[There's been so much to take in over the last week or so that Zenyatta has scarcely had time to do anything but learn- the place, the people, their histories, all of them demanded his attention all but exclusively, leaving space only for the practicalities of living in this strange new world. And so, anyone who just so happens to run into Zenyatta today will find him at the foot of a great, twisted tree in the heart of Verens, hovering, legs folded and head bowed, barely a foot off of the ground above its mossy snarl of roots. True, the harmonic thrummings of his body are a touch louder than usual, a little more sonorous, and he does seem to be emitting a little more light than he normally would- but that is hardly unusual, is it? It has been a while since he last meditated.
Deep in his private reverie, it isn't until his olfactory receptors distract him into checking that he realises something else has changed. The roots beneath him are becoming less mossy and decidedly more flowery with every passing second: luminescent white buds that push their way up amongst the tree roots, opening in time to the rhythmic chime of his orbs. Each flower releases a perfume that sits somewhere between lavender and sandalwood.]
What on...? [So much for meditation. Zenyatta's already reaching down to cup a handful of the unseasonal little creations, head cocked to one side in fascination. Of course, he's been told about the effect of emotions here, but he wasn't expecting it to be quite so literal. Who would have guessed that this would be the form tranquillity took?
His gaze follows the line of flowers and green, down the roots and beyond, leaning further and further forward until suddenly he finds that he's not looking at the ground anymore but someone's foot. Feet, even. Covered in flowers. Slowly, he lifts his head and looks up into the owner's face.] ... ah. My apologies. Those appear to be mine.
prompt b aka snakes on another plane of existence
[Admittedly, this was not a task Zenyatta had planned to take on himself; for one thing he's not one for killing the local flora and fauna, regardless of how inconvenient they might be. For another, given how much of the city he still hasn't seen, he wouldn't have known where to start. It was only when he awoke from his nightly stasis to find two snakes curled around his body, seeking the radiant of his internal core, that he found himself admitting that perhaps snake-catching was somewhat more worthy of his time than he'd initially thought.
As it turns out, in fact, he's a real natural. Perhaps it's because they don't recognise his metal body as belonging to another living creature (they aren't to be blamed for their relative philosophical ignorance) but all Zenyatta has to do is settle himself down in a likely-looking spot and wait for them to come slithering out to meet him: across his shoulders, up the legs of his trousers, around his feet. True, they tend to snap and hiss when they realise that their perch is capable of moving and, indeed, capturing them, but the only snake to try his patience ended up with a mouthful of cold, hard titanium. Unfortunate. For the snake, at least.
Before the day is out he's collected an impressive quantity of snakes- but before he calls it a day Zenyatta finds himself hesitating, struck by a sudden thought. Which is why he's rounding on the first person he sees, touching their shoulder lightly with one hand and bowing his head in greeting before he makes his request.]
Excuse me. Would you check my back for snakes? [Zenyatta turns obligingly revealing a skeletal robotic spine- in between the vertebrates sits, yes, one very brightly coloured snake.
It's also tangled in a few of his wires. Because of course it is.]
prompt c
[A deep, thoughtful voice, rich with electronic reverb, comes floating over the amulet; somehow, it sounds like a glowing teal. It's also extraordinarily soothing. Occasionally he's interrupted by a little hum or ring, like a distant wind-chime.]
How wonderful! To think that we should all be connected by this strange contraption... it is a privilege to share in your thoughts, my friends. [and he means to stop there, but somehow he finds himself continuing:] But then, I would like to hope that I have nothing to hide.
[ooc: please feel free to hmu in a pm/ throw a wildcard at me if you want to work something else out!]
Zenyatta | Overwatch
[There's been so much to take in over the last week or so that Zenyatta has scarcely had time to do anything but learn- the place, the people, their histories, all of them demanded his attention all but exclusively, leaving space only for the practicalities of living in this strange new world. And so, anyone who just so happens to run into Zenyatta today will find him at the foot of a great, twisted tree in the heart of Verens, hovering, legs folded and head bowed, barely a foot off of the ground above its mossy snarl of roots. True, the harmonic thrummings of his body are a touch louder than usual, a little more sonorous, and he does seem to be emitting a little more light than he normally would- but that is hardly unusual, is it? It has been a while since he last meditated.
Deep in his private reverie, it isn't until his olfactory receptors distract him into checking that he realises something else has changed. The roots beneath him are becoming less mossy and decidedly more flowery with every passing second: luminescent white buds that push their way up amongst the tree roots, opening in time to the rhythmic chime of his orbs. Each flower releases a perfume that sits somewhere between lavender and sandalwood.]
What on...? [So much for meditation. Zenyatta's already reaching down to cup a handful of the unseasonal little creations, head cocked to one side in fascination. Of course, he's been told about the effect of emotions here, but he wasn't expecting it to be quite so literal. Who would have guessed that this would be the form tranquillity took?
His gaze follows the line of flowers and green, down the roots and beyond, leaning further and further forward until suddenly he finds that he's not looking at the ground anymore but someone's foot. Feet, even. Covered in flowers. Slowly, he lifts his head and looks up into the owner's face.] ... ah. My apologies. Those appear to be mine.
prompt b aka snakes on another plane of existence
[Admittedly, this was not a task Zenyatta had planned to take on himself; for one thing he's not one for killing the local flora and fauna, regardless of how inconvenient they might be. For another, given how much of the city he still hasn't seen, he wouldn't have known where to start. It was only when he awoke from his nightly stasis to find two snakes curled around his body, seeking the radiant of his internal core, that he found himself admitting that perhaps snake-catching was somewhat more worthy of his time than he'd initially thought.
As it turns out, in fact, he's a real natural. Perhaps it's because they don't recognise his metal body as belonging to another living creature (they aren't to be blamed for their relative philosophical ignorance) but all Zenyatta has to do is settle himself down in a likely-looking spot and wait for them to come slithering out to meet him: across his shoulders, up the legs of his trousers, around his feet. True, they tend to snap and hiss when they realise that their perch is capable of moving and, indeed, capturing them, but the only snake to try his patience ended up with a mouthful of cold, hard titanium. Unfortunate. For the snake, at least.
Before the day is out he's collected an impressive quantity of snakes- but before he calls it a day Zenyatta finds himself hesitating, struck by a sudden thought. Which is why he's rounding on the first person he sees, touching their shoulder lightly with one hand and bowing his head in greeting before he makes his request.]
Excuse me. Would you check my back for snakes? [Zenyatta turns obligingly revealing a skeletal robotic spine- in between the vertebrates sits, yes, one very brightly coloured snake.
It's also tangled in a few of his wires. Because of course it is.]
prompt c
[A deep, thoughtful voice, rich with electronic reverb, comes floating over the amulet; somehow, it sounds like a glowing teal. It's also extraordinarily soothing. Occasionally he's interrupted by a little hum or ring, like a distant wind-chime.]
How wonderful! To think that we should all be connected by this strange contraption... it is a privilege to share in your thoughts, my friends. [and he means to stop there, but somehow he finds himself continuing:] But then, I would like to hope that I have nothing to hide.
[ooc: please feel free to hmu in a pm/ throw a wildcard at me if you want to work something else out!]