fox (weapon_of_fate) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-07-25 17:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, fox, wesley gibson |
WHO: Fox & Wesley Gibson
WHERE: the lobby, then down into the maze
WHEN: Sunday, July 25th
WHAT: hungry like the wolf
STATUS: closed/in progress
WARNINGS: probably some blood & violence
Fox was not the type of person to go out of her way to help others. It wasn't that she didn't believe in altruism. She spent the majority of her adult life fighting the good fight, in her own way, except in a far more removed and bigger picture kind of way. That was what the Loom was all about. Following the kill orders doled out by interpretation of binary code in the form of mistakes weaved into fabric might sound ridiculous, but she knew better than most how Fate worked. The Loom was legit. She had the scar on her neck to prove it. She wasn't sure how she should feel about her second chance at life. It was hard not to be thankful for not being dead, but she had been purposeful in her sacrifice. In fact, Fox didn't even think of her final moments as a sacrifice. Sacrifice sounded noble. Heroic. For the greater good. She was simply righting a wrong. She didn't deserve to be a weapon of Fate anymore when she had been carrying out the will of something else. Sloan wasn't Fate. He wasn't God, though he acted arrogant enough at the end. As he said, he wanted to get rid of Wesley as the final obstacle standing in his way and take their Fraternity of assassins to 'heights reserved only for the gods of men' he had said. The others might have said 'fuck the code', but the code was everything to Fox. It was everything she stood for. She did what she did and could sleep soundly at night because she rested assured in the fact that her hand was guided by a higher power than herself. She had once bought into Sloan's bullshit about their purpose being to maintain stability in an unstable world. A wolf among the sheep. Kill one, save a thousand. Like she said to Wes, though, there was no Loom of Fate here. No one's name was going to come up. They didn't have to do that anymore. Being here was like retirement. Fox knew herself. The first few days of relief in her resurrection was going to pass quick and then she was going to feel bored. Purposeless. Anchorless and adrift in the ocean. She might not have readily volunteered to participate in helping the other inhabitants of the hotel who had stumbled into whatever the current wave of trouble was going on, but then Wesley told her he was going to. Typical. She couldn't very well sit back and let him risk his neck after she died protecting it. At least that's what she would say if asked. She was already waiting in the lobby by the time Wesley came out to meet her. Pushing away from the wall she was leaning casually against, she strolled towards him to meet him halfway. "So, we're into big damn heroics now?" |