Ep. 1 - In The Year Of '39... (Closed)
Dec 20, 2013 18:27:31 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 20, 2013 18:27:31 GMT -5
Inside a mountain overlooking the African savannah, two Cybertronians stepped out of their respective workspaces to give each other a look across the central atrium.
Layby shifted a little in the wide entrance to the bar, one arm wrapped around an enormous metal barrel. With his free hand, he pointed vaguely to his helm. "Did you..?"
From the Medbay, Cleaver shrugged her rotors.
"So that weren't my language center glitching," the former Guardian went on, looking even more puzzled than before.
Cleaver's arms dropped to her sides and she made her way across to him. "'fraid not. We have a purist on the line." She scoffed, something between pain and frustration crossing her features. "It's been so long since I've heard the Primal Vernacular, let alone spoken it..."
Layby folded his other arm across the barrel "Sounds like someone on the inflicting end of a fist fight." His mouth slanted into a smirk and he took a step back, retreating into the relative safety of the bar. "You have fun answering that, love."
Optics narrowing, Cleaver set one blade tip into the ground with significantly more force than was necessary and opened her comm.. ::Signal received by... I who live. We are safe place where you are welcome if you need... safe place.::
She knew Layby would be chuckling if he understood what she was saying, but his grasp of old Cybertronian was limited to profanity and the odd noun. As it was, she was rolling her optics at herself enough for the both of them.
::Much sorry but I speak Neocybex most. Do you help need? We are... not fighters in the war.::
Hopefully they would understand the gist of that...
Layby shifted a little in the wide entrance to the bar, one arm wrapped around an enormous metal barrel. With his free hand, he pointed vaguely to his helm. "Did you..?"
From the Medbay, Cleaver shrugged her rotors.
"So that weren't my language center glitching," the former Guardian went on, looking even more puzzled than before.
Cleaver's arms dropped to her sides and she made her way across to him. "'fraid not. We have a purist on the line." She scoffed, something between pain and frustration crossing her features. "It's been so long since I've heard the Primal Vernacular, let alone spoken it..."
Layby folded his other arm across the barrel "Sounds like someone on the inflicting end of a fist fight." His mouth slanted into a smirk and he took a step back, retreating into the relative safety of the bar. "You have fun answering that, love."
Optics narrowing, Cleaver set one blade tip into the ground with significantly more force than was necessary and opened her comm.. ::Signal received by... I who live. We are safe place where you are welcome if you need... safe place.::
She knew Layby would be chuckling if he understood what she was saying, but his grasp of old Cybertronian was limited to profanity and the odd noun. As it was, she was rolling her optics at herself enough for the both of them.
::Much sorry but I speak Neocybex most. Do you help need? We are... not fighters in the war.::
Hopefully they would understand the gist of that...