Chapter Text
-- lynxSeventeen [LS] began trolling widowMaker [WM]--
LS: W1dowmaker. My deares7 ha7efr1end.
WM: Whatever it is, no.
LS: 1s 17 so cer7a1n 1 am abou7 7o ask you for some7h1ng? Surely 7here have been many a 71me where 1 have con7ac7ed you over Skorpe purely because 1 have some7h1ng s7uck 1n my craw and you are a rel1able source of comm1serable b17ch1ng.
WM: That may be, but I know that tone.
LS: Wha7 7one? 1’m 7yp1ng.
WM: I can see it in between the lines of simplified leetspeak & self aggr&izing aquamarine.
LS: 1 7ake offense. Surely 1f 1 was 7ruly so self aggrand1z1ng 1 would speak en71rely 1n anc1en7 lee7speak, and no7 7he s1mpl1f1ed forma7 of our modern day.
WM: Lynx my detested, normally I would love nothing better than to continue our jovial banter well into the afternight, but unfortunately I have actually been given a duty of some value.
WM: The alliance with Overwatch seems to have put a spring in our Aspirant’s step. She’s finally found a use for me aside from “st& here & look intimidating.”
WM: I will be taking over our fighter squadrons while she’s away, as to keep up appearances.
WM: They are quite a mess however. So Lynx, whatever you messaged me about, please just spit it out.
LS: 1’m glad you’re enjoy1ng your new du71es.
WM: Who said I was enjoying them?
LS: 1, 7oo, can read be7ween 7he l1nes of h1ghblood wankery.
LS: Bu7 1f 1 am 1ndeed on a 71me l1m17.
LS: 17 1s abou7 sa1d Asp1ran7.
WM: Surprise surprise.
LS: As 1f we d1dn’7 spend a s1gn1f1can7 por71on of our log 1n snuff-pressed nookery devo71ng 7housands of l1nes 7o your clus7erpa1l of a quadran7 corner.
WM: Zarya is not only your kismesis, she’s the cornerstone for every event on this ship. Nothing goes by without revolving around her for a few orbits & being flung off into space.
WM: She even has Doomfist’s entire fascination at this point.
LS: 1f only h1s fasc1na71on d1dn’7 1nvolve bea71ng her nearly 7o dea7h every per1gee.
WM: What? He’s still training her?
LS: 7he frequency and bru7al17y of 7he1r sess1ons has only 1ncreased.
LS: She refuses 7o modera7e, suffer1ng wha7ever he asks by some m1sgu1ded bel1ef 7ha7 17 w1ll make her s7ronger.
LS: 17 1s only ge771ng worse and 1f you had seen when she came back 7o our resp17e blocks 7h1s las7 71me you would also
LS: 1 can’7 make her see reason.
WM: Can you not? She listens to your advice more than anyone, even Doomfist.
LS: No, no7 me. 7h1s 1s no7 some7h1ng 1 can do wh1le s71ll
LS: 1 can’7
LS: Someone needs 7o pale her.
WM: …
WM: What.
LS: She needs a mora1l, 1mmed1a7ely. Someone who can keep her from ge771ng herself k1lled.
LS: 1 do no7 7rus7 many people whole-hear7edly on 7h1s sh1p, no7 when 17 comes 7o Zarya.
LS: Bu7 you are one of 7hose people.
WM: I’m sorry, are you
WM: Pimping
WM: For her?
LS: 17 1s necessary! 1f Zarya ge7s herself k1lled 1n a mere 7ra1n1ng exerc1se (wh1ch she w1ll) 7hen we’re all dead, our opera71on crumbles before we even make our grea7 move. No7 7o men71on wha7 an embarrassmen7 7ha7 would be! W1dowmaker, would you 7ruly l1ke 7o have spen7 your en71re l1fe 1n a rebell1on only 7o have 7he would-be 7hrone-warmer acc1den7ly skewered dur1ng a dr1ll, and her whole flee7 go 7o shambles?
WM: Lynx, you’re being ridiculous.
WM: You cannot orchestrate a moirallegiance out connivance.
LS: Why no7? Hasn’7 all of 7roll h1s7ory been forced concup1scen7 ma7ches 1n order 7o sa71sfy 7he f1l1al drones? Aren’7 conc1l1a71ons 7hemselves been evolu71onary necessar1ly?
WM: Lynx. You’re thinking like an imperial bulgehumper.
LS: 1 spen7 mos7 of my l1fe as one.
WM: Which is why it is so hard to remember you are free Lynx Seventeen.
WM: We are all free.
WM: Loose canon highbloods needing unwilling morails for the good of society is just as constructed as arranged concupiscence. A morail is her choice to make, not yours.
WM: & if you are so worried, so desperate to make sure nothing ill becomes of her, then you hardly need to outsource pale duties.
LS: You can’7 be ser1ous.
LS: Haven’7 you had enough of p17ched-pale vac1lla71on?
WM: The two of you have already had a rather unconventional kismesissitude. Based on what you’ve told me, its sounds like someone haughty little teal is already halfway to pity already, hm?
LS: 1’m no7.
LS: No, 17 doesn’7 ma77er wha7 1 am or am no7, 17’s more 1mpor7an7 wha7 1 can’7 be. 7he Asp1ran7 canno7 be blurr1ng quadran7s, no7 w17h so much on 7he l1ne.
WM: Do you not remember what advice you gave me, all those sweeps ago, deep in the denial of my own woes?
LS: 7h1s 1s d1fferen7.
LS: 17’s Zarya.
WM: Oh Lynx.
LS: 7h1s 1s po1n7less. 1f you w1ll no7 help, 1 w1ll f1nd someone who w1ll.
-- lynxSeventeen [LS] ceased trolling widowMaker [WM]--
GM: No.
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PH: no
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HH: HA HA HA
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TT: (6 sorry old friend but the answer is no 9)
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BL: no
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HH: HA HA HA HA HA HA
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SS: no-way!
SS: I-know-to-stay-away-from-crazy!
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SH: …no?
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HH: HA HA HA HA HA HA ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!
-- lynxSeventeen [LS] began trolling sucroseCranium [SC]--
SC: ~ yo cariño what’~ ~pinning ~
LS: Ac7ually, wha7 7he fuck am 1 7h1nk1ng?
LS: Never m1nd.
-- lynxSeventeen [LS] ceased trolling sucroseCranium [SC]--
SC: ? um ?
“Aaaand…done! There you go hermana, as rosy as a virgin guppy.”
Sombra whisks the towel away and you are bare to the whistling air of the battleship, away from its warmth and chemical smell. It is an odd loss to care about, but it still prickles the skin along the back of your neck as you stare into your new reflection, the pink shock on your head evoking something more painful than nostalgia.
Sombra had promised results and you should never have doubted her. Her own violet ombre was always exquisite, and yet part of you had thought that you’d never again…
“Thank you,” you say softly.
“Eh, don’t mention it,” she waves away. “Seriously don’t. If everyone finds out how good I am at this, they’ll be a line out my respiteblock all the way to the prow, and I’ll never get anything done.”
She must see a wet spot she missed, for she idly begins to massage the towel through your hair once again.
“Plus,” she says after a while, for you have not moved, will not move as long as this moment stretches, “I missed the pink. Reminds me of old times.”
She was yours before anything, before even Lynx. You will not say it, because you know she would not want to hear it, would make her pull away from these fleeting moment where you allow each other to remember. But you hold it to your bloodpusher all the same.
“Thank you,” you say again.