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overwatch-does-stuff · 6 years

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Hey, I really love this blog! I think your characterisation of everyone is spot-on. I was thinking about this a while ago, and I think you would have a pretty cool take on it so- what does everyone think of Hanzo and Genji's dragons? like, do they trust them, think they're cool or just think "eff them, they don't science"?

Thank you so much for the request, anon! However, I'm going to use this to bring up some of my ideas and headcanons regarding the Shimada Dragons before I get into the character list.I have some very different headcanons than most of the fandom regarding the Dragons. I personally don't see the Dragons as animals, as cute as some of the fanon interpretations are. Rather, I think the Dragons are very representative of both the brothers' souls.First and foremost, in the short "Dragons", Hanzo is heard telling the story of the two dragons of the north and south winds. However, it is revealed later on that the story is a metaphor for his relationship with Genji. Hanzo is personifying himself as the dragon, which makes it hard for me to believe that the Dragons are some sort of separate, animal-like entity from the brothers.Plus, their dragons and how the brothers use them are very representative of their current emotional states. Hanzo, when using his ult., says "Let the dragon consume you", then expels the dragons from his body through the tattoo. Anyone who plays Overwatch knows that walking into the dragons is incredibly harmful to your health. This implies a negative connotation around the dragon, and this reflects Hanzo's view of himself. When visiting Illios, Hanzo says "Such beauty. . . wasted on the soul of a killer". This is Hanzo still regretting killing Genji, and being unable to forgive himself. Hanzo has a very negative view of himself. Contrast this with Genji's dragon. Instead of it exiting his body and causing harm, Genji's dragon stays near him, encircles him, and makes him more powerful. When activating this power, Genji says "The dragon becomes me". This gives the dragon a very positive connotation, in direct contrast with Hanzo's. This reflects Genji's newfound inner peace and acceptance of himself.To summarize:- Hanzo's dragon kills you with the power of self-loathing and depression.- Genji's dragon kills you with the power of confidence. This doesn't mean that the character interactions for this list won't interesting! These boys are still summoning some weird magic-type stuff. This is going to be fun.On to the list! What Overwatch thinks of the Shimada Dragons: Tank:D.va just wants to know how it works! She's asking Genji all sorts of questions (as she's still a little intimidated by Hanzo,) and she's determined to get answers. When Genji starts getting annoyed though, she backs off. She'd just like to see it more often. It's so cool!Orisa is wracking her databases, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. At first she thought the dragons were some sort of technological illusion put on by Genji's armor, but when she found out Hanzo could do it to the idea was a bust. She's still deep in thought about it. She'll probably go ask Zenyatta about it later.Reinhardt is in awe of it, but he's not too surprised. He's always believed in a little bit of magic and the supernatural; he just didn't expect to be proven right. He's a little hesitant to ask Genji about it now, as the ninja was not up to talk about it during Blackwatch.Roadhog tries to avoid working on a team with them. He's half convinced he's seeing things, and half convinced that the brothers are conning the whole thing. Nothing like a big spirit dragon to intimidate your enemies. He's seen just about everything in his life, and he's not about to add something like magic to the list.Winston is intensely curious, but tries to avoid asking questions, as Hanzo is, and Genji used to be, very stand-offish about talking about them. Instead, Winston tries to gather data whenever the dragons come out. Whether it be by measuring the air when a dragon passes by, or making observations of Hanzo's tattoo, he'll find out some amount of truth one way or another.Wrecking Ball thinks the entire thing is some very impressive pyrotechnics. He asks Hanzo how to "make dragons". Hanzo now refuses to speak to him. Hammond is now coming up with a plan to break into Genji's room and find out what their secret is.Zarya at first dismissed the dragons as fake, mocking Genji endlessly about it and making snide remarks to Hanzo once in a while. That is, until she saw them in combat. She then apologized to Hanzo, at least. She's been rather quiet to Genji lately. She doesn't seem to ask any questions about them, perhaps out of respect. Damage:Bastion in fascinated with the Dragons, and tends to get distracted when either of the brothers summon theirs. This can cause problems during battle whenever Bastion is expected to provide covering fire. Outside of battle though, it has asked Genji about the dragons. Genji explained them as best as he could.Doomfist is baffled on how such powerful a force could exist, yet have no records or evidence. He's seen the dragons first hand in battle, in an encounter with Hanzo, but he has yet to come up with a rational explanation for them. Moira couldn't provide answers, and Sombra was unable to come up with any prior history of spirit dragons. He hopes to recruit Hanzo, not just as an asset, but to get an answer on the Dragons as well.Genji isn't quite sure how he and his family have access to the Dragons. All he knows is that it is some sort of ancient power. It thrums constantly within him, and only in moments of true feeling can it be summoned. He used to summon it out of anger, in an almost uncontrollable force. Now he is able to summon it when he needs it most, and it greatly aids him in battle. He has Zenyatta to thank for that.Hanzo isn't nearly so trusting of his Dragons. They are linked to his negative emotions, and he can only summon them when he is overwhelmed by anger, fear, or sadness. He is shocked that Genji can summon his so easily. However, Hanzo also uses his dragon much more as a tool; he purposely brings up bad emotions (especially over Genji's death) during battle and sometimes even hurts himself in order to summon them. This horrifies Genji.Junkrat totally thinks that the Dragons are fireworks. He keeps asking the brothers where they buy them. When he finds out they can't be bought, he spends days experimenting with his own explosives. He can't quite get the same results.McCree knows better than to ask about the Dragons. He's been on a team with Genji before, and back then, he was not in a place to talk about it. Because the Dragons aren't quite so surprising to him anymore, McCree is rather casual when it comes to talking about them, though. He'll explain them to the newbies if questions are asked.Mei is absolutely fascinated with the Dragons! She wants to know what they are- animals? Spirits? Magic? Either way, she's come up with cute names for them (Genji's is Wasabi, Hanzo's are Soba and Ginsing). She sometimes helps Winston try and study them, but she usually lets the brothers know if they're taking readings. Hanzo hates it. Genji doesn't mind.Pharah didn't believe her mother's tales of Genji, and thought the whole "Dragons" thing might just be a metaphor for a battle stance or something like that. When she actually saw the Dragons for the first time, she couldn't believe her eyes. She asks McCree about it later, but doesn't bring it up to anyone else.Reaper knows a lot more than he lets on. During Blackwatch, he had Moira gather information on Genji's Dragon. He took this information and used it to plan tactics to utilize it. Nowadays, he uses what he knows to avoid it. He knows what a powerful weapon it is. He has yet to tell anyone else in Talon the extent of what he knows.Soldier 76 doesn't know nearly as much about the Dragons. Though also a strategist, he hasn't asked Genji or Hanzo about it. He figures that the brothers know when and where to use their abilities. Genji usually communicates and coordinates with his team before using it. Hanzo does not. This can lead to some mishaps during battle, which annoys Soldier to no end.Sombra has searched the web inside and out, but has found no information on anything like the Dragons. Heck, she can barely find records of the Shimada clan. She figures that the family has a closed internet system. She would love to get into it sometime, but that would require an on-site hack, and as of current plans involving the heir, Talon does not want to make the clan mad.Symmetra thinks that the Dragons are nothing more than hard-light structures. She can create similar illusions, but not on the scale of either of the brothers. She wonders if they secretly are masters of hard light, or if they have some sort of technology that allows them to create such constructions on the fly. However, she sees that the Dragons are of spiritual importance to the brothers, so she does not ask. Torbjorn hates, hates, hates even acknowledging the Dragons' existence. He pretends that they don't exist most of the time. However, back in the day, he helped to build Genji's cyborg armor, and he had to build an entirely separate cooling system to deal with the energy surge that the Dragon creates, so he knows that it's real; the logical part of his brain just refuses to admit it. (Basically, "eff them, they don't science", lol.)Tracer thinks that the Dragons are wicked cool. She asks a lot of harmless questions, mostly to Hanzo (for some reason), such as "What makes them go through walls?" or "Why do you have two, but your brother only has one?". Hanzo usually refuses to respond, but she has gotten an answer or two. She usually tells the answers to Winston, as to help him with his study.Widowmaker doesn't have time to dwell on the nature of the Dragons. All she cares about is that they're inconvenient to deal with, often forcing her to move positions and interrupting her usual sniper dual with Hanzo. Support:Ana doesn't ask many questions, as she sees it as a breach of privacy. She only knows what information the brothers openly say and what she has seen in battle. She does, however, ask the brothers if they would like to be nanoboosted when they summon their Dragons. Genji accepts. Hanzo refuses.Brigitte didn't believe Reinhardt's tales of Genji's Dragon, chalking it up to her mentor's active imagination. All that changed when she saw them in battle for the first time. She's especially fascinated with how Genji's cyborg parts handle the energy surge. She tried to ask her father about it, but all he would give her is the blueprints. Since then, she's come up with several upgrades for the system. Genji, however, politely declines them every time she brings them up.Lucio thinks they're super cool, but he doesn't ask questions, and often is the one to stop others (read: Tracer and D.va) from asking them as well. He understand that the spirit dragons may be a personal thing, so he only knows what information is volunteered. However, this doesn't stop him from creating sick remixes inspired by the Dragons. Mercy knew about the Dragons from the very beginning- it was a medical miracle that Genji survived, and she attributes a small part of that to the dragon spirit inside of him. She's always been intensely curious about it, but she can never bring herself to ask questions. Instead, she focuses on getting to know Genji as a person more. Perhaps with time she may learn more.Moira is also intensely curious. Back in Blackwatch, she was able to study Genji in her laboratory whenever he was injured. She had many theories about the Dragons, but none of them turned out to be true. Regardless, she was able to get many useful data readings as to how they function. Nowadays, she would love to get her hands on Hanzo to further her study, and that is one of the driving forces in the plan of recruiting him to Talon.Zenyatta sees the Dragons as spiritual entities that reflect the brother's relationships with their inner selves. He knows more about the Dragons than anyone else, as he is Genji's closest confidant when it comes to such things. He was able to see how the Dragon changed throughout Genji's spiritual enlightenment. Zenyatta wishes he could help Hanzo with his troubles, but the bowman always refuses.

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alchemisland · 5 years

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Moors Mutt - II

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Rising early, if rising it was and not merely stirring from a wakened restive state, I left the tavern in secret and walked a barren stretch. At pale dawn birds like Aztec idols flighted at my stirring. Cold light stained the pasture either side. Sleepshod, the road to Cairn Cottage found me quiet company. Even the tinkers were not yet to the road in their triskeled wagons.

The air was heavy with lavender. A pebbled stretch stirred a reverie of my late father and a codex of heroic tales he had purchased for me, whose chronicles of high adventure stirred me like nothing prior. At six years old, tales of old Arabia appealed most. Kingdoms wrought of sunstones stark against a tangerine haze, swirling tarot star ever-visible, scorpions armoured like chargers; the sheer cloying madness of it all. I visited them in dreams, jumped from the paths of unruly camels, watced the impenetrable waves humbly part in the wake of royal palanquins.

Their heroes were unlike our knights. More often sulky boys preferring quill to falchion. Brooding teenagehood made me relish the stranger entries, tales without lessons existing solely to unnerve, speaking on the bleak lives of Tartarian wizards.

Into adulthood, I came to enjoy Greek tales best of all. The tragedy of Ajax in his lover's plate leaking on the golden sand. Waves, caressing the moored fleet in passing, bursting against the shale where his pyre burned. Always when I hear crunching pebbles, I think of soldiers marching on the strand near Troy.

Before long, a trap could be heard from the middle distance, the first in a network of wagons due to arrive at Cairn Cottage to transport the priceless contents of Lady Sizemore’s library back to Sperrin, where they would be carefully parcelled and carried by train to the Royal Academy Library. I waited astride the ditch until the crude plume atop the horses head appeared like the mantle of some deposed pagan lord. Ixion's disc four times divided had been fixed to bear this chariot. Its heavy trundle ground debris to powder. I hailed the driver, a wind being, every strand of hair or cloth lank enough to lift stood disarrayed. A peak stole his brow but a smile waved me aboard.

The driver never spoke. There was a sense of grim penitence about all I had met thus far. Their lines of deep regret boldened every jowl and furrowed brow. Each bore the weight of his forebears in full. A place without time and silent, where happiness and sadness could last all of forever. So silent were they, matched only by monks in their solemnity, I christened this ham the abbodrice of Sperrin.

Inside chaos reigned. Lady Sizemore's estate was measured first in paper above coin. Hundreds, thousands, of jaundiced sheets all in disorder busied every surface. Before a single penny changed hands, a great many hours I spent hauling boxes, within which were more boxes where spiders large as potatoes spun temporary wonders above the invoices.

I wonder what effect prolonged tedium has. Such thoughts are entertained in avoidance of work as should never be given lucid credence. An entire day dedicated solely to translating letters in incomprehensible cursive, it felt ridiculous. My mind, perhaps reflecting its surroundings, felt dulled, unfocused. So long I stared, when I pried my eyes I found feint margins plastered across reality.

The previous night's visitations I had pondered, ultimately chalking to anxiety. Nothing substantially portentous. Unfortunately, another day I required before I indulged cryptozooligcal fancies.

Darkness in ravenfeather arrived premature. I ran to the track where the last impatient husbandman sat in stasis. 'Bound for Sperrin?' I called, already halfway inside.

I arrived at Lar's fiercely humoured. Tired, thirsty and caked in mud golemlike, my gladness at journey's end was quickly consumed by the fury of indignity, having endured the return trip atop a sewagesucker's swine van. Lar tended bar. I wondered had he stirred in my absence. Anticipating a thirst, two mugs were set.

I dropped my satchel and enjoyed relief akin to weightlessness by contrast. We drained tankards like soon-to-war Saxons, spoke of weather, I asked had anyone noteworthy visited, mostly from politeness. When asked had the room served, I replied it had done so more than adequately. Again, politeness.

Not wishing to appear overeager, I spared him details of my dream. If the tale was relayed to me, I should say how convenient the very man hoping to find the beast would experience a vision. Besides, in the unlikely event we found a mangy badger after I'd described a prehistoric horror.. perish the thought.

'Do we depart tomorrow?' Lar grunted as he pretended to dust.

'Short delay as it happens. I'd have said from the door, only for the ale calling. Alas, labour remains. My charges lust for satisfaction. They are at Rome's gates! Distant cousins write in droves. By air, land and sea their letters come, squeezing through grates, shimmying down chimneys. Forget the beast, if they find me I'm dead.' I said, picking at a heel of bread.

'We sank tankards enough last night. I've seen plenty pale on the dizzy morning after the night before. If this delay is to spite me, let me allay concerns, I'm the man for this job. We're the men for this job.' Lar shot a glance at Fergus. A pale lance cleft his brow through the slitted shutters.

I looked to my empty cup then longingly at his selection. Lar fingered a bottle, but reached further back and took another instead.

'My god, man. Boil a pot and toss it down your trousers. No such notions occurred to me. We're expedition mates! I didn't make a dent in the work, really.' I raised a silencing finger to hear the ale splash. 'There you have it. Mystery solved. If the mystery of the beast is this easy, we're laughing.' I inhaled its aroma. 'Listen, chap. There's something else I wanted to talk about before we go. I mean to publish an expedition diary. A chronicle of our adventures. Part scientific tome, part roaring adventure book. Your pub will be the busiest spot in the weald after this. Would you object to such?'

Lar's measured tone returned. Careful as a tiptoeing sinner, he asked 'You good?'

I smiled. 'Only Ben Adhem saw the book, ask him.'

Lar stove the ashen helm crowning his cigarette, plunging the embers into the cold bronze bowl. 'At writing.'

'You should say! I tease, I tease. To answer your question, yes. Humbly, in my hand the pen is like the master mason's chisel, from whence grand cathedrals spring forth from their less divine constituent parts.' Lar was fumbling for his tobacco already and I thought what small use that vice would be in peril.

'I'm convinced.' Lar spoke quickly, stumbling over the words to get them out. I took no offence at his zeal to change the subject. 'Do you have a manuscript at hand?' he asked.

'Not with me, unfortunately.' He stifled a sigh of relief. 'Upon returning home one story heavier, I'll ensure you receive signed copies of every one. I'll sing them My favourite tub of Lar. Yours literately, Beastman. That way you'll know it's me.'

Lar's ale, a home brew, was a swift agent, promising to travel from your mouth to the toilet's in twenty minutes. I joked he might patent it for a medicine. Call it the Midas touch. Everything it touched turns to gold: toilet seat, floor, shoes if you weren't careful.

I spied Fergus. His thumb led a blunt edge across the ribbed bark of a sprig, from which he had carved two lidded eyes and a pursed mouth.

Lar lit a cigarette from the flared end of another, then discarded it on the ashen pyre.

Lar had to raise the hatch for me, which spoiled any hope of a dramatic exit. 'Departure two days hence, on the strict proviso no unpleasant libel suit comes once my story hits print. Rest assured, I'll include nothing untoward, but I reserve the right to artistic licence. Print the myth.'

'Libel is a city crime.' Anticipating my desire, Lar walked while he spoke. I mirrored and slipped through the open portcullis to sleep, perchance to scream.

Lying in bed, I wondered what to include in my chronicle; exciting details only, or every charged exchange? Nobody asked how the shipwright felt constructing thousands of ships without prior notice. They only wanted Achilles. The reader will concede, I have included much of the mundane.

Well-oiled, I slept easily. Set like a star I saw things from the blind past, dark present and murky future, useless without chronology, stifling their prophetic nature. The beast came again, shaking the ground where it trod.

Lar, blackbird that he was, rose early. He emerged from the fugue state that best pleased his constitution and stretched, his wingspan filling the alcove. He found me in my linen cell, bewhaled as Jonah.

'Terrible day.' He drew the shutters. Groggily, I pulled the sheets down over my face to the sight of Lar's stocky silhouette in the dirty light. Tapping a cigarette loose on the sill, he plonked one cheek on the ledge and struck a match. 'Anything you want from town? I'm going to get supplies. I should be away most of the day. There won't be a return trip before we go. Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

'Ambulo in pace.' I tapped my journal, 'I have everything.'

'Do you have a mac?' he asked. The rain beat down harder.

'No, we're English, some Irish. Although I heard tell that a distant branch traded their roses for thistle stalks.' I smirked.

Lar shuddered, ill-humoured before midday despite protestations he needed no proper rest. 'I mean a waterproof.'

'Oh give me credit. That's humour.'

'We in the smiling countryside call it idiocy. There's a time for revels. Unless you've been up all night, dawn isn't it.' he said somewhat angrily.

'I don't have one and I'd like a loan if that's what you're asking, thank you. I didn't sleep well now you mention it' I tossed my feet onto the cold ground and felt for a sock.

Lar watched the rain spilling in romantic sheets. 'You'll need an ark to get back. It's like a bog when it rains. No one will be able to get you. Not me, not the constabulary, nor anyone else. If the weather worsens, make sure you get back in time. Otherwise, everything will be closed until further boatice.'

'Boatice?' I said.

'Now that is humour. Rain, boats, further notice. Get it?' Lar left, more spritely than when he entered.

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