Ep0.5 - 'Old As You Feel' - Closed
Feb 2, 2012 22:57:33 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 2, 2012 22:57:33 GMT -5
Ironhide froze for a nanoklik when Cleaver moved, vents hiccuping. The wash of her field over his was encompassing warm heat, and he had to shutter his optics for a moment before he could drag in a ventilation and relax into the feel.
And Pit, he just wanted to... he wasn't even sure. Primus, he'd always been utter slag at this kind of thing, cues and social interactions that went straight past him at mach speed and him not even aware of it. He wanted... he just wanted to curl into and over that warmth, press her close and hold her like kin and cohort, her warmth dragging and catching at something deep inside that ached with a hollow emptiness. The few and too far between times he could hold his younglings - either of them, really, Shadow rapidly imprinting on the same protocols that Blue had woven through his systems - made everything right for brief periods, but in between the emptiness grew.
Ironhide's arm tightened of its own accord across her back and shoulder, and when she didn't draw away he vented shallowly and let himself lean in. Cycling his optics down, he let himself just feel for a long moment, pulsing affection / wonder / gratitude in a swirl that loosely sketched the ghost of an unwritten glyph for things he didn't have words for swirling through his lines. Lowering his head, he pressed the side of his helm against the top of her own, drawing in the elemental traces of sun warmed metals that didn't exist on the organic world around them with each vent cycle.
"Without 'bots like yeh," he rumbled softly, "we're all just fightin' for th' sake of fightin'. Clawin' for a victory that won't mean scrap, because we're all just weapons an' what're we gonna do when there's nothin' left t' fight?"
He let his fingers trace the edge of her shoulder plate, brushing across an old weld. "Ah was sparked for th' Guard," he told her. "T' protect Cybertron. When it went dark there's been times Ah thought maybe that should've been th' end of it there. But so long as someone remembers - not just th' fightin', not just th' war, but what we were - then it's not gone yet. An Ah'm glad for that."
Turning his head, he dared to brush his mouth against her helm, words whispered across her mesh. "Thank yeh."
And Pit, he just wanted to... he wasn't even sure. Primus, he'd always been utter slag at this kind of thing, cues and social interactions that went straight past him at mach speed and him not even aware of it. He wanted... he just wanted to curl into and over that warmth, press her close and hold her like kin and cohort, her warmth dragging and catching at something deep inside that ached with a hollow emptiness. The few and too far between times he could hold his younglings - either of them, really, Shadow rapidly imprinting on the same protocols that Blue had woven through his systems - made everything right for brief periods, but in between the emptiness grew.
Ironhide's arm tightened of its own accord across her back and shoulder, and when she didn't draw away he vented shallowly and let himself lean in. Cycling his optics down, he let himself just feel for a long moment, pulsing affection / wonder / gratitude in a swirl that loosely sketched the ghost of an unwritten glyph for things he didn't have words for swirling through his lines. Lowering his head, he pressed the side of his helm against the top of her own, drawing in the elemental traces of sun warmed metals that didn't exist on the organic world around them with each vent cycle.
"Without 'bots like yeh," he rumbled softly, "we're all just fightin' for th' sake of fightin'. Clawin' for a victory that won't mean scrap, because we're all just weapons an' what're we gonna do when there's nothin' left t' fight?"
He let his fingers trace the edge of her shoulder plate, brushing across an old weld. "Ah was sparked for th' Guard," he told her. "T' protect Cybertron. When it went dark there's been times Ah thought maybe that should've been th' end of it there. But so long as someone remembers - not just th' fightin', not just th' war, but what we were - then it's not gone yet. An Ah'm glad for that."
Turning his head, he dared to brush his mouth against her helm, words whispered across her mesh. "Thank yeh."