Ep. 2 - Not(?) In Kansas Anymore
Apr 3, 2015 23:49:50 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2015 23:49:50 GMT -5
Set - Week One Day 5 Some vaguely defined farm state, USA
The wash of exhaust from the retreating merchant vessel was a hot parting; buffeting both against Gypsum’s plating and causing the surrounding foliage to rustle, bend, and sway. The former miner craned his neck to watch the ship retreat back towards space to resume the journey towards the next appointment, his optics tracking the retreating shape through the evening sky until it had become too distant to see.
Officially, he was on his own. More on his own, perhaps, than he had ever found himself before. The sobering realization came while the green mech studied the deepening pinks and purples of the sky, the local sun reddening as it sank towards the horizon. He was on his own, and, for the time being, alone. A flicker of airborne movement disrupted those empty, humbling thoughts and brought his full attention back to the world.
With his gaze pulled away from distant, lazily wandering, orange highlighted clouds, Gypsum found himself tracking a cluster of several small objects flitting by overhead, his head turning slowly to track the flight path. The dozen or so individual shapes, dark silhouettes against the sunset, moved as if a whole, in one direction, then almost arbitrarily twisting about to zip off in another. For a brief moment, he imagined them a gathering of small flying drones, though that association felt incorrect as quickly as he considered it.
The once miner examined the shapes with a finer attention to detail, head slowly tilting back as they cavorted almost directly overhead. The stretch and fold of delicate wings, the dip and rise of little bodies, merry chirps and twitters emanating from the flock as they bustled on by upon whatever business carried them along, and the thrill of realization ran through the mech.
Not drones, but some sort of small, flight-capable, organic creatures. Gypsum caught himself grinning, as he watched them, enjoying the understanding of what he was watching. They were animals, avian creatures, of some measure, wild native lifeforms just existing as they were meant to on this rich organic world. He had seen representatives of a number of organic races on the colony, but never live, wild animals. For that matter, he had only seen a few scant live plants, usually bundled up in fussy sealed terrariums. An entire plant just coated with organics was simply overwhelming.
He tracked shapes of the flock until they vanished against the backdrop of distant foliage. Gypsum had no words for the clusters of organic growth that stood tall against the rest of the terrain, bordering the crests of hills, and appearing in smaller groupings down in the gullies between, but they caught his attention just the same. The bare, rough, bodies topped by poufs of various colored foliage, that seemed to shimmer and waver in the evening breeze drew his optics down from the sky, and towards the rolling hillsides themselves.
The landscape was made up of hilly fields inhabited by meticulously artificial looking rows of growing plant life. Here and there the rows seemed to change direction, were intersected by paths or roadways, or were broken up by wild un-planted patches and groupings of those taller, larger growths. With the sunlight dwindling, Gypsum found his optics tracing absent paths through the rows, as he just took in his surroundings. Everything was so utterly alien, and absolutely marvelous.
A comfortably warm breeze rose over the crest of the hill, tickling against his plating in a softer way than the exhaust from the merchant vessel had. Gypsum found himself powering down his optics and turning his face into the current. The gentle movement of the air was a welcome presence against his face, and with it came various scents that he had not previously noticed.
Mingled in the wind were dozens of different scents, a few nearly familiar but many more that new, exotic, and entirely organic. Sweet floral notes, crisp-smelling vegetation, musky hints of unseen animals, the deeper rich notes under it all, all coming together in the signature of the land around him. So many nuances he had no name or word for, or even understanding of, but he drew them in and inspected each one with curious glee. It smelled, for lack of a better word, alive here. The colony by comparison had smelled mostly of dust, rock, and machinery. Home had smelled alive, but not in the wet, growing way this Earth did.
He shifted his weight; crunch. The sound-feel snapped his attention outward and down, optics focusing on the broken stems around his feet and between his toes. Long, thin, central poles accented by sweeping leaves that terminated in a sharp point, and topped by a soft looking yellow-white tuft. The neatly cultivated rows of the plant were in disarray where his presence had disrupted them, leafy foliage sprawled akimbo, stalks leaning awkwardly against their neighbors.
Fragile, he realized, with dawning concern. This sea of bright, green growth around him was dangerously fragile, and was further damaged with every move of his stocky frame. Each shift brought a new crunch or snap, breaking new stems or further crushing that which was already damaged. This new realization was moderately distressing, as realization sunk in that he would have to do significant damage to a swath of growing, living things just to get himself out of the field.
Speaking of which, it was likely wise to get on that rather than loitering around in a field out in the open like this, no matter the collateral organic carnage. Removing himself from the field was priority one, priority two was finding a local altmode. In not knowing if the locals were Cybertronian-friendly, or even Cybertronian-aware, blending in and laying low until he learned the status quo was probably a wise choice. Sobered by the awareness of how delicate the life around him was, Gypsum looked up and scanned the now near-dark landscape, planning his exit from the field.
There. In the distance, at the far edge of the field a small cluster of buildings had caught the former miner’s attention. At this distance, he could not tell if the shapes represented a residence, business or else wise, but the soft glow of lights at least gave suggestion that the property was not derelict. It was a place to start the altmode hunt, anyway.
Wincing with every crunch of damaged greenery underfoot, and muttering unneeded apologies, Gypsum started towards the buildings. His movements through the field were perhaps comical. Bursts of quick, harried movement interspersed by careful attempts to pick his way between the stalks, as if he could not quite decide which method caused the least damage to the fragile growths. Neither seemed to spare the plant life destined to be in his path any amount of damage, moving carefully just resulted in slower damage, moving quickly just resulted in more bits of plant snagging in his joints.
It was a relief to finally step out of the boundary of the field. Huffing a sigh through his vents, Gypsum shook one foot then the other to dislodge the clinging plant remains, while doing his best to not feel too poorly about the headcount left in his wake. Earth was apparently a particularly fragile planet, it seemed. Putting such thoughts aside, he took a closer look at the property he had come up upon.
He had broken from the field just off the corner of one of the larger buildings on the property. Storage, he presumed, going by the details he could pick out through a partly open doorway. A distance across the yard there seemed to be a main dwelling with several windows lit with warm lights, and there were several other smaller buildings of unknown use set up in the vicinity. From what he could see in the dark, there were also various pieces of machinery looming over the yard, though most of it was too large or too derelict seeming to be of use as an altmode.
His in-depth contemplation of the area came to an abrupt end when from somewhere around his feet came a voluminous “A-woof!”
After enacting reasonable impression of a flight frame, and nearly launching himself back into the field in startlement, Gypsum focused on the low slung, four legged, and droopy eared animal that had materialized in front of him.
“A-woof!” it said once again, insistently, watery eyes studying Gypsum with suspicion.
Shoving away his curiosity in the name of practicality at the moment, Gypsum took that as both a warning and a hint, deciding moving along was the better choice before the loud little beast alerted the owners of the residence to something being amiss. Backing away from the animal, he turned and slunk along behind the tall storage building. The animal followed in his wake, snuffling the impressions of his footprints as he went.
It was a welcome sight when around the far end of the storage building there was parked an old, well-used looking vehicle that at a glance was just about the appropriate size of what he needed. With an open bed, four tires, and shabby paint job that reflected his own, Gypsum deemed the truck ‘good enough’. He did not need a flash or fancy alt, after all, just one that would allow him to blend in. As his heels were being nosily investigated by a determined tag along, Gypsum initiated the process of scanning a new form. The animal barked an opinion of the activity.
With his new alt settling into place, Gypsum was struck with a sense of urgency regarding vacating before he was discovered. More lights had turned on within the residence, and he feared that the noise from the animal had drawn attention. Turning away, he was bid a parting “whuff!” as he transformed on the way to the nearest road. Tires hitting the pavement, the once miner drove off down the deteriorating moonlit lane, fenced in by farm crops on either side. It was only a few short miles later he pulled off the road, coming to rest in a dusty dirt patch just shy of a crossroads.
As the quiet of an alien night settled in around him, and with the sensation of an unfamiliar alt resting on his frame, Gypsum spared some thoughts to contemplate where he was and how he had come to be here. Suddenly, getting dropped off alone, on an unfamiliar world, possibly where the figureheads of the war were still hashing it out, no longer sounded like such a bright idea.
He needed to re-evaluate his recent life choices.
The wash of exhaust from the retreating merchant vessel was a hot parting; buffeting both against Gypsum’s plating and causing the surrounding foliage to rustle, bend, and sway. The former miner craned his neck to watch the ship retreat back towards space to resume the journey towards the next appointment, his optics tracking the retreating shape through the evening sky until it had become too distant to see.
Officially, he was on his own. More on his own, perhaps, than he had ever found himself before. The sobering realization came while the green mech studied the deepening pinks and purples of the sky, the local sun reddening as it sank towards the horizon. He was on his own, and, for the time being, alone. A flicker of airborne movement disrupted those empty, humbling thoughts and brought his full attention back to the world.
With his gaze pulled away from distant, lazily wandering, orange highlighted clouds, Gypsum found himself tracking a cluster of several small objects flitting by overhead, his head turning slowly to track the flight path. The dozen or so individual shapes, dark silhouettes against the sunset, moved as if a whole, in one direction, then almost arbitrarily twisting about to zip off in another. For a brief moment, he imagined them a gathering of small flying drones, though that association felt incorrect as quickly as he considered it.
The once miner examined the shapes with a finer attention to detail, head slowly tilting back as they cavorted almost directly overhead. The stretch and fold of delicate wings, the dip and rise of little bodies, merry chirps and twitters emanating from the flock as they bustled on by upon whatever business carried them along, and the thrill of realization ran through the mech.
Not drones, but some sort of small, flight-capable, organic creatures. Gypsum caught himself grinning, as he watched them, enjoying the understanding of what he was watching. They were animals, avian creatures, of some measure, wild native lifeforms just existing as they were meant to on this rich organic world. He had seen representatives of a number of organic races on the colony, but never live, wild animals. For that matter, he had only seen a few scant live plants, usually bundled up in fussy sealed terrariums. An entire plant just coated with organics was simply overwhelming.
He tracked shapes of the flock until they vanished against the backdrop of distant foliage. Gypsum had no words for the clusters of organic growth that stood tall against the rest of the terrain, bordering the crests of hills, and appearing in smaller groupings down in the gullies between, but they caught his attention just the same. The bare, rough, bodies topped by poufs of various colored foliage, that seemed to shimmer and waver in the evening breeze drew his optics down from the sky, and towards the rolling hillsides themselves.
The landscape was made up of hilly fields inhabited by meticulously artificial looking rows of growing plant life. Here and there the rows seemed to change direction, were intersected by paths or roadways, or were broken up by wild un-planted patches and groupings of those taller, larger growths. With the sunlight dwindling, Gypsum found his optics tracing absent paths through the rows, as he just took in his surroundings. Everything was so utterly alien, and absolutely marvelous.
A comfortably warm breeze rose over the crest of the hill, tickling against his plating in a softer way than the exhaust from the merchant vessel had. Gypsum found himself powering down his optics and turning his face into the current. The gentle movement of the air was a welcome presence against his face, and with it came various scents that he had not previously noticed.
Mingled in the wind were dozens of different scents, a few nearly familiar but many more that new, exotic, and entirely organic. Sweet floral notes, crisp-smelling vegetation, musky hints of unseen animals, the deeper rich notes under it all, all coming together in the signature of the land around him. So many nuances he had no name or word for, or even understanding of, but he drew them in and inspected each one with curious glee. It smelled, for lack of a better word, alive here. The colony by comparison had smelled mostly of dust, rock, and machinery. Home had smelled alive, but not in the wet, growing way this Earth did.
He shifted his weight; crunch. The sound-feel snapped his attention outward and down, optics focusing on the broken stems around his feet and between his toes. Long, thin, central poles accented by sweeping leaves that terminated in a sharp point, and topped by a soft looking yellow-white tuft. The neatly cultivated rows of the plant were in disarray where his presence had disrupted them, leafy foliage sprawled akimbo, stalks leaning awkwardly against their neighbors.
Fragile, he realized, with dawning concern. This sea of bright, green growth around him was dangerously fragile, and was further damaged with every move of his stocky frame. Each shift brought a new crunch or snap, breaking new stems or further crushing that which was already damaged. This new realization was moderately distressing, as realization sunk in that he would have to do significant damage to a swath of growing, living things just to get himself out of the field.
Speaking of which, it was likely wise to get on that rather than loitering around in a field out in the open like this, no matter the collateral organic carnage. Removing himself from the field was priority one, priority two was finding a local altmode. In not knowing if the locals were Cybertronian-friendly, or even Cybertronian-aware, blending in and laying low until he learned the status quo was probably a wise choice. Sobered by the awareness of how delicate the life around him was, Gypsum looked up and scanned the now near-dark landscape, planning his exit from the field.
There. In the distance, at the far edge of the field a small cluster of buildings had caught the former miner’s attention. At this distance, he could not tell if the shapes represented a residence, business or else wise, but the soft glow of lights at least gave suggestion that the property was not derelict. It was a place to start the altmode hunt, anyway.
Wincing with every crunch of damaged greenery underfoot, and muttering unneeded apologies, Gypsum started towards the buildings. His movements through the field were perhaps comical. Bursts of quick, harried movement interspersed by careful attempts to pick his way between the stalks, as if he could not quite decide which method caused the least damage to the fragile growths. Neither seemed to spare the plant life destined to be in his path any amount of damage, moving carefully just resulted in slower damage, moving quickly just resulted in more bits of plant snagging in his joints.
It was a relief to finally step out of the boundary of the field. Huffing a sigh through his vents, Gypsum shook one foot then the other to dislodge the clinging plant remains, while doing his best to not feel too poorly about the headcount left in his wake. Earth was apparently a particularly fragile planet, it seemed. Putting such thoughts aside, he took a closer look at the property he had come up upon.
He had broken from the field just off the corner of one of the larger buildings on the property. Storage, he presumed, going by the details he could pick out through a partly open doorway. A distance across the yard there seemed to be a main dwelling with several windows lit with warm lights, and there were several other smaller buildings of unknown use set up in the vicinity. From what he could see in the dark, there were also various pieces of machinery looming over the yard, though most of it was too large or too derelict seeming to be of use as an altmode.
His in-depth contemplation of the area came to an abrupt end when from somewhere around his feet came a voluminous “A-woof!”
After enacting reasonable impression of a flight frame, and nearly launching himself back into the field in startlement, Gypsum focused on the low slung, four legged, and droopy eared animal that had materialized in front of him.
“A-woof!” it said once again, insistently, watery eyes studying Gypsum with suspicion.
Shoving away his curiosity in the name of practicality at the moment, Gypsum took that as both a warning and a hint, deciding moving along was the better choice before the loud little beast alerted the owners of the residence to something being amiss. Backing away from the animal, he turned and slunk along behind the tall storage building. The animal followed in his wake, snuffling the impressions of his footprints as he went.
It was a welcome sight when around the far end of the storage building there was parked an old, well-used looking vehicle that at a glance was just about the appropriate size of what he needed. With an open bed, four tires, and shabby paint job that reflected his own, Gypsum deemed the truck ‘good enough’. He did not need a flash or fancy alt, after all, just one that would allow him to blend in. As his heels were being nosily investigated by a determined tag along, Gypsum initiated the process of scanning a new form. The animal barked an opinion of the activity.
With his new alt settling into place, Gypsum was struck with a sense of urgency regarding vacating before he was discovered. More lights had turned on within the residence, and he feared that the noise from the animal had drawn attention. Turning away, he was bid a parting “whuff!” as he transformed on the way to the nearest road. Tires hitting the pavement, the once miner drove off down the deteriorating moonlit lane, fenced in by farm crops on either side. It was only a few short miles later he pulled off the road, coming to rest in a dusty dirt patch just shy of a crossroads.
As the quiet of an alien night settled in around him, and with the sensation of an unfamiliar alt resting on his frame, Gypsum spared some thoughts to contemplate where he was and how he had come to be here. Suddenly, getting dropped off alone, on an unfamiliar world, possibly where the figureheads of the war were still hashing it out, no longer sounded like such a bright idea.
He needed to re-evaluate his recent life choices.