We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
She didn't even hesitate to take his arm. Next slip up and she was taking the dude down with her on principle. This tripping over rocks was getting entirely too old for her. This fragging planet!
"Ha. If I wasn't useful at times, Shockwave wouldn't keep me around. I like to think I can add something to a conversation. Or derail it completely with trivial bits. Not too shabby for a turborat who used to run dice games in a slum." Though her words were harsh, she didn't find her past awful. Truth told, compared to how her future was shaping up, she missed those simpler days. The only things she worried about then was keeping her sister focused and keeping fuel in their tanks. Now it seemed like everything was growing more and more complicated as the universe expanded but her world grew smaller.
"I miss those days...probably shouldn't, but I do. I was nobody than. I'd love to go back to that," she murmured, voice tinging on wistful. She was reminded of a human poet she actually liked. Figures she'd go for the tragic shut-in. But the poem reminded her of her sister. Forcing some cheer into her voice, she quoted the poem for Pryotech's sake.
"I'm a Nobody. Who are you? Are you-Nobody-too? Then there's a pair of us. Don't tell, they advertise-you know. How dreary-to be somebody. How public like a frog. To tell one's name the livelong June. To an admiring Bog."
Gently, Pyrotech slid his palm under Roulette's forearm. His doors swung slightly back as he shifted his weight to brace her. He eyed his own fingers curling around her slender limb, but then he stopped closing down, as if he realized how improper she might find that situation.
Instead he simply let her catch her footing, waited for her to stand back up. "Really?" he echoed, with a faint frown. "I wouldn't have ever suspected that of you. Running dice games in a slum? If you're serious- ah you are serious. I don't know, it's rather impressive, all things considered."
"Ah, that you're not dead," Pyrotech continued. "That said, of course you are useful. Otherwise you wouldn't have survived this far. Decepticons don't keep useless things in the ranks, you know that."
It wasn't a chide. Nor was it any sort of veiled insult to the femme next to him. It was merely an observation, one that this mech knew well. He'd dealt with many of those sorts through the years; those that were more problem than they were worth, for whatever reason.
"They get rid of them quickly," he murmured. "Dead weight. No sense in those sort of issues causing problems among the ranks, when you need them not to."
Then he shook his head. "You probably weren't a nobody then," he told her, his cultured voice soft and smooth. His accent rolled thick across each word. "You were simply in a place where at the time, you were comfortable with yourself and those around you. In your element, where you felt secure in your knowledge and your life. It makes a difference, and certainly you're allowed to miss those days."
"Familiar places hold a lot of your secrets," he explained, ambling quietly along next to her, guiding her carefully through the rocky ground. Dust trailed behind their footsteps. There was the sharp smell of broken sage branches in the air. A tiny quail ducked out from under a clump of grass and skittered in front of them, whistling wildly to itself before it disappeared in the rocks. "And it can be difficult to leave them behind."
Then he looked down at Roulette, his browplates drawing together in puzzlement. "I've never heard that before. What is it? A song?"
Last Edit: May 17, 2015 23:38:57 GMT -5 by Pyrotech
She vented a sigh. It was true. Wastefulness wasn't tolerated in the Con ranks. One either had to have a certain skill and be downright exceptional at it, lucky, or fill a niche. She wasn't exactly sure what she did. Shockwave found her useful and not everyone could work for the scientist. So maybe it was a skill of some type? She'd seen him go through many, many, many proxies. The fact that she was still around should mean something.
Some cycles she just felt it meant she was incredibly unlucky.
"I guess so. The world was so much smaller when it consisted of the bar, Kaon, and my-" she stopped herself from saying sister. "...my job. So much simpler." It hand't been easy or fun. It had just been something familiar and routine. But that had been so long ago, she wasn't even sure she remembered the details right anymore. Had she actually been happy or was she just telling herself that?
Face twitching into a partial grimace she turned her attention outward. To the bird startled in front of them and her hand on his arm. Wait, was she seriously still holding onto him? How long had she been doing that? She tugged her hand away like she'd wrapped her fingers around a hot iron, field spiking in embarrassment.
Pay attention, moron!
Trying to recover from her faux pa, and not have him believe she was repulsed by his presence, she looked about for an excuse to step away. It also gave her time to debate her answer to his question. Not every con was intrigued by human culture. He might do that thing that the higher ranking officers did at the answer.
In the path, a discarded quail feather was within reach. She stooped over to carefully pick it up, mildly amused by the coloring of the delicate bit of fluff. She'd add it to her collection in the lab.
"Ahm, that was a human poem. I sort of...enjoy her work." She wasn't going to specify just how much she responded and related to the works of the human poet. Enough to memorize long stanzas.
"It seems smaller when you focus directly around you," Pyrotech offered. "It's often daunting when you find yourself tossed into a situation that you have no control over, even if it's the day to day things you used to have. Or just the streets you follow on the way to work and back. It's understandable."
Empathy brushed across the tone of his comment as he glanced down at the careful curl of fingers against his plating. Roulette's fingers were warm on his arm. Metal touched lightly; the mech kept his elbow out like he was escorting her out of one of those parties at the Towers; a grand gala of light and color and elegance, where mechs sipped high-grade out of crystal glasses and discussed politics, friends, and their work.
He was comfortable with it there. It was rather nice, actually, a break from this outpost in the filth and grime of Earth. That was one thing he missed about Australia; they'd been mostly in the cities for a lot of their work that needed to be done. He preferred pavement to rutted mud and dirt back-roads.
If he felt her sudden flicker and spike of emotion, he politely chose to not mention it. His own field was perfectly level, calm and pleasant.
Pyrotech didn't try to snatch her arm back, or hold onto her. The mech held still as she regained that bubble between them and went to step away from him. Once she had moved away, he continued on at that pace, guiding her quietly through the rough terrain. At her gathering of the feather, he eyed her with a bemused expression. The door behind his left shoulder flicked back and forth in a cat-like twitch.
"I'm afraid I haven't listened to much human anything besides the news stations," the red mech admitted to Roulette with a small shrug. "I had no idea they even did poetry, I really don't bother with the local fauna. It's been a long time since I heard any of any sort. Is there more you know, or is that all of it?"
Fishing in a recessed pocket of subspace, Roulette found an empty vial and slid the feather into the small tube. All while keeping some modicum of attention on Pyro out of respect. That and she didn't think it'd make for decent negotiating skills to get distracted and just drop someone mid conversation. Though the proxy who had trained her so long ago had been known for such lack of attention.
"Ew, you listen to the news? Just how much do you hate yourself?" She playfully grimaced as she fell into step beside him. This time at a comfortable arm's length away. Her attention trailed down his frame to the ground below. She was determined to keep from stumbling or making a mess of herself once more.
"Local fauna and flora is my bread and butter. Alien culture is fascinating. Makes the planet almost seem worthwhile sometimes." Almost. For every neat thing she discovered, she found the weather doing something equally horrifying in counter balance. "I think I have-here, hold on a click." She reached into a recessed pocket and pulled out a smaller, battered datapad that had seen better days. She'd had the thing since she could remember. With only a lingering bit of reserve, she held out the item to him.
"Here, take it for awhile. It has most of the poetry I like. And some stories. But mostly poems. You might like them."
The tiny feather was lovely. Shades of grey and white, delicate edges and touches of brown. So delicate it slid away from her a few times before she bottled it.
Pyrotech listened as they strode along, and then he chuckled.
"I rather like myself," he told her, and flashed Roulette a smile. It was obvious he was teasing, mostly himself more than her. "But yes, it's the most boring drivel that could possibly happen on this planet. If I have to hear one more story about how some small mammal got itself caught in a tree, I'll go and cheerfully burn down all the ones in the suburbs."
Their feet puffed up dust behind them that quickly settled back to the earth. There was a slight stirring in his field; brief amusement, a whisper of laughter. Trees weren't high on his list of things that made things easy here on Earth. If he'd had his way he'd simply pave the place.
"Hmm," he replied. "I believe I am missing your particular set of views on the planet. Is that why you now stand as Shockwave's proxy? Is it because of your interest in cultural details? I could see that, actually. Personally, the only thing I like about this planet is some of the architecture - ah minimal amounts - and the amount of resources it contains."
A pause. "Oh, and some of the bridges," he admitted with a speculative air. "I can say I've grown very fond of some the bridges here on Earth. Ah, wait, what is--?"
The red mech paused in mid-stride and reached for the datapad. "It has poetry on it that you like? Stories?" he echoed. His doors flicked slightly.
"I've not read poetry since - well, it's been a long, long time. Actually, I would love to borrow that, if I may," he agreed. He carefully plucked the old battered datapad out of Roulette's fingers and looked at it. "Ah, well, I need some better reading material here, and this sounds like a good way to put aside work. Also..."
"Now, I think that I should say that I have an ulterior motive," Pyrotech admitted.
"As in, if you let me borrow something that's old and obviously yours- we will need to find some time together so that I can return it to you...?
Last Edit: Jun 4, 2015 20:51:55 GMT -5 by Pyrotech
She was fairly certain he was serious about burning down a suburb, but the joke still made her snicker. Out of curiosity she'd tried listening the human news medias once. She'd definitely formed a lesser opinion of the local wildlife in the span of a few minutes. They were obsessed over really stupid, slagging minutia.
The topic of Shockwave gave her a contorted face of disgust for a very quick moment. The facial tic was there and gone between one step and the next. Everything always came back to that slagging mech. She wasn't entirely sure she'd ever be rid of him. That was a thought that had kept her awake during recharge cycles before.
"No. Well, yeah, and no. I'm like this because of him. He has that way of influencing," she added in a very dry tone. She left that topic at the very cryptic but no less decent explanation. Less things said about the scientist was always for the best.
"Wait..you like bridges? That's no..." she wanted to say cute but didn't dare. Mostly because, it really was such a innocent thing to enjoy especially for a Con. Yes, the propaganda was wrong about a lot of them. But then, at times, the propaganda was very correct about the average Con. Her fellow brethren could be just as simple and cruel as they wanted to be. Apparently not Pyrotech. "-ok, it's cute. Don't get all offended over there."
She actually smiled at him after him took the datapad. Just a small, simple smile that turned the corners of one mouth up. Until he employed what was possibly the smoothest move she'd ever been engaged with. Her features froze and she just stared at him with slightly wider optics. Had he just...?
"You...want to spend time. With me?" The thought was as alien as they were. Nobody wanted to spend time with her! She was a colossal pain in the aft! The only one who needed her company was Shockwave and she was fairly certain he had a unhealthy addiction on her help. "...why?"
The minute the words left her vox she realized perhaps she shouldn't have asked that. Mostly because she was forcing a lot of awkward into the conversation and it had been going so well. Which, in general, was her specialty. Which still begged the question of why he wanted to spend time with her.
"Ah, I'm sorry. Forget I asked that. I'm-" She paused, frowning at herself and looking away with a disbelieving chuckle. "I spend too much time in the lab. So my communication skills are atrophied."
"You think liking bridges is cute?" he laughed incredulously. For the first time there was an unsure note to the mech's voice. "I am not taking offense, not at all. Architecture isn't something most have any interest in. It is not a flashy bit of work, not really the life-fuel of the Decepticon cause."
Pyrotech's fingers curled gently around the edge of the data pad she'd given to him. He was holding it carefully, as if he was concerned that might accidentally drop it, or do something to damage it. His thumb gently rubbed over the worn edge. There was a contemplative, wistful look in his optics. No. Not much interest in architecture, but he'd gotten used to that.
Behind his shoulders, his doors were completely still. His field had a touch to it; a sneaking whisper of delight.
It tucked itself away quickly, just as Pyrotech opened a compartment in his chest and did the same to the datapad. He dusted off his fingers, returning her smile. He ducked his helm slightly, his concern rising for a moment that he'd been too forward, that Roulette might simply laugh off his suggestion. That she'd only truly let him borrow the datapad to read Earth poetry, which -well, if he had to be compltely honest, he hoped that there was some Cybertronian poetry she liked as well. He didn't mind poetry, but the idea of reading volumes written by humans...
You're getting desperate. Watch yourself now.
Her question made the mech pause in mid-step. Then he stopped and shook his head.
"No, no," he replied. "No, you likely have a good reason to ask that, based off of what you've mentioned so far."
He was careful not to bring up Shockwave again. Pyrotech had easily caught those undertones throughout their conversation and right now the curl of her lip confirmed it. Roulette did not like spending time around the scientist. Whatever he did or did not do, she simply didn't enjoy his command. Fair enough. It happened. He doubted most of his crew would ever present him with a favorite commander award.
"Why? Well, for starters you're intelligent. You're a good conversationalist. I'm enjoying your company. I've been caught up in work for so long and dealing with... ah, rather disfunctional crew, that this has been the most pleasant afternoon I've had in a while."
He eyed the barren, dry outcroppings around them.
"I actually forgot about where I'm stationed," he mentioned with a chuckle, settling his hands on his hips. The bright sun overhead gleamed off their chrome; his red paint had a metallic undertone that gave it depth without being overwhelming. "That should tell you how sincere I am, I hope."
"So yes. I would love to spend time with you, if that's at all possible," he said formally. "I understand, you are no doubt busy. But... perhaps sometime?"
She was telling herself this but was having trouble filtering in the words and understanding them. The only one who had ever liked her was her sister. And she was fairly certain that was because they were created together and therefore, couldn't have been separated easily. Maybe the mech really was that bored.
No, stop that. He's not putting on an act. He likes you. There is nothing wrong with you, kid. Except for that tendency to run your mouth off and get yourself into trouble. Just a little.
Clasping her hands in front of herself, she shrugged and kept her gaze forward. If she looked at him now, she was going to start staring and ruin any level thoughts she'd just had. And spending time with him wouldn't be bad. She sort of liked the idea of having an escape from the labs that wasn't the DMZ. Here, she could legitimately find an excuse to venture out.
If she was honest with herself, she'd say she needed it. Not only did she spend far too much time in the labs, but she was wary of going out since the attack. Realistically she knew that she wasn't going to be jumped by MECH again but...there was always the nagging fear of them finishing what they'd started. After all...she was on the same ship as Starscream and she'd never gotten one clue to that plot.
That whole threat was still there, just lingering like an open wound...
"Alright. I like this idea. Beats spending my time tracking down spare sensors."
Pyrotech stood quietly. The only outward sign that he was the least bit concerned that she might consider his comment laughable was a tiny lift of the chrome ladder behind his shoulder. Other than that he was perfectly composed. He'd had practice over time - there were so many situations he'd found himself in with those that considered themselves his betters. Both mech and femme for that matter. The mechs tended to try and intimidate you.
The femmes simply eyed you with disdain and flounced off. As if they couldn't believe you'd dared even to say it.
Not that Roulette seemed to be the sort to flounce. He hadn't gotten that feeling from her at all. Sheltered by the situation she was in and the mech she worked for a little. She was an intriguing mixture of brash about some things and shy about others - well, at least what he'd observed with her so far.
Ah, first impressions... always interesting to go back and look on later.
At her response though, Pyrotech laughed. His tone was warm though, and he visibly relaxed.
"Good. I'll try to make sure that it is better than that," he agreed. He shifted his weight over his left foot and looked thoughtful. "Do you have a private comm line? Or is it easier to contact you by message? You're no doubt far busier than I am lately, and have a lot less time available to yourself."
The problem with receiving a message from anyone was that Shockwave tended to clog up her in box with random queries that were always pertinent to him. Only senior staff got to hit the top of her in pile and she rarely, if ever, received messages when someone could always just track her down.
"I'd say send me a formal message but I'd never get it. Let's stick with something more private. I doubt you want the science nerd line." She chuckled and reached for the datapad again. "Here, let me add the comm line and my pseudo schedule. Don't get too used to the rotation, however. I'm rarely in the same place twice. Forever at the whim of Shockwave's mercies."
If he were to surrender the datapad back to her, she would easily add the information on a note option at the very front of the prompts. Easy to find and hard to miss. She thoroughly resisted the urge to add in an emoticon face or something as silly. Handing the tablet back to him was just slightly more awkward than before. She couldn't say for sure why.
"Just send me a query and I will likely answer it if I'm not caught up in something." She resisted the urge to shuffle and cleared her vox before turning her attention back ahead of her.
"I agree," Pyrotech said. He carefully handed the data pad back to her, as if he was a bit loathe to let it out of his grasp, as if he half expected it to be snatched away and not returned. "Private is fine. I tend to prefer privacy anyway, if I had to be honest."
He did. There were things he appreciated about having a good solid crew (not that it had happened for a while) but he truly liked time to himself. He preferred places like cities, where he could cruise quietly up and down the streets. The humans got out of his way. Even when traffic was poor, often all he had to do was flash his headlights once or twice and they pulled aside to let him pass.
As they well should have, of course.
When she handed back the tablet, he took it from her once again. There was a tiny touch of his field, something he seemed unable to hide or smooth. It held a bit of surprise, as if he couldn't believe it she had handed it back so promptly or so willingly.
"Of course. I don't expect you to answer instantly. I think the thing to do is work around your schedule. Mine is fairly open, but that's because I'm in charge of making it. You have more things to attend do no doubt than I."
He lifted his hand to indicate the Oregon desert around them. It was... pretty flat.
Also, it had rocks, but Roulette already knew that for herself.
The mech's accent stumbled a bit over his response, as if he'd been meaning to say something else but thought better of it. Then he inclined his head.
"A query it is then. Ah, may I tuck this away?" he asked, gesturing to the datapad, and then eyed how far they'd walked. "We're nearly to the road. I assume that you are comfortable heading back to where the groundbridge dropped you off on your own?"
Last Edit: Jun 17, 2015 20:39:16 GMT -5 by Pyrotech
Roulette's expression softened just a touch at the jump in his field. Pyrotech was...not really like the rest of the assholes on the ship she was forced to work with. Unfortunately, Roulette didn't really know that many on the ship. Shockwave didn't count. He didn't have a personality. Flatline didn't count because he was a pill. The Eradicons counted but they tended to be so weirdly diverse and strange even in comparison to her.
Must be the manners thing... Actual manners, and not the backhanded kind that usually thinly concealed a barb, were hard to come by on the ship. That he was making an effort to be nice to her was pleasant. And weird. She didn't know what to do with herself now. Better to return to the ship and shove the foreign feelings away into a corner of her mind she didn't have to think about any time soon.
Looking over the bare (boring, ugly, flat, terrible) landscape, Roulette fought to keep her mouth from twitching. Of course she could handle this part of the trip by herself. But the lingering awareness was just...there. She hated feeling twitchy about being alone on the planet surface and fearing attack. It was stupid and irrational and there on her mind like a freaking virus.
"Yeah. I got this. You should probably get back. When the boss is away, the Cons generally get into all kinds of trouble." She chuckled and partially turned away from him. Mostly to hide her own unease that lingered like a shadow around her.
"Thank you," Pyrotech replied, and did just that. The datapad was gone now, secure and safe, so that it would not get damaged.
He hesitated though as Roulette looked out over the distance. Something about her tone and turn-away gesture caused a bit of concern to pass over his features. Then he suddenly strode forward and past her. His toes touched the flat edge where the landscape shifted to reveal that rocky, dirt road not far in the distance.
"They know better then to cause trouble," he murmured. "I have time, I can escort you back. I would honestly feel better about it, actually. Not that I expect anyone out here, but you never know."
With that, the sleek mech transformed. The emergency vehicle gleamed bright in the sun. He shifted on his tires, the soft rasp of his plating settling into place echoing softly between them, far louder than the near-silent sound of his engine. A mirror tilted back, reflecting Roulette in it.
You shouldn't rely on him. You don't need him. You're fine on your own.
And she didn't. But, she wouldn't admit it out loud, his insistent offer relieved her in more ways than one. For so long she'd kept to the same rut of solitude. She hadn't had anyone at her back and she hadn't looked for anyone to watch over her. The mantle of solitude was comfortable and well worn. She wasn't sure if she was ready to part with that just yet.
Watching him, she hid a brief smile behind one hand. His alt wasn't what she had expected and the word "cute" came to mind once more. But she didn't say it aloud. Twice in one evening would just be insulting, especially to an officer. But the little ladder was just too much. She waited until the gesture was gone from her mouth before she dropped her hand and nodded at him.
"Thank you." With a last look around, as much for her own peace of mind, she did her own twisted puzzle dance down into the small, stylized form of the shelby. The belly of the frame barely touched the dead grass and had better clearance over the rocks than most. But there was no avoiding the dust. With a flick of her headlights at him, she followed him out to the designated pick up zone without another word.