd established herself as a mystery and was good enough at net-running to keep it that way, only available to fixers who knew a guy that knew a guy. It was mostly a bunch of proxy identities that she used to weed out clients but the veneer of exclusivity meant that the work she did paid handsomely with the added bonus of giving her enough downtime to play with security protocols as they developed. Staying sharp in NC was as necessary as breathing, after all.
While Sombra was whispered to be as reckless and cocky as she was effective, she was not stupid. And when the message came through from a known Arasaka proxy that the corp looking for an unaffiliated netrunner, Sombra knew to throw her hat in fast.
Three proxies later Sombra had passed scrutiny and was deigned good enough to talk to an actual contact from Arasaka.
So here she was in a nice, little teahouse in Japantown waiting.]
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still, when she tells him that he is meet a netrunner of immeasurable talent (high praise from a woman so skilled herself) to do some contract work, oda does nothing more than agree.
when he arrives at the designated rendezvous, the plan being to assess the netrunner and bring them to hanako-sama if the meeting goes well, he scans the small pool of patrols and finds that the netrunner is at least punctual. he walks towards the table and gives a formal bow.)
You are Sombra; I am the one for whom you wait, (oda advises---he does not bother to introduce himself as that does not matter at this point. all she needs to know is he is the contact sent. it should be fairly obvious given his nice suit and the arasaka logo on the exposed ceramic of his endoskeleton.)
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I am indeed.
[Purple eyes flick over him, absorbing details greedily: his dress implies association with high standing, though a little too simple to be The High Rank. He's handsome, she notes, probably a guard to someone visible.
She flashes a smile that's full of teeth, as her gaze rolls over him once more. Yeah, he's cute.]
You got a name? I'd like to know who I'm working with.
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he is here on business, after all.)
Oda, (he answers tersely before sliding into the seat opposite her.) I am your prospective employer's bodyguard.
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Social Butterfly Effect (with arasakadogs)
It was something Sombra knew when one of her few friends called in a favor. Meet with some old businessman, be his arm candy for a few days - with separate hotel rooms; it was something that should have been light work for the runner.
The catch, as it turned out, was that this whole affair was to happen in Japan, and said 'old businessman' was speedrunning his way through...what appeared to be a bit of a crisis about his age. Lovely.
Fortunately, Sombra's command of Japanese was pretty good and once she figured out ol' Yamada-san could be easily provoked into drinking enough that he needed to sleep it off, she happily made sure that her evenings were free and she was left to her own devices without too much work.
The fun of escaping Yamada wore off quickly, as did clubbing, leaving Sombra all dressed up and nowhere to go, except for the bar of the hotel. Nothing against the place, Arasaka did some preem work and if she'd come under better circumstances she would have likely loved the place.
Homesick for Night City, Sombra took her seat at the bar and nursed a beer, people-watching as the night went on. It went on like this until she spied what looked like a familiar haircut, unusual for the clientele of this hotel.
"There's no way" she muttered to herself, watching this stranger and trying to keep hope under control.]
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he is not one to drink but the bar at least offers a change in scenery. oda slides into an empty stool debates an order until something catches his attention.
it cannot be.
but it looks like her. he had not seen or heard from sombra since their successful job for hanako-sama. not to mention the night before...what is she doing here of all places? oda rises, hoping that he can excuse himself unnoticed.)
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お久しぶりです、小田さん
[He's quick, but she's quicker - standing at his side before he can get too far.]
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What brings you to Japan, Sombra-san? (he asks politely even as he tries to formulate an exit strategy. it is not that he dislikes sombra; quite the contrary. but their one night stand had complicated quite a bit.)
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