[He is not entirely off base. All omnics created with some intention of social interaction are released with some innate protocols- a certain level of grace, a particular eye for repetition, like any machine. But for the most part Zenyatta is letting the music guide one long limb after another, as if each and every process were part of its syncopated beat. He feels, and the feeling moves him to strange and wonderful new places.
And then the man stares at him with widening eyes- they are not so dark as they appear, he realises, a golden brown at their heart- and he blushes, the faintest shade of shell pink, and his heart warms.]
More than you think. [His voice laughs for him, bright with affection.] You are doing splendidly.
[Hanzo, who has not a single drop of formal training in dance, finds it difficult to follow along simply because of the way his mind works. He tends to think 2-3 steps ahead, analyzing things as he goes to make the best decisions during battle. Dancing seems so different.
Less structured, more loose. Movement based more on sound and instinct than selecting a target and hitting one's mark. Thankfully this music managed to do away with about 40% of his tendency to over-consider, and it's enough to make him light on his feet and amenable to the movements.]
Perhaps you should focus more on dancing than speaking if those are the things you will say.
[Oftentimes flirting went right over his head, yet others, like now, he finds sexual meanings in the most benign words.]
[It is more than empty flattery; little by little the edges of that rigid control seem to melt away, the weaponised steel of muscles softer beneath his touch and the playful rise and fall of the beat.
Moving as they are he can scarcely see the man's face, but Zenyatta likes to think he can hear a smile in his voice.]
I say nothing that is not true. [Now he stands on the ground. The difference in their height shrinks to nothing, and when he cocks his head he finds he can meet the man's eyes head-on.] This cannot be your first time.
[Already he is falling into step, a curious mirror to each sway and roll; his hands fall, quite naturally, to the man's waist and hip.]
[Hanzo eventually leans in closer to rest his forehead to Zenyatta's shoulder. He doesn't imagine he'd do something like this to any person he'd just met, but there's some comfort in knowing that the omnic probably wouldn't judge him for it, or take the gesture as anything more than face value. And, yes, perhaps that's Hanzo's ignorance toward omnics showing, but he doesn't hate them. He just doesn't know many personally.]
Your words could have been interpreted as vulgar by some. [He counters, but stays pressed close until Zenyatta deliberately tries to make eye contact. Hanzo's gaze is unwavering, and he squints as if to warn him not to continue down that line of questioning.
His jaw tightens when Zenyatta's hands find his waist, his gaze lowering then looking back up to his dance partner.]
Just the first time with someone such as yourself.
[It is most certainly showing, and if Hanzo is paying attention he might notice the faintest uptick in temperature as he settles against his shoulder- he is not infallible, after all, and this handsome stranger really is just that. Close, too. Closer than he expected, he can all but feel his breath misting his faceplate.
The moment does not last. The man stiffens in his arms, voice taught- and though Zenyatta would like more time to interpret the wariness in his eyes he averts his gaze, almost demure.]
Vulgar? Never. I was a monk, you know. [Keeping it light, still; there is no reason to antagonise him, no matter how ravenous his curiosity. In fact, as if in apology, he abruptly turns his back to the man and continues to dance, scarcely skipping more than a beat or two, and deadpans:] I am glad to be your first.
[He's paying attention, but not to the things that might give Zenyatta away. Hanzo dismisses that warmth as the heat from his face dissipating into whatever material his body was crafted from. For a brief moment he thinks he can understand how it was possible for a human to come to love an omnic.]
An omnic monk? [Hanzo nearly lets out an incredulous laugh, a defense mechanism to distance himself from the situation and how he truly feels. But before he can make a sound Zenyatta has turned away from him. The absence of warmth is causes is noticeable and he feels upset at himself for craving more of it.]
[Leaving had never been on the cards for Zenyatta; he had only meant to relieve the man and his wary disposition from the pressure of eye contact. But even before he is called (and briefly he reflects upon how touching that is in itself, in spite of his distraction) he is turning back, chin jerked upwards in a subtle display of surprise.]
"Omnic"? [Good intentions be damned. Zenyatta stares at him outright for a moment, letting the word and all its implications tick over for several seconds before he laughs outright, all sunlight and warmth.
He has met several locals already, still more newcomers like himself. And every one of them has called him a "robot".
He takes his hands once more, thumbs sweeping across the center of the man's palms.]
My name is Zenyatta. And it appears we are from the same world. Tell me, my friend, have you heard of the Shambali?
[Hanzo questions. It isn't as though it's something that the other could deny. It was as clear as day. Of course it hadn't occurred to him that this word was specific to someone from their timeline. Not immediately, at least. Perhaps because he had seen Zenyatta and knew that they were from the same place right away, he assumed that maybe the same could have been done simply from looking at him. Clearly that isn't the case. Hanzo doesn't look so different in comparison to many of the other humans he's come across.]
Zenyatta? Pleased to meet you. My name is Hanzo.
[There's the slightest bow of his head in respect before he responds.]
Yes. [He nearly points out that he recalls a news story in which a prominent member of the Shambali was killed by terrorists, but decides it is an inappropriate thing to bring up following an introduction. At least in that manner.] Mondatta was said to have done many great things.
[The kaleidoscope twists, the colours shift, and for a moment their realignment is dazzling; each feature knits itself together, those high cheeks and proud brow and the shadows beneath his eyes. Genji's lips had always been a ruin when he knew it, but he had seen the photograph he kept in his room of two boys with full, clever mouths. Zenyatta stills, statuesque, and stares at Hanzo's face as if seeing it for the first time.
He is slow to react to Hanzo's comment, even as the name Mondatta catches in him like a thorn.]
... ah. Yes. He- was a remarkable individual. [Remarkable does not begin to cover it. But his attention is being steadily pulled back, and back...]
You are Hanzo Shimada. [Matter-of-factly stated. He has no doubts now.] Your brother is one of my students.
[His eyes go wide when Zenyatta speaks next, shaking his head slowly purely out of disbelief.]
No...
[Surely it couldn't be? What were the chances that an omnic he crosses paths with here simply by chance turns out to know his brother. Not just know him, but knows enough to identify him by name. Does Genji speak of him? Is it with hatred and disdain? He can't imagine anything else.
If that is the case, then the pleasantries he's exchanged with Zenyatta so far are surely to come to an end. He's not sure what to do, but he finds himself taking a step back, then another. He's not so much backing away from the omnic as he is the memory of the things he's done--the things he's ashamed of.]
[Hanzo recoils from him as if he were a viper in robes, the whites of his eyes pale and bare, and guilt lances painfully through Zenyatta's core. There is fear beneath the uncertainty, just a spark, but it is enough to burn through whatever affinity they might have built between them in an instant.
The breath's width of space between them widens in an instant.]
Hanzo...
[Part of him would like to reach out to him, try to take his hands and prevent him from running, but to touch him might break the fragile threads of trust they have woven between him; his hands hover in the air between them, faltering.]
[No, he does not have to, he supposes. But he absolutely wants to. He has no interest discussing things further with the omnic. He was caught off guard by it and his emotional response to that was too strong for him to keep level-headed during the conversation.
Hanzo shakes his head, turns around, and does not stop walking.]
hanzo - arrival log i
[He is not entirely off base. All omnics created with some intention of social interaction are released with some innate protocols- a certain level of grace, a particular eye for repetition, like any machine. But for the most part Zenyatta is letting the music guide one long limb after another, as if each and every process were part of its syncopated beat. He feels, and the feeling moves him to strange and wonderful new places.
And then the man stares at him with widening eyes- they are not so dark as they appear, he realises, a golden brown at their heart- and he blushes, the faintest shade of shell pink, and his heart warms.]
More than you think. [His voice laughs for him, bright with affection.] You are doing splendidly.
no subject
Less structured, more loose. Movement based more on sound and instinct than selecting a target and hitting one's mark. Thankfully this music managed to do away with about 40% of his tendency to over-consider, and it's enough to make him light on his feet and amenable to the movements.]
Perhaps you should focus more on dancing than speaking if those are the things you will say.
[Oftentimes flirting went right over his head, yet others, like now, he finds sexual meanings in the most benign words.]
no subject
Moving as they are he can scarcely see the man's face, but Zenyatta likes to think he can hear a smile in his voice.]
I say nothing that is not true. [Now he stands on the ground. The difference in their height shrinks to nothing, and when he cocks his head he finds he can meet the man's eyes head-on.] This cannot be your first time.
[Already he is falling into step, a curious mirror to each sway and roll; his hands fall, quite naturally, to the man's waist and hip.]
no subject
Your words could have been interpreted as vulgar by some. [He counters, but stays pressed close until Zenyatta deliberately tries to make eye contact. Hanzo's gaze is unwavering, and he squints as if to warn him not to continue down that line of questioning.
His jaw tightens when Zenyatta's hands find his waist, his gaze lowering then looking back up to his dance partner.]
Just the first time with someone such as yourself.
no subject
The moment does not last. The man stiffens in his arms, voice taught- and though Zenyatta would like more time to interpret the wariness in his eyes he averts his gaze, almost demure.]
Vulgar? Never. I was a monk, you know. [Keeping it light, still; there is no reason to antagonise him, no matter how ravenous his curiosity. In fact, as if in apology, he abruptly turns his back to the man and continues to dance, scarcely skipping more than a beat or two, and deadpans:] I am glad to be your first.
no subject
An omnic monk? [Hanzo nearly lets out an incredulous laugh, a defense mechanism to distance himself from the situation and how he truly feels. But before he can make a sound Zenyatta has turned away from him. The absence of warmth is causes is noticeable and he feels upset at himself for craving more of it.]
Wait. Tell me your name before you go.
no subject
"Omnic"? [Good intentions be damned. Zenyatta stares at him outright for a moment, letting the word and all its implications tick over for several seconds before he laughs outright, all sunlight and warmth.
He has met several locals already, still more newcomers like himself. And every one of them has called him a "robot".
He takes his hands once more, thumbs sweeping across the center of the man's palms.]
My name is Zenyatta. And it appears we are from the same world. Tell me, my friend, have you heard of the Shambali?
no subject
[Hanzo questions. It isn't as though it's something that the other could deny. It was as clear as day. Of course it hadn't occurred to him that this word was specific to someone from their timeline. Not immediately, at least. Perhaps because he had seen Zenyatta and knew that they were from the same place right away, he assumed that maybe the same could have been done simply from looking at him. Clearly that isn't the case. Hanzo doesn't look so different in comparison to many of the other humans he's come across.]
Zenyatta? Pleased to meet you. My name is Hanzo.
[There's the slightest bow of his head in respect before he responds.]
Yes. [He nearly points out that he recalls a news story in which a prominent member of the Shambali was killed by terrorists, but decides it is an inappropriate thing to bring up following an introduction. At least in that manner.] Mondatta was said to have done many great things.
no subject
He is slow to react to Hanzo's comment, even as the name Mondatta catches in him like a thorn.]
... ah. Yes. He- was a remarkable individual. [Remarkable does not begin to cover it. But his attention is being steadily pulled back, and back...]
You are Hanzo Shimada. [Matter-of-factly stated. He has no doubts now.] Your brother is one of my students.
no subject
No...
[Surely it couldn't be? What were the chances that an omnic he crosses paths with here simply by chance turns out to know his brother. Not just know him, but knows enough to identify him by name. Does Genji speak of him? Is it with hatred and disdain? He can't imagine anything else.
If that is the case, then the pleasantries he's exchanged with Zenyatta so far are surely to come to an end. He's not sure what to do, but he finds himself taking a step back, then another. He's not so much backing away from the omnic as he is the memory of the things he's done--the things he's ashamed of.]
no subject
The breath's width of space between them widens in an instant.]
Hanzo...
[Part of him would like to reach out to him, try to take his hands and prevent him from running, but to touch him might break the fragile threads of trust they have woven between him; his hands hover in the air between them, faltering.]
Wait. You do not have to leave.
fin
Hanzo shakes his head, turns around, and does not stop walking.]