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need_healing[The alert had come on a quiet, snowy evening, on a channel that Genji barely remembered he even still had access to. It was little more than a ping, a simple query that required no immediate answer should he decide to ignore it; which, he thinks, would be a mistake. It had been years since Overwatch 'disbanded' in rather spectacular fashion and the remains of the once renowned organization left to the whims of a dispassionate bureaucracy. His memories of those times are... conflicted, tainted by a haze of self-loathing that had nearly consumed him, and even now he struggles to recall them with any real objectivity.
Zenyatta had, of course, so effortlessly sensed his troubled state, and they had talked into the evening on the matter. Afterwards, Genji himself had sat alone through the night reflecting on his course of action. The signal itself isn't what concerns him, but rather who else it would have reached. He finds his thoughts continually drifting to the letter he'd sent not more than a few days ago, addressed to a humanitarian aid outpost in the middle east: Dr. Ziegler would have received the call as well. Hers is one of the few memories he can recall with any amount of genuine fondness, part of the reason he'd made an effort to stay in touch with her even after the shutdown. But now...
He left the next day, with his master's blessing. Peace could not always be maintained by standing still and the omnic had understood Genji's decision to leave in pursuit of it. It was time to move forward and he knew where the first step would take him.
The heat of the Iranian desert is a far cry from the snow of the Tibetan mountains, and far more so the war torn streets that necessitated the need for aid workers like Angela. Genji suspects that this turmoil plays no small part in the recall request and he understands the need, but for the time being, his focus is.. slightly narrower.
She isn't difficult to find and he waits until her tent has emptied of both staff and patients before letting himself in: a corner that had previously been unoccupied quietly taken up now by a figure wrapped in an old nomad's cloak. He doesn't announce his presence immediately, taking a moment to watch her. It's been years since he'd seen her last and it almost doesn't feel real now.]
...Good evening, Dr. Ziegler. [He pushes back his hood and with any luck she won't immediately call security. Or attempt to put him down on her own.] I hope I'm not intruding.
Zenyatta had, of course, so effortlessly sensed his troubled state, and they had talked into the evening on the matter. Afterwards, Genji himself had sat alone through the night reflecting on his course of action. The signal itself isn't what concerns him, but rather who else it would have reached. He finds his thoughts continually drifting to the letter he'd sent not more than a few days ago, addressed to a humanitarian aid outpost in the middle east: Dr. Ziegler would have received the call as well. Hers is one of the few memories he can recall with any amount of genuine fondness, part of the reason he'd made an effort to stay in touch with her even after the shutdown. But now...
He left the next day, with his master's blessing. Peace could not always be maintained by standing still and the omnic had understood Genji's decision to leave in pursuit of it. It was time to move forward and he knew where the first step would take him.
The heat of the Iranian desert is a far cry from the snow of the Tibetan mountains, and far more so the war torn streets that necessitated the need for aid workers like Angela. Genji suspects that this turmoil plays no small part in the recall request and he understands the need, but for the time being, his focus is.. slightly narrower.
She isn't difficult to find and he waits until her tent has emptied of both staff and patients before letting himself in: a corner that had previously been unoccupied quietly taken up now by a figure wrapped in an old nomad's cloak. He doesn't announce his presence immediately, taking a moment to watch her. It's been years since he'd seen her last and it almost doesn't feel real now.]
...Good evening, Dr. Ziegler. [He pushes back his hood and with any luck she won't immediately call security. Or attempt to put him down on her own.] I hope I'm not intruding.
