[ whenever Zenyatta does as the hip kids do, D.Va takes a screenshot. There is a folder of these instances on her phone entitled here come dat zen. This just went in there. ]
I was very impressed! Can you repeat them while you are in your MEKA? I realise that your movement is somewhat limited, but I must admit, I am curious.
a phrase that's been repeated to her over and over again, just like how the world needs order for the greater good. she isn't naive to why it's an excellent plan that benefits her in this day and age. am omnic is the lowest of the low, human society tells the word. they were born to serve flesh and blood. they're built. they have no soul. marrying one makes it perfect for her, everyone satya knows convinces her so.
she doesn't think similar to the world's thoughts about the omnics at all.
the ceremony is beautiful. the bride wears red, gold, and blue while covered in precious jewelry. she dances with the groom who she finally gets to know after a year long wait. the only thing she knows of him before their wedding day is his name, "tekhartha zenyatta." she learns about how he lives his life and his brother long dead. she learns that he was part of the shambali. later on when he asks her some questions, she answers them with no problem whatsoever.
however, the first thing that comes to her after they meet is how kind he is. it is... amiable. ]
I have been told that you enjoy tea. How, exactly?
[ it's their first night together, and she's still learning everything about her new husband like a student trying to read a heavy book. satya direly needs a cup of chamomile, already without the numerous pendants, necklaces, and bracelets on her person. ]
[Zenyatta had not supposed that marriage would ever be in his stars- and yet his were the fingers to fasten, with infinite care, the mangala sutra about the bride's neck, and his the hands to take hers during the ceremony.
Destiny, it seemed, had its own plans.
The Vaswani family were a formidable force. When they wanted something they found a way to claim it, and what they had wanted was an omnic husband for their daughter. Not just any omnic, either- they would not invite a mere slave into their clan on any account- but one with an impeccable reputation which could, in turn, enhance their daughter's. A renowned spiritual guru did quite nicely, regardless of their true opinion on his politics.
Zenyatta, for his part, supposes he could have rejected the proposition. Resisted, claimed sanctuary in the monastery. But he could not be so cowardly, so easily chased into hiding. Besides, he was not the only one with a reputation. By all accounts Satya Vaswani was a striking individual in her own right, as brilliant but distant as any star in the sky. Fate had brought them together, and he was determined to find out why.
The wedding itself had not been the ideal place to meet Satya; it was beautiful but noisy and impossibly busy, the generous space of the hall filled to bursting with family and friends and business partners. Even now they carried the scent of perfume and flowers back into their chamber, the remains of an evening from which Zenyatta had felt eerily detached. No one, after all, had been there on his account. The only omnics present had borne drinks and food on gleaming platters.
In here, though, Satya's eyes focus on his faceplate, as though she saw eyes rather than the docile mechanisms her family found there.]
Do you mean with milk or sugar? [There is a hint of amusement in his voice; strange to think that this should be their first conversation as a married couple. He shakes his head.] I enjoy the warmth and the smell of it.
[It's his turn to look her over. She looks younger without the jewellery and makeup, and more severe, too. It suits her better, he decides.]
[A hero, they said. Then: a human. The terms seemed, to so many of the omnics the Shambali had sheltered in their monastery, mutually exclusive. Traumas ran deep; even among the monks themselves there remained those who struggled with human contact.
Zenyatta was not one of them.
Supposedly, they had found him unconscious and bleeding in the snow, shot through with enough bullets to down an ox, much less a man. But then, that was not all there was to him, was there? Zenyatta had not seen his face but he'd spoken to Mondatta, and there had been no mistaking his identity- and even if there had been room for ambiguity, they'd all heard rumours about supposed Overwatch operations across the Himalayas.
The man would, it was decided, be safe in the monastery until contact with Overwatch could be safely established, or his superhuman constitution repaired itself sufficiently. And no, Zenyatta, Mondatta had added, your services will not be required. Please do not bother him.
Which had seemed a little rude, frankly. But then, he is sneaking into their patient's room, so perhaps it was not entirely uncalled for.
Zenyatta's sandals make little more than the softest scuffing sounds as they approach the infirmary, lost beneath the ring of the bell calling the monks to their afternoon duties. In theory, he should be sweeping the temple steps. In practise, he has decided that he will sweep the stairs leading up here on the way down.
Even with a relatively clear conscience, however, there's still something distinctly uncertain about the way he creeps to the man's bedside and pulls back the curtain- though even his self-control is bested when he finally sees his face for himself.]
He's on edge--wounded, separated from his team, the weather in the mountains too thick to get a signal through. He supposes he should consider himself lucky for the third-party rescue, but for some reason being in a monastery full of religious omnics has him on edge. Jack tells himself that he's not in danger, but his crisis-related anxieties are hard to shake.
Not that he's in much shape to fight back, or leave. His wounds make him more-or-less at the mercy of the Shambali, but to their credit, they're hospitable. They treat him well, set him up in their infirmary, and make it clear that they will contact Overwatch as soon as circumstances allow. In the meantime, all he has to do is heal. Jack is curious about their leader, but Mondatta insists there will be plenty of time for talk and diplomacy once Jack is not nursing injuries.
The good news is that Jack heals himself, which is what he's busy doing when he hears movement on the other side of his curtain. He tenses up, an automatic response to the feeling of a fight coming on.
Then, one of the Shambali pulls back the curtain and exclaims, and Jack can't help but shout in surprise. He attempts to raise his arms in a defensive maneuver, but immediately regrets it as pain shoots through him again. Just...just give him a minute.]
[If he had ever doubted Commander Jack Morisson's reflexes before this very moment, he would be thoroughly impressed: that was quite the swift response. As it is however Zenyatta nearly drops the curtain, opting instead to duck behind it.]
Oh!
[... this is really quite ridiculous, isn't it? As soon as it becomes apparent which of the two of them is the most surprised- or, more to the point, the one suffering for it- he sidles around to the man's bedside again, concerned.]
Hush, my friend. You are safe. [Strictly speaking, Mondatta has told him to keep his mala to himself while they unravel their true potential... but with someone quite visibly in pain before him, he just can't help himself.] Here. This may help.
[It takes more concentration than usual now that he has an audience, but on the second try a gentle flick of the wrist summons forth a wobbly ball of light. Another gesture sends it floating, slowly but surely, to Morrison's side, where it hovers like a surly child.]
[Jack holds up a hand, his face caught in an obvious wince, like he’s trying to will away the sharp pain in an effort to end this interaction as quickly as possible. The last thing he wants is to cause a problem for his hosts, but he has to admit he hadn’t really expected to be accosted by one of the monks, sneaking around at night. Maybe he’d just been trying to see if their patient really was Jack Morrison, in which case he hopes the answer is sufficient.
He doesn’t recognize the tech that the omnic produces, but maybe it isn’t tech at all. Jack isn’t sure what to call the little ball of light that floats towards him, but his first instinct is to try and swat it away.]
I heal on my own, you don’t have to worry about it.
[What’s unsaid, of course, is something Jack is very curious about—what’s this omnic doing, sneaking up on him in the middle of the night?]
[Fortunately for Jack and his obvious discomfort, although his hand only scythes uselessly through the little ball of light Zenyatta's rapidly-lapsing concentration finishes it off, and it flickers out of existence like a candle snuffed out by a strong breeze.]
... hm.
[Zenyatta makes a small sound of displeasure- what is he doing wrong?- before he remembers the man in front of him. And really, how could he ever have forgotten? At Jack's objection his jieba light up, hands clapping together in obvious delight.]
Then you do have an accelerated healing factor? How remarkable! [It's not the most tactful of responses, admittedly, but how could anyone fail to be impressed? Morrison is a living legend, after all.] I thought perhaps the pain was keeping you up. It is part of why I came.
[He won't pretend that he's not also here to stare at Commander Morrison. Shame is such an unhelpful emotion in these situations.]
[Jack still doesn't know who this Omnic is or what he's doing here or why he seems to be sneaking around, or who might come in here next. Still, he doesn't want to be rude, even if he in pain, and it's not like he's unaccustomed to people asking him questions about his enhancements.
Mostly whether or not they're real. That seems to be where this is going. Jack swallows a little thickly, as if trying to will his wounds to heal faster, and nods.]
Yeah. I'll be okay in a day or two.
[Of course, he's not really worried about his injuries--he just wants to be able to get a message out to Overwatch, at least so that they know he's safe.]
Can I, uh...do you need something?
[That is, what's the other part of why this monk is here? It's true the Shambali are not exactly known for their painkillers. Is he otherwise just here to gawk?]
[If time were not enough for the initial rush to wear off, Commander Morrison's reaction is nothing if not mollifying. As altruistic as he'd like to pretend he is being, Zenyatta knows that his motives are less than perfect; the last thing the man needs is an audience to his distress.
Enthusiasm curbed, his lights fade a little and his tone settles into something calmer (and just a little embarrassed).]
No, of course not. I apologise- I let my curiosity get the better of me. [Just as Mondatta said he would. The hand at his side twists the fabric of his robe.] So very little happens in these mountains, and I have always wondered about Overwatch...
[He tails off. The last thing he wants is to seem as if he is making excuses for himself.]
... if there is anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable, please do not hesitate to ask. Shall I leave you to rest?
[Something about the way an Omnic manages to look so crestfallen, even without facial features, surprises Jack a little bit. It's intriguing, to say the least, the way this whole monastery is intriguing. It gives him hope, in a strange way, that there are a subset of Omnics who seem to just want to live--create a space for themselves.
Still, he imagines it might be isolating, especially in a place as remote as this. Perhaps he can forgive the curiosity, in such circumstances.]
Don't worry about it.
[He makes an attempt to wave it off, offering a tight smile. Jack isn't a very good sleeper anyway, and he doubts he'll get back to it now. Might as well learn a little bit about the people (Omnics) who have made a home here.]
What's your name?
[They might as well formally introduce themselves, he thinks.]
[Zenyatta commits that smile to memory; the look of it does not entirely match the videos and photographs he's seen, but there is still a glimmer of that charisma around the crease of his eyes, the quirk of his lip. Frankly it is a miracle that Morrison has a one of any kind to offer, given that he has been rudely awoken in the middle of the night.
He's not sure if the question is an invitation to join him, much less for how long, but it's a start.]
I am Zenyatta. [Even after so many months he still sounds like a proud parent whenever he shares his name, quite literally glowing with it; simply speaking it is an affirmation, I am, I am, I am. A mantra.
Omnics cannot be related. But he likes, too, the thought that it connects him to Mondatta in some private and esoteric way.
Zenyatta bows at the waist, then holds out a hand in a less traditional greeting.] I suppose you could say that I am Mondatta's junior here.
[That much is well-practiced, though given the circumstances, it doesn't come with impeccable posture or a firm handshake. He'll excuse himself for now. The Omnics here have seen him injured, so there's little point in keeping up pretense. Besides, he's pretty sure he could sneeze and Zenyatta would react with awe.
Or, perhaps he's just naturally excitable. Maybe that's the reason Mondatta didn't introduce them, if this Omnic is his junior. Didn't want to add any unnecessary stress, when Jack was already injured.]
[Practised or not, Zenyatta is no fool. He vocalises another small, wry hum, head tipping ever so slightly to one side in what he hopes implies at least a degree of humility.]
Is it? I am not sure if many would think it was nice to be ambushed by a stranger.
[This was, in hindsight, not his brightest idea. He's not sure how to express that without apologising, because that would suggest that he is sorry- and if he is truly being honest with himself he is not sorry at all to have met Morrison.
Which is problematic in its own way, of course, but that is another thing on which he will reflect later.]
... hospitable or not, I am sure you will be leaving as soon as you can. Your team must be worried about you.
[So he's just taking things in stride, even if it's not objectively 'nice' to be ambushed in the middle of the night by a stranger. A strange robot, even, given his history and related traumas.
Jack tries to keep a brave face when Zenyatta mentions his team.]
The sooner I can get a message out, the better. [Ideally by morning, so they don't waste time and resources sending out search parties for him. Even if he has to stay here longer than that, being able to make contact will be a huge relief for him--that much is evident on his face.] Then we can figure out getting a transport up here.
[That is fair. Even if he did not already have a blizzard with which to contend, Zenyatta does not doubt for a single moment that the enemies that left him for dead in the first place are still prowling out there in the darkness. Waiting.
He tries to focus, even if it feels all of a sudden as if there are eyes in every corner of the room.]
Of course. Mondatta is having someone work on our communications as we speak.
[In truth it is more of a challenge than Zenyatta would have expected, although that, he supposes, does make some sense; the monastery was established with the goal of being as isolated as possible for the sake of their own safety. Leaving had never been the issue.
Zenyatta pauses.]
I imagine you cannot tell me the specifics of what you were doing out in the Himalayas to begin with, but I must ask... is our order under threat?
[The last thing he wants is for Overwatch to send some kind of search and rescue party into weather like this, so letting them know he's alive and safe is paramount, even if he can't leave right away. He doesn't think he'll be able to relax until then, even if there's nothing to be done about it right this second. Jack isn't someone who likes to be idle.
Zenyatta is right in that Jack isn't going to divulge the specifics of Overwatch's mission, but he doesn't think there's any point in alarming the monastery.]
No, I doubt anyone would make it all the way up here. You've set yourselves up pretty nicely.
[He has to hand it to them in that regard, at least.]
[I doubt, he says, and though Zenyatta knows that should be reassurance enough he also knows that it is not; as much as he would like to believe that he has grown from the omnic he once was, a part of him rankles still at the thought of what might happen. Old processes thrum within him, protocols he cannot (will not, Mondatta has chided) delete.]
This place is a sanctuary. If they do come here, I will be waiting for them.
[His tone has darkened by just a shade, a cloud drifting across a shaft of moonlight... and passing by. He pauses, then shakes his head.]
... I believe I have kept you awake for long enough. Please, do not worry- I am sure they will have established a communication link by morning. [He means it, and he hopes it shows in his voice; vocalising sincerity is new to him, relative to a human, and he wants to put Jack's mind at ease.] Good night, Commander Morrison.
[Jack knows that probably invites more questions than it answers, but it’s not like he’s going to start telling a random Omnic about Overwatch’s operations up in the Himalayas. In fact, he finds Zenyatta’s response more surprising, and something about it sets him on edge—something left over from the Crisis. Zenyatta’s obviously not a combat model, but there’s little Jack understands about the Shambali. Perhaps they would be fully capable of fighting back if the occasion calls for it.
But it seems like the conversation has reached its natural end, so any questions will have to wait. Jack nods, offers another thank you for the hospitality, and is left alone in the dark.
The good news is that by morning, Mondatta shows up in the medbay and announces that they’re able to get a signal through. Jack leaps at the chance to contact Overwatch, let them know he’s alive. The weather still prevents a transport from getting up to him, but that doesn’t matter once he’s made contact. Even if the signal fails again, there’s relief in knowing that they won’t be wasting resources searching for his body.
By morning, Jack’s healing factor has kicked into full gear, meaning he’s well enough to get out of bed and walk around the monastery. He tries to keep to himself, but that’s sort of impossible when he’s the only human here. Still, he tries to be gracious, entertaining questions when asked and doing his very best to be an upstanding ambassador of humans. He doesn’t need to give Omnics any more reason to be wary of him.
It’s midday, and he’s in one of the courtyards when he sees the Omnic from the night before. Their conversation had intrigued him, of course, so he offers a wave of greeting from his spot on one of the benches, a small half-smile indicating he bears no ill will from last night’s intrusion.]
[The morning sun rises without ever having been seen from behind its thick shroud of snow and rain, but with it comes good news: contact with Overwatch has been established. An evacuation wll be attempted as soon as possible, weather permitting. Yet while he knows that it is selfish of him, Zenyatta has to admit that it does not pain him to know that the weather will permit nothing whatsoever for at least another day.
Commander Morrison's presence is a twist of fate for which he owes the whims of the Iris a great many thanks. Even if he were not a hero he is living, breathing, speaking proof of the world that lies beyond the Himalayas. There is so much he has to ask, so much to learn...!
This time, Zenyatta gives the man space- not least of all because Mondatta, in an unfortunate display of clairvoyance, finds one hundred and one tasks to keep him busy for the morning. When they meet it is entirely a coincidence. Zenyatta is sweeping snow from one of the little enclosed courtyards that litters the temple complex when he spots Morrison.
Putting aside for one moment the man's good manners, that smile is a good sign. Genuine, Zenyatta realises. It bears only the ghost of a resemblance to the smiles he's seen on television screens.]
Is weather resistance another of your talents, Commander Morrison? You must be cold.
[He may have made contact with Overwatch, but now he's full of anxiety about all the things he should be doing, that he can't do because he's stuck here for the foreseeable future. He is not necessarily a patient man, and he's not sure how good he is at hiding his impatience, but he's doing his very best, given the circumstances.
Thinking of this as being 'stuck' is sort of rude, he thinks. Surely Ana will be able to hold down the fort while he's gone, but Jack can't help his wandering thoughts. He needs a distraction.]
Something like that.
[He's not about to reveal all his secrets, but yes--his enhancements help him acclimatize much more easily, leaving him without any altitude sickness and seemingly unaffected by the cold. If he was at all injured the day before, it's hard to tell right now. Another advantage. He shakes his head to let Zenyatta know he's not uncomfortable.]
[As soon as the word tour leaves Jack's lips Zenyatta is perking up in his own particular way: chin lifting, jieba glowing just a little more brightly.]
What an excellent idea! I would be honoured to be your guide.
[After all, the man was, at best, drifting in and out of consciousness when he was led into the monastery. Beyond the airy shrines and open squares the place is deceptively complex, full of curious little corners and narrow old corridors signed only in omnicode- and, impressive though Jack is, he doubts he has quite mastered that particular language.
He culls all processes focused on his daily duties, props his broom absently up against a pillar, and promptly forgets all about it.]
I am sure Mondatta has made you aware of the kitchen and the infirmary, but have you seen the inner sanctums?
[Jack had a feeling this would be amenable, and though he's not sure what he's getting himself into, given their exchange last night, but it'll be a good distraction if nothing else. He's spent a long time now putting up a front, and he has no doubt he'll be able to be perfectly cordial, even if it's just masking his own anxieties.
It's true he doesn't remember much about his arrival. He hadn't been very coherent until he was in their infirmary, so this will be a good way to get his bearings.]
No, not yet.
[He's not about to go wandering without permission. This might be an extraordinary circumstance, but Jack is still very good at following rules.]
[Even if he had, Zenyatta doubts he would have been stopped by anyone out of anything but concern for his health. Nowhere is off-limits to Jack; had the Shambali secrets to keep, after all, it would only have given unsympathetic outsiders further cause to mistrust them.]
Wonderful! Then please, follow me.
[And off he goes, a swirl of snow-white robes and silvery limbs that nearly knock his abandoned broom over, only to pause beneath a cracked archway. There's a distinctly playful tilt to his head as he glances back that Zenyatta cannot quite bring himself to straighten.]
I know you have healed a great deal already, but if you find yourself tiring, please let me know. There will be a few stairs.
[There certainly are. Stairs up, stairs down, stairs half-crumbling away into nothing beside cavernous pits that have been built around rather than filled. They may not pose much of a challenge to the omnics here, but it is difficult to imagine that the human monks who once occupied this place were anything but fabulously fit.
Their journey is illuminated by soft candlelight and the eerie blue of omnicode that seems to run through the very stone of the walls, brightening here and there as Zenyatta runs his hand across them.]
This place was in ruins when we arrived. We built upon it as our needs changed, and as a result I am afraid it is somewhat... idiosyncratic. But we began here, in the heart of it all.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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idc what anyone else thinks, lucio is the one and only dancing queen
haters gonna hate
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He truly is a talented engineer- I did not realise that paper umbrellas, a straw and ice cubes could be so deadly.
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[ flashbacks of torb yelling for the last time, I'm Swedish!! into the karaoke mic last night... ]
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lucio's remixes are the best 👌✔️💯
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[Look he really does love the way she and Lucio speak it's really charming he's only teasing her a little bit]
Much like your performance.
[...]
What were you singing?
i love this??
a korean pop classic
it's called gee by girls generation
gg gg baby baby~
how are they so cute
he will be a cool kid too one day]I see! The song of YOUR people. ;) It was a masterful performance.
Is that why you say "GG" at the end of missions?
idk but it's gr8 also: matching peace sign icons
and nope gg was a thing way before gee! but it's w/e
ayyyy can u believe there is one year between them
omfg I didn't know that HILARIOUS
I've been waiting for someone to ask omg
It's my time to shine!!
[ this is the person you've chosen to safeguard the country, Korea. This is where your taxpayer money is going. ]
i mean omnics don't age like humans etc etc but COME ON
hana you're so charming]
Excellent! I look forward to your performance! Perhaps you can teach me some of your "moves" while you are at it.
WE'RE DOIN IT MAYBE
[ "This will be good for you, Satya."
a phrase that's been repeated to her over and over again, just like how the world needs order for the greater good. she isn't naive to why it's an excellent plan that benefits her in this day and age. am omnic is the lowest of the low, human society tells the word. they were born to serve flesh and blood. they're built. they have no soul. marrying one makes it perfect for her, everyone satya knows convinces her so.
she doesn't think similar to the world's thoughts about the omnics at all.
the ceremony is beautiful. the bride wears red, gold, and blue while covered in precious jewelry. she dances with the groom who she finally gets to know after a year long wait. the only thing she knows of him before their wedding day is his name, "tekhartha zenyatta." she learns about how he lives his life and his brother long dead. she learns that he was part of the shambali. later on when he asks her some questions, she answers them with no problem whatsoever.
however, the first thing that comes to her after they meet is how kind he is. it is... amiable. ]
I have been told that you enjoy tea. How, exactly?
[ it's their first night together, and she's still learning everything about her new husband like a student trying to read a heavy book. satya direly needs a cup of chamomile, already without the numerous pendants, necklaces, and bracelets on her person. ]
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Destiny, it seemed, had its own plans.
The Vaswani family were a formidable force. When they wanted something they found a way to claim it, and what they had wanted was an omnic husband for their daughter. Not just any omnic, either- they would not invite a mere slave into their clan on any account- but one with an impeccable reputation which could, in turn, enhance their daughter's. A renowned spiritual guru did quite nicely, regardless of their true opinion on his politics.
Zenyatta, for his part, supposes he could have rejected the proposition. Resisted, claimed sanctuary in the monastery. But he could not be so cowardly, so easily chased into hiding. Besides, he was not the only one with a reputation. By all accounts Satya Vaswani was a striking individual in her own right, as brilliant but distant as any star in the sky. Fate had brought them together, and he was determined to find out why.
The wedding itself had not been the ideal place to meet Satya; it was beautiful but noisy and impossibly busy, the generous space of the hall filled to bursting with family and friends and business partners. Even now they carried the scent of perfume and flowers back into their chamber, the remains of an evening from which Zenyatta had felt eerily detached. No one, after all, had been there on his account. The only omnics present had borne drinks and food on gleaming platters.
In here, though, Satya's eyes focus on his faceplate, as though she saw eyes rather than the docile mechanisms her family found there.]
Do you mean with milk or sugar? [There is a hint of amusement in his voice; strange to think that this should be their first conversation as a married couple. He shakes his head.] I enjoy the warmth and the smell of it.
[It's his turn to look her over. She looks younger without the jewellery and makeup, and more severe, too. It suits her better, he decides.]
closed
Zenyatta was not one of them.
Supposedly, they had found him unconscious and bleeding in the snow, shot through with enough bullets to down an ox, much less a man. But then, that was not all there was to him, was there? Zenyatta had not seen his face but he'd spoken to Mondatta, and there had been no mistaking his identity- and even if there had been room for ambiguity, they'd all heard rumours about supposed Overwatch operations across the Himalayas.
The man would, it was decided, be safe in the monastery until contact with Overwatch could be safely established, or his superhuman constitution repaired itself sufficiently. And no, Zenyatta, Mondatta had added, your services will not be required. Please do not bother him.
Which had seemed a little rude, frankly. But then, he is sneaking into their patient's room, so perhaps it was not entirely uncalled for.
Zenyatta's sandals make little more than the softest scuffing sounds as they approach the infirmary, lost beneath the ring of the bell calling the monks to their afternoon duties. In theory, he should be sweeping the temple steps. In practise, he has decided that he will sweep the stairs leading up here on the way down.
Even with a relatively clear conscience, however, there's still something distinctly uncertain about the way he creeps to the man's bedside and pulls back the curtain- though even his self-control is bested when he finally sees his face for himself.]
Jack Morrison. By the Iris...!
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He's on edge--wounded, separated from his team, the weather in the mountains too thick to get a signal through. He supposes he should consider himself lucky for the third-party rescue, but for some reason being in a monastery full of religious omnics has him on edge. Jack tells himself that he's not in danger, but his crisis-related anxieties are hard to shake.
Not that he's in much shape to fight back, or leave. His wounds make him more-or-less at the mercy of the Shambali, but to their credit, they're hospitable. They treat him well, set him up in their infirmary, and make it clear that they will contact Overwatch as soon as circumstances allow. In the meantime, all he has to do is heal. Jack is curious about their leader, but Mondatta insists there will be plenty of time for talk and diplomacy once Jack is not nursing injuries.
The good news is that Jack heals himself, which is what he's busy doing when he hears movement on the other side of his curtain. He tenses up, an automatic response to the feeling of a fight coming on.
Then, one of the Shambali pulls back the curtain and exclaims, and Jack can't help but shout in surprise. He attempts to raise his arms in a defensive maneuver, but immediately regrets it as pain shoots through him again. Just...just give him a minute.]
Agh--that was a mistake.
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Oh!
[... this is really quite ridiculous, isn't it? As soon as it becomes apparent which of the two of them is the most surprised- or, more to the point, the one suffering for it- he sidles around to the man's bedside again, concerned.]
Hush, my friend. You are safe. [Strictly speaking, Mondatta has told him to keep his mala to himself while they unravel their true potential... but with someone quite visibly in pain before him, he just can't help himself.] Here. This may help.
[It takes more concentration than usual now that he has an audience, but on the second try a gentle flick of the wrist summons forth a wobbly ball of light. Another gesture sends it floating, slowly but surely, to Morrison's side, where it hovers like a surly child.]
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[Jack holds up a hand, his face caught in an obvious wince, like he’s trying to will away the sharp pain in an effort to end this interaction as quickly as possible. The last thing he wants is to cause a problem for his hosts, but he has to admit he hadn’t really expected to be accosted by one of the monks, sneaking around at night. Maybe he’d just been trying to see if their patient really was Jack Morrison, in which case he hopes the answer is sufficient.
He doesn’t recognize the tech that the omnic produces, but maybe it isn’t tech at all. Jack isn’t sure what to call the little ball of light that floats towards him, but his first instinct is to try and swat it away.]
I heal on my own, you don’t have to worry about it.
[What’s unsaid, of course, is something Jack is very curious about—what’s this omnic doing, sneaking up on him in the middle of the night?]
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... hm.
[Zenyatta makes a small sound of displeasure- what is he doing wrong?- before he remembers the man in front of him. And really, how could he ever have forgotten? At Jack's objection his jieba light up, hands clapping together in obvious delight.]
Then you do have an accelerated healing factor? How remarkable! [It's not the most tactful of responses, admittedly, but how could anyone fail to be impressed? Morrison is a living legend, after all.] I thought perhaps the pain was keeping you up. It is part of why I came.
[He won't pretend that he's not also here to stare at Commander Morrison. Shame is such an unhelpful emotion in these situations.]
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Mostly whether or not they're real. That seems to be where this is going. Jack swallows a little thickly, as if trying to will his wounds to heal faster, and nods.]
Yeah. I'll be okay in a day or two.
[Of course, he's not really worried about his injuries--he just wants to be able to get a message out to Overwatch, at least so that they know he's safe.]
Can I, uh...do you need something?
[That is, what's the other part of why this monk is here? It's true the Shambali are not exactly known for their painkillers. Is he otherwise just here to gawk?]
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Enthusiasm curbed, his lights fade a little and his tone settles into something calmer (and just a little embarrassed).]
No, of course not. I apologise- I let my curiosity get the better of me. [Just as Mondatta said he would. The hand at his side twists the fabric of his robe.] So very little happens in these mountains, and I have always wondered about Overwatch...
[He tails off. The last thing he wants is to seem as if he is making excuses for himself.]
... if there is anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable, please do not hesitate to ask. Shall I leave you to rest?
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Still, he imagines it might be isolating, especially in a place as remote as this. Perhaps he can forgive the curiosity, in such circumstances.]
Don't worry about it.
[He makes an attempt to wave it off, offering a tight smile. Jack isn't a very good sleeper anyway, and he doubts he'll get back to it now. Might as well learn a little bit about the people (Omnics) who have made a home here.]
What's your name?
[They might as well formally introduce themselves, he thinks.]
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He's not sure if the question is an invitation to join him, much less for how long, but it's a start.]
I am Zenyatta. [Even after so many months he still sounds like a proud parent whenever he shares his name, quite literally glowing with it; simply speaking it is an affirmation, I am, I am, I am. A mantra.
Omnics cannot be related. But he likes, too, the thought that it connects him to Mondatta in some private and esoteric way.
Zenyatta bows at the waist, then holds out a hand in a less traditional greeting.] I suppose you could say that I am Mondatta's junior here.
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[That much is well-practiced, though given the circumstances, it doesn't come with impeccable posture or a firm handshake. He'll excuse himself for now. The Omnics here have seen him injured, so there's little point in keeping up pretense. Besides, he's pretty sure he could sneeze and Zenyatta would react with awe.
Or, perhaps he's just naturally excitable. Maybe that's the reason Mondatta didn't introduce them, if this Omnic is his junior. Didn't want to add any unnecessary stress, when Jack was already injured.]
He's been very hospitable.
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Is it? I am not sure if many would think it was nice to be ambushed by a stranger.
[This was, in hindsight, not his brightest idea. He's not sure how to express that without apologising, because that would suggest that he is sorry- and if he is truly being honest with himself he is not sorry at all to have met Morrison.
Which is problematic in its own way, of course, but that is another thing on which he will reflect later.]
... hospitable or not, I am sure you will be leaving as soon as you can. Your team must be worried about you.
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[So he's just taking things in stride, even if it's not objectively 'nice' to be ambushed in the middle of the night by a stranger. A strange robot, even, given his history and related traumas.
Jack tries to keep a brave face when Zenyatta mentions his team.]
The sooner I can get a message out, the better. [Ideally by morning, so they don't waste time and resources sending out search parties for him. Even if he has to stay here longer than that, being able to make contact will be a huge relief for him--that much is evident on his face.] Then we can figure out getting a transport up here.
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He tries to focus, even if it feels all of a sudden as if there are eyes in every corner of the room.]
Of course. Mondatta is having someone work on our communications as we speak.
[In truth it is more of a challenge than Zenyatta would have expected, although that, he supposes, does make some sense; the monastery was established with the goal of being as isolated as possible for the sake of their own safety. Leaving had never been the issue.
Zenyatta pauses.]
I imagine you cannot tell me the specifics of what you were doing out in the Himalayas to begin with, but I must ask... is our order under threat?
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[The last thing he wants is for Overwatch to send some kind of search and rescue party into weather like this, so letting them know he's alive and safe is paramount, even if he can't leave right away. He doesn't think he'll be able to relax until then, even if there's nothing to be done about it right this second. Jack isn't someone who likes to be idle.
Zenyatta is right in that Jack isn't going to divulge the specifics of Overwatch's mission, but he doesn't think there's any point in alarming the monastery.]
No, I doubt anyone would make it all the way up here. You've set yourselves up pretty nicely.
[He has to hand it to them in that regard, at least.]
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This place is a sanctuary. If they do come here, I will be waiting for them.
[His tone has darkened by just a shade, a cloud drifting across a shaft of moonlight... and passing by. He pauses, then shakes his head.]
... I believe I have kept you awake for long enough. Please, do not worry- I am sure they will have established a communication link by morning. [He means it, and he hopes it shows in his voice; vocalising sincerity is new to him, relative to a human, and he wants to put Jack's mind at ease.] Good night, Commander Morrison.
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But it seems like the conversation has reached its natural end, so any questions will have to wait. Jack nods, offers another thank you for the hospitality, and is left alone in the dark.
The good news is that by morning, Mondatta shows up in the medbay and announces that they’re able to get a signal through. Jack leaps at the chance to contact Overwatch, let them know he’s alive. The weather still prevents a transport from getting up to him, but that doesn’t matter once he’s made contact. Even if the signal fails again, there’s relief in knowing that they won’t be wasting resources searching for his body.
By morning, Jack’s healing factor has kicked into full gear, meaning he’s well enough to get out of bed and walk around the monastery. He tries to keep to himself, but that’s sort of impossible when he’s the only human here. Still, he tries to be gracious, entertaining questions when asked and doing his very best to be an upstanding ambassador of humans. He doesn’t need to give Omnics any more reason to be wary of him.
It’s midday, and he’s in one of the courtyards when he sees the Omnic from the night before. Their conversation had intrigued him, of course, so he offers a wave of greeting from his spot on one of the benches, a small half-smile indicating he bears no ill will from last night’s intrusion.]
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Commander Morrison's presence is a twist of fate for which he owes the whims of the Iris a great many thanks. Even if he were not a hero he is living, breathing, speaking proof of the world that lies beyond the Himalayas. There is so much he has to ask, so much to learn...!
This time, Zenyatta gives the man space- not least of all because Mondatta, in an unfortunate display of clairvoyance, finds one hundred and one tasks to keep him busy for the morning. When they meet it is entirely a coincidence. Zenyatta is sweeping snow from one of the little enclosed courtyards that litters the temple complex when he spots Morrison.
Putting aside for one moment the man's good manners, that smile is a good sign. Genuine, Zenyatta realises. It bears only the ghost of a resemblance to the smiles he's seen on television screens.]
Is weather resistance another of your talents, Commander Morrison? You must be cold.
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Thinking of this as being 'stuck' is sort of rude, he thinks. Surely Ana will be able to hold down the fort while he's gone, but Jack can't help his wandering thoughts. He needs a distraction.]
Something like that.
[He's not about to reveal all his secrets, but yes--his enhancements help him acclimatize much more easily, leaving him without any altitude sickness and seemingly unaffected by the cold. If he was at all injured the day before, it's hard to tell right now. Another advantage. He shakes his head to let Zenyatta know he's not uncomfortable.]
I think I'm up for a tour, actually.
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What an excellent idea! I would be honoured to be your guide.
[After all, the man was, at best, drifting in and out of consciousness when he was led into the monastery. Beyond the airy shrines and open squares the place is deceptively complex, full of curious little corners and narrow old corridors signed only in omnicode- and, impressive though Jack is, he doubts he has quite mastered that particular language.
He culls all processes focused on his daily duties, props his broom absently up against a pillar, and promptly forgets all about it.]
I am sure Mondatta has made you aware of the kitchen and the infirmary, but have you seen the inner sanctums?
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It's true he doesn't remember much about his arrival. He hadn't been very coherent until he was in their infirmary, so this will be a good way to get his bearings.]
No, not yet.
[He's not about to go wandering without permission. This might be an extraordinary circumstance, but Jack is still very good at following rules.]
Didn't have much time last night.
finally......... crawls home...........
Wonderful! Then please, follow me.
[And off he goes, a swirl of snow-white robes and silvery limbs that nearly knock his abandoned broom over, only to pause beneath a cracked archway. There's a distinctly playful tilt to his head as he glances back that Zenyatta cannot quite bring himself to straighten.]
I know you have healed a great deal already, but if you find yourself tiring, please let me know. There will be a few stairs.
[There certainly are. Stairs up, stairs down, stairs half-crumbling away into nothing beside cavernous pits that have been built around rather than filled. They may not pose much of a challenge to the omnics here, but it is difficult to imagine that the human monks who once occupied this place were anything but fabulously fit.
Their journey is illuminated by soft candlelight and the eerie blue of omnicode that seems to run through the very stone of the walls, brightening here and there as Zenyatta runs his hand across them.]
This place was in ruins when we arrived. We built upon it as our needs changed, and as a result I am afraid it is somewhat... idiosyncratic. But we began here, in the heart of it all.