[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Interior Design [Carbine, Patch, Ratchet, Thunder]
Mar 5, 2020 23:16:27 GMT -5
Post by Carbine on Mar 5, 2020 23:16:27 GMT -5
((Permission gotten to wrastle Thunder some))
Carbine was content to once more wallow in his own self imposed misery. Mind swimming with rapid thoughts, the lingering emotional roller-coaster giving him whiplash from what he had put himself through. It only took one moment of unhinged abandon, a fleeting speck of time to seek self gratification and revenge he didn't NEED for everything around him to crumble down into a heinous mess of shattered glass. He just wanted it all to be over already, for it to be two days, two weeks, or just straight up two YEARS away from this second when things were undoubtedly different.
As with before, the sound of the Ground Bridge was harrowing to his scrambled psyche. Would it be Optimus this time? Red Alert? What if it was someone else with loose psychological bindings that would make the situation ten times worse somehow if that was even possible? This fear caused him to curl down further against Bolo, the canine's head dipping low as yellow eyes flicked between everyone present before locking onto who it was that exited the Bridge.
Bolo was scared, his body was raked by the emotions of Master, and as such even though it was Thunder coming up towards him at a rapid pace he still stooped down into a partial cower, paws splayed out for support. The panic that had raced through his veins was consuming, overpowering, and for a brief moment he started to crook open his jaw, the gears within straining as he began to pressurize the hydraulic. It would be a sign of 'aggression' that Thunder was very much aware of, before Bolo seemed to know better and shakily close his mouth.
Sensing the shift in Bolo, Carbine dared to open his eyes then, glancing over at ground level to look and see who's feet it was.
Only to see Thunder's peds.
Oh FUCK yes! He could speak! He could talk! The sight of the jet caused a violent wave of both relief and new panic to lance through his chest in a thousand needles. With this surge of energy Carbine sat upright abruptly, letting go of Bolo who didn't move an inch and remained squatted low to the ground in uncomfortable unease. With instant abandon and no care about the fuel splattered across his hand, he would thrust his arm up, fingers splayed, demanding to 'SPEAK' in the only way he could at the moment.
As Thunder got closer, he would be able to notice the abnormalities beyond just Carbine being in a stressed and manic state of mind. The left eye of the ex-Cop appeared to have a short of some kind, the lens crystal or LED or whatever created the color seeming to fracture orange on the bottom half, while the Energon that had been puked up was flooded with oil and rust. The fuel draped down his front before pattering to the ground in a small puddle, but Carbine didn't seem to give it a second look.
He sharply snapped his hand around Thunder's once the mech got in range.
-Look at his face! I did that Thunder! I did that! It was all me!-
Frantic twitched movements, lurching flinches of fingertips... This form of communication was always awkward in a way, requiring a certain level of motor control that Carbine couldn't ordinarily create. Repeated for practice, well learned, he HAD to learn this for his own ability to 'converse', and as such he refined it to a more careful edge that he couldn’t ever translate to more practical situations.
-I became him! I am a monster! I can't look at it... I see his smile...-
Carbine flicked his helm over slightly in Windshield's direction with all the movement across the way, flinching right after as he just as quickly snapped his gaze a different direction once more. He couldn't bear to look at the ex-Decepticon head on. It caused him pain to do so. Bolo however did look instead, ear flicking idly while yellow eyes settled upon the other mech with nervous energy.
-I need out! I need to be gone. I need to be far from here, far from HIM!-
Twitched movements, nervous energy, Carbine's rotors flicked and clattered together anxiously as he 'spoke' to Thundercloud, trying to convey everything in any way he could, trying to get his point across well. It was awkward though, wanting to say a thousand things, his mind racing a mile a minute and then some. Crying out for one thing, only to backpedal hard. It was so bad some of what was said almost stuttered, twitching to adjacent words, a tremble raking him before he continued. It was well apparent that he was not doing well.
-I'm him... I'm him... I need... I need out, I need OUT! Thunder please!-
With a violent lurch Carbine's free hand would reel up and slam into the side of Thunder's wrist, white fingertips digging down hard with an almost painful edge. Or more... it would be for many with a functional sense of pain receptors there, the jet was likely able to just feel a profound pressure as the tips of Carbine's plating dug down with stressed rage.
-I NEED TO RUN!-
Wrenching, pulling... he seemed to get a sort of second wind, his right hand that he had been speaking with ripping free to reach up and hook sharply over the armor higher up on Thunder's arm, abruptly cutting off any kind of reply there may have been. With a hefted jerking motion, he would start to pull upright, left leg awkwardly ramming down beneath him, the arching wheel of his heel slipping some in the fuel before finding traction. There was a snarled panicked spat of non-words right after, before whatever second wind he had obtained for a moment already seemed to putter out.
Carbine simply stood, legs crooked in awkward disjointed angles to support his weight, his fingertips goring into blue armor to keep from falling. With a slumped movement his helm looked down to the ground in exhausted shame.
Carbine was content to once more wallow in his own self imposed misery. Mind swimming with rapid thoughts, the lingering emotional roller-coaster giving him whiplash from what he had put himself through. It only took one moment of unhinged abandon, a fleeting speck of time to seek self gratification and revenge he didn't NEED for everything around him to crumble down into a heinous mess of shattered glass. He just wanted it all to be over already, for it to be two days, two weeks, or just straight up two YEARS away from this second when things were undoubtedly different.
As with before, the sound of the Ground Bridge was harrowing to his scrambled psyche. Would it be Optimus this time? Red Alert? What if it was someone else with loose psychological bindings that would make the situation ten times worse somehow if that was even possible? This fear caused him to curl down further against Bolo, the canine's head dipping low as yellow eyes flicked between everyone present before locking onto who it was that exited the Bridge.
Bolo was scared, his body was raked by the emotions of Master, and as such even though it was Thunder coming up towards him at a rapid pace he still stooped down into a partial cower, paws splayed out for support. The panic that had raced through his veins was consuming, overpowering, and for a brief moment he started to crook open his jaw, the gears within straining as he began to pressurize the hydraulic. It would be a sign of 'aggression' that Thunder was very much aware of, before Bolo seemed to know better and shakily close his mouth.
Sensing the shift in Bolo, Carbine dared to open his eyes then, glancing over at ground level to look and see who's feet it was.
Only to see Thunder's peds.
Oh FUCK yes! He could speak! He could talk! The sight of the jet caused a violent wave of both relief and new panic to lance through his chest in a thousand needles. With this surge of energy Carbine sat upright abruptly, letting go of Bolo who didn't move an inch and remained squatted low to the ground in uncomfortable unease. With instant abandon and no care about the fuel splattered across his hand, he would thrust his arm up, fingers splayed, demanding to 'SPEAK' in the only way he could at the moment.
As Thunder got closer, he would be able to notice the abnormalities beyond just Carbine being in a stressed and manic state of mind. The left eye of the ex-Cop appeared to have a short of some kind, the lens crystal or LED or whatever created the color seeming to fracture orange on the bottom half, while the Energon that had been puked up was flooded with oil and rust. The fuel draped down his front before pattering to the ground in a small puddle, but Carbine didn't seem to give it a second look.
He sharply snapped his hand around Thunder's once the mech got in range.
-Look at his face! I did that Thunder! I did that! It was all me!-
Frantic twitched movements, lurching flinches of fingertips... This form of communication was always awkward in a way, requiring a certain level of motor control that Carbine couldn't ordinarily create. Repeated for practice, well learned, he HAD to learn this for his own ability to 'converse', and as such he refined it to a more careful edge that he couldn’t ever translate to more practical situations.
-I became him! I am a monster! I can't look at it... I see his smile...-
Carbine flicked his helm over slightly in Windshield's direction with all the movement across the way, flinching right after as he just as quickly snapped his gaze a different direction once more. He couldn't bear to look at the ex-Decepticon head on. It caused him pain to do so. Bolo however did look instead, ear flicking idly while yellow eyes settled upon the other mech with nervous energy.
-I need out! I need to be gone. I need to be far from here, far from HIM!-
Twitched movements, nervous energy, Carbine's rotors flicked and clattered together anxiously as he 'spoke' to Thundercloud, trying to convey everything in any way he could, trying to get his point across well. It was awkward though, wanting to say a thousand things, his mind racing a mile a minute and then some. Crying out for one thing, only to backpedal hard. It was so bad some of what was said almost stuttered, twitching to adjacent words, a tremble raking him before he continued. It was well apparent that he was not doing well.
-I'm him... I'm him... I need... I need out, I need OUT! Thunder please!-
With a violent lurch Carbine's free hand would reel up and slam into the side of Thunder's wrist, white fingertips digging down hard with an almost painful edge. Or more... it would be for many with a functional sense of pain receptors there, the jet was likely able to just feel a profound pressure as the tips of Carbine's plating dug down with stressed rage.
-I NEED TO RUN!-
Wrenching, pulling... he seemed to get a sort of second wind, his right hand that he had been speaking with ripping free to reach up and hook sharply over the armor higher up on Thunder's arm, abruptly cutting off any kind of reply there may have been. With a hefted jerking motion, he would start to pull upright, left leg awkwardly ramming down beneath him, the arching wheel of his heel slipping some in the fuel before finding traction. There was a snarled panicked spat of non-words right after, before whatever second wind he had obtained for a moment already seemed to putter out.
Carbine simply stood, legs crooked in awkward disjointed angles to support his weight, his fingertips goring into blue armor to keep from falling. With a slumped movement his helm looked down to the ground in exhausted shame.