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.
Roulette got her seatbelts nibbled for the suggestion of desk ravishings. And most certainly, if the femme chose to participate in such debauchery, there would be a swan sitting plainly at the end of the desk, watching judgmentally with her dull, little red optics.
Airlia was under no illusions about Roulette’s ‘delicate nature’. But someone had to make sure that unscrupulous mechs didn’t take advantage, and wouldn’t get any ideas about taking liberties with her Master. Just because Roulette didn’t value herself as highly as she should was no reason to allow anyone to get close enough to potentially cause harm.
There’s a decent chance that Roulette hit the brakes that hard on purpose, though with the state of the road that was debatable. Airlia was no stranger to being chastised for her reluctance to believe the best in anyone interested in her Master. For all she had not been reunited with Roulette long, she remembered, back before the War. Neither sister had wanted to admit that the grabby hands of mechs and femmes alike were simply inappropriate, and must be bitten for their presumptions.
“Statement: Roulette prefers the desk to the floor.” Or occasionally the berth, if she recalled correctly.
Roulette crossed the rest of the distance in a small bit of silence. Just taking in the pleasantness the situation granted her. She felt...well, relaxed. For the first time in several cycles. Sure, the land was hideous. The insects out here could carry off smaller mechs, and she was fairly certain life on the ship was just going to slide into something more complicated. But for now, it was nice to just feel the sun warm her plating and to finally cross the last rut that scraped the under panel of her frame.
Ow.
Parking nearly parallel with Pyro, she let the supply train of drones catch up. It was quite funny watching them navigate while trying not to spill their cargo. They weren't exactly delicate creatures when it came to manual labor. Some, however, were shaping up to be quite skilled. The more aware ones had vast potential to learn quickly.
She'd let Airlia get a good look at the mech from the safety of her own frame. She had no doubt the swan could watch for herself but there was a certain amount of...something, that Roulette felt at the thought of subjecting the cassette to anything. The fussy bird didn't need to suffer, even if mildly, for one moment. Even if it was just insecurity over one mech.
That was Roulette's job.
::Pyro, this is Airlia. Airlia...:: She didn't have to say the warning as it was in the careful way she sounded out the cassette's name. It was hard to tell what the cassette would say on any given day. Sometimes the git could pop out something salacious when the femme wasn't expecting it. At least, she had been back in the...better part of her Roulette's life.
It's like I'm meeting a stranger some days. Who are you now, Airlia?
Pyrotech watched as Roulette navigated the last bit of rough terrain. Carefully, he settled his hands on his narrow hips; dark fingers curling over equally dark plating. He almost suggested the femme transform, but then realized rather quickly that there had to be a reason she hadn't yet. If it had been one of his crew, he might have berated them for any intrusion on the landscape like this. They knew; you got so far and you went to foot, because it was much harder to track a mech on foot than wheels through this landscape.
Unlike where they'd been stationed recently, it was delicate. If it rained, the water didn't seep easily into the landscape. It rushed down the culverts and areas, foaming and snapping at the soil. Most of it was hardpan or stone with just the barest coating of dirt over the top. It didn't repair itself quickly or well; when the animals grazed on it for long periods of time, it would become a worn-out dust bowl.
Regardless, he didn't press the issue, or even bring it up. This was Roulette, and he was absolutely polite. It wasn't often he got interesting company out here, and the fact that she was the one coming here thrilled him beyond measure. Even if if was something as basic as delivering supplies, it was more consideration than he'd had in years. The architect appreciated that; and he knew full well she could have assigned it to someone else.
He took a polite step aside as she parked, giving her full room to transform whenever she saw fit.
As Roulette introduced them, the mech glanced down through the back window of the car. For some reason, he'd been expecting something different perhaps; some of other sort of creature. Roulette seemed the sort to prefer something a bit more subtle than what he could see. Long pinions; at least he thought they looked like pinions. He wasn't sure, it wasn't the best angle to try and get a glimpse of the cassette.
When she addressed her passenger and introduced them, Pyrotech lifted a browplate ever so slightly. Well then. This was not a drone cassette, something with simple thoughts that barely stirred in it. No, this was an intelligent Cybertronian. Not a pet or a plaything for Roulette.
That changed things even more as to why she'd chosen to become a carrier. He had no doubt it would be an interesting story. Also, it changed a few other things, but those were best kept to his own thoughts no doubt.
"Pyrotech," he replied aloud as Roulette's greeting prompt drifted between them.
Then the gleaming red mech swept into a quick bow. It was directed entirely towards the passenger within, a formal pleasantry of times long past. His doors flicked back, the cannon on his shoulder was careful to point far away from both of them. Then he smoothly settled back upright. Crimson optics shone under the brim of his helm.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Airlia," he said to her. "I hope the trip was not too difficult?"
Last Edit: Feb 20, 2016 19:14:24 GMT -5 by Pyrotech
It’d been an awkward sort of balance between herself and Roulette since their reunion, both unwilling to allow the other to come to harm, though their definitions of harm varied greatly. Clearly traversing the terrain would have been easier had the femme chosen to walk, but instead she gave Airlia a ride, sparing the avian cassette a long walk in dust and grime on rather short legs. If docking is a non-option, and at this time it wasn’t, they would have to work on some form of backpacking to allow for better mobility.
She took the offered moment to observe the mech from the safe confines of Roulette’s cab, but this mission could not proceed without proper introductions, nor could she really appraise this Pyrotech in such a limited manner. She’s going to have to sacrifice a sliver of her dignity in order to do so, but Roulette was worth such trials. Usually. Sometimes the femme could be an aft, and devoted cassette or not she can recognize that in the privacy of her own processor.
She was reasonably enough impressed with the formality Pyrotech exchanged his introduction with, which made the lack of poise she would need exhibit slightly more galling, but unavoidable. Crawling into Roulette’s cab had been awkward enough, but with her wings pinned to her sides by the lack of space all she can do while exiting is to scoot herself forward out the femme’s passenger door, and land heavily on her keel in the loose dirt. Her glossy black paintjob did nothing at all to obscure her new layer of dust, and as soon as possible she is going to requisition some manner of bathing receptacle to get properly clean. Of course of all the planets she scoured in her long search for Roulette she had to locate her on one this.. unclean.
Still, for how awkward her exit surely looked, nevermind the actual getting her legs under herself to stand up properly, Airlia gives no sign that she is in any way discomfited. She determined what was classy, and all the lowly peons must bend to her definitions. To do otherwise would be unspeakably crass.
Small, dull red optics pointedly appraised the mech, the cassette taking a very long moment with which to come to her first impressions. Not out of slowness of thought, but a very thorough and Towers-esque cataloging of Pyro’s frame and mien. She was still not convinced that he’s any good for her master to linger about. He would need to prove himself slightly above the common handsy and therefore bite-able mech.
In the end, she settled for a polite bob of her head on its long, sinuous neck, resettling her wings neatly. “Difficulty: minimal. Earth: unsuited for terrestrial locomotion.” There was no point in pretending that the drive up had been fun, but that didn’t mean it had been difficult. After all, she wasn’t the one with new scrapes up and down her undercarriage.
While the two were sizing each other up, Roulette was gaining her feet and grimacing at her paint job. Gouged again! Unlike some mechs, she was unable to keep the paint from chips or scratches that ended up dropping that lofty ideal of status right out of her. She had a working frame and would never pass for a tower born. All the better for it, really. She didn't have the build for such polished perfection. New paint on her always looked more cringe inducing than impressive.
The dust was already sticking to the slick surface of their armor and Roulette could already feel the calculated plans running through the cassette's head on how to get clean. That did bring to mind an idea of a sort of...bird bath for their shared room. She could probably get something built that the swan could use to dip in and clean off. Saving the sharpshooter from having to buff the spoiled creature every time she turned around. There was bonding over a buffing and then there was over indulging.
"Oh good. You're both getting along perfectly." She cringed and looked over her shoulder at the scrape of another undercarriage. The drones had just now caught up them and had to suffer through their own gauntlet of scraped frames. They were loaded down with actual supplies for the base so their frames sat low enough to make Roulette ache in actual sympathy for them. Perhaps it would have been better to just drive through the land and forget the road....Oh well!
She flicked her gaze over to Pyro and found herself giving up the battle to a small grin. The mech was...well, he was nice. And made her feel comfortable and calm in spite of being in such a hostile-at-times planet.
Of all the things Pyrotech had been expecting to emerge out of Roulette's cabin, a large flighted waterfowl was not one of them. Honestly, when Roulette had said that she had become a carrier, he'd rather had a perfectly pleasant image in his mind. Some sleek little creature she could tuck around her neck like a stole; maybe an elegant, cat-like beast. Decoration as well as a partnership.
Not the cybernetic long-necked bird who now planted her feet in the dry dirt and eyed him up and down. Pyrotech was not a mech who was afraid of much; in fact, he was rather confident in his own capabilities.
Roulette's partner gave him a bit of pause. He eyed how high that neck stretched, and those wide battering wings, but didn't ease himself out of her range. Instead, he stood there and watched as her long neck turning from side to side, the flattened feathers and slightly open bill.
So not a dainty little animal companion. Elegant, yes, sleek and black, carrying herself with as much dignity as she could manage on this hostile environment.
When she addressed him personally though, in that stilted voice, Pyrotech was once again a bit surprised. His doors flicked back, but then quickly resettled.
"Ah," he replied, as he nodded at the swan. "Agreed. Earth is not the easiest place to travel on. You will get used to it in time, but it will always be rather unpleasant and filthy. No change on that."
At Roulette's comment, the red mech chuckled softly, turning back to her. At her grin, he smiled a little private moment between them, shared, quiet amusement of the situation.
"Well, she seems quite sensible," he offered. "Why don't we all go inside where it's far more comfortable, and get these supplies into some semblance of order? After that-- do you have some time for conversation, or do you unfortunately need to report immediately back to Commander Shockwave?"
Unfortunately or not, the War had seen to it that most delicate and particularly small cassettes ended up dead one way or another. A few persisted, of course, but the vast majority of an already minority subset of the Cybertronian populace had simply ended up crushed underfoot, or forgotten among the wreckage. Too small to be useful, too fragile to survive.
It was sheer stubbornness, and frankly her disdaining the battlefields in favor of searching the galaxy for her missing partner that kept the swan drone from meeting a similar end. Shield technology is only so useful, and doesn’t last forever against concentrated attack.
For all her misgivings against a mech Roulette clearly had the googly-optics for, Airlia would at least admit the mech had a proper dislike for the conditions of the current planet, and was wise enough to not suggest were she built differently she wouldn’t be so discomfited by the dirty ground and air. Among Decepticons in particular, anything that could be construed as weakness in frame could be relentlessly picked at. Though it could just be Pyro being polite for the sake of looking good in Roulette’s optics. No carrier likes hearing disparaging remarks about their cassette partner.
He would definitely bear close watching.
While the two of them grinned at each other as if no one would notice, the swan waddled closer to Roulette’s flank, taking up a protective position in close where she could be useful should something unexpected arise. Too many odd things were prone to happening when Roulette was about, to discount something strange going down. The femme was a bad luck charm. Hence why she needed a good cassette to take care of her.
Neck held high Airlia set to overtly scanning their surroundings, implicit approval of the plan to get inside given as far as she was concerned. She followed Roulette’s lead in such matters.
Should Airlia have voiced those opinions out loud, Roulette would have shouted that she was not a damn bad luck charm. That Shockwave had the same beliefs (only in picky, "sciency" terms) irked her to no end. It wasn't like something bad happened around her all the time! Just...part of the time. Huge difference. Frankly, the femme wasn't too sure the world was just all bad and she just happened to come across the worse parts of it at ill times. Not her fault.
So far the two seemed to be getting along. The femme shifted her attention from Pyro to Airlia to gauge whether the bird was going to go all murder fowl on her. It wasn't uncommon of the cassette to get...well, jealous seemed a correct term. Over protective was the one the sharpshooter used within hearing range. Likely the feeling would be doubled what with Airlia having lost her sister and having found her. Overthinking the situation was a bit confusing and painful so the femme tried not to dwell on the what ifs.
Honestly, the Decepticon health care needed a shrink on staff. Things would go a lot smoother.
"Luckily, I am free for the cycle. I thought I would let her explore and get her fill of the planet while I indulged in a bit of down town. No charts, no experiments, no Shockwave." She grinned at the thought. Even when she had free time on the ship, the damned mech somehow showed up or waited for her at her usual hauntings. She'd gotten quite creative at where she took her breaks just to avoid him.
While speaking, she absentmindedly reached a hand out to ruffle the plating on the swan's neck. A gesture she'd often done so long ago the action was controlling her hand before she knew what she was doing. She nearly froze when she realized her action but, for the swan's sake, kept her hand steady. Only her field flickered for a moment before smoothing out.
Settling back slightly on his heels, Pyrotech chuckled at the grin that slipped across her features.
"Well, I suppose if you had to take someone to get their fill of the planet, this is no doubt one that will do that."
The mech glanced around the dry, yellow landscape. Around them, the scraggly sage bushes had silvered with the lack of water. Brittle yellow grass moved listlessly in the slight bit of wind, swaying as if they were exhausted just from the sheer effort of staying upright. Insects whirred and buzzed, the range flies drawn to the twinkle of chrome and glass; they bumped lazily along their plating before circling slowly in the long shadows they cast.
He watched as Roulette's hand drifted to the back of the swan's long neck; an absentminded but familiar gesture. He remembered places long, long ago, the expensive parties and rooms. The rich and powerful had their toys; some of them were mechanical animals; slender needle-toothed Turbo-hounds on delicate glowing leashes. Flighted birds with their serrated beaks, curving talons clinging to sleeves that their masters slipped over their arms to keep them from scratching their finish. Slanted eyed creatures curled on their owner's laps, rumbling softly at anyone who approached them.
The rich liked their toys. They liked feeling like they had some semblance of control over everything - mech or animal.
"Lovely," he said, and inclined his head, a smile touching his aristocratic jaw. "No, no charts here. Nothing of the sort. I don't even have the tech here to make a proper chart, let alone use one."
It was obvious he was teasing, as he turned and beckoned them to follow them. He didn't turn away and walk quickly; only moved a few steps and let them get their bearings on the stones before he slowed to walk beside them. He was careful to leave the bird between them as if he respected that she would likely be more comfortable with him not coming up on Roulette's free side.
Underneath the swan's feet, the rocks were sharp and rough. There were no doubt slight scraping noises as she sidled to Roulette's side and looked out over the valley. In the direction they'd driven from it was fairly flat, but behind them loomed sharp crags and treacherous, unfriendly terrain. Dirty terrain. There was nowhere close that hearkened to the great, gleaming Towers on Cybertron. No clean buildings, no walkways shimmering and polished. There was just harsh sunlight that burned in the sharp blue curve of cloud-empty sky.
"So, how long has it been since you decided to partner?" he asked conversationally to both of them. "It seems like a very recent thing...?"