[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Masquerade [Closed]
Nov 10, 2018 0:48:01 GMT -5
Post by Optimus Prime on Nov 10, 2018 0:48:01 GMT -5
Episode 2.5 | Week Two | Day 6
Another mouth to feed.
Another individual to let down.
While every new soldier to the base would be a boon, bringing with them their own experiences, knowledge, and ideas to throw down onto the table, it also brought so much more as well. Another potential clash of personality, another tank that needed to be topped off from a considerably shrinking Energon reserve... it was going to bleed them dry, if it didn’t kindle an internal combustion of clashing personalities, and it didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon.
The call out to the stars, pulling in soldiers, trying to gather what Autobots remained scattered like dust to the wind... for three years it didn't really amount to much. A straggler one year, maybe another the next, but those may have just been individuals who happened to be nearby, able to make a fast track to this tiny blue marble. But now? Perhaps his message had finally reached the outer perimeters of traveled territory, a large number surging in rally to show up and offer their aid.
Aid to a war that was temporarily halted.
The Truce was not panning out how he hoped it would, and deep down, Optimus wondered if this was Megatron's plan from the get go. This oversight, this failure on his part, it would haunt him like many other oversights in his past. A lesson to be learned potentially in the loss of lives if they were not able to rally up in response. He had to start thinking of more drastic measures, things that would abide the truce, but perhaps work between the lines a bit... but none of those solutions were simple choices to make, nor were even clear to begin with.
It weighed on the Prime heavily, exhaustion practically hanging across his frame like an invisible shroud. This amassed weight actually prompted him to sit down and truly rest a moment in the otherwise abandoned rec-room, a sight that was borderline alien even among a new world of aliens and unfamiliar territories. In truth, Optimus seldom sat down. It was a rather odd thing to realize once pointed out, the fact that he opted to stand and remain at task, and if not he would be in movement trying to get to whatever goal was lined up next on his to-do list... to be actually sitting down when he wasn’t in the Medical Bay was foreign and odd, but, with the compound stress in play, that was where he found himself now.
Squared off fingertips pressed down at the corner of his optics, rubbing gently at the tired rings and gears that were settled right behind his makeshift eyelid to try to shake off some of the strain he felt. It wasn't really doing much however, and after a moment his broad forearm settled back down to drape over a crooked knee.
He should be getting back to task, working on anything from his list, brainstorming ideas, making a new plan... anything for his team other than sitting here in this vacant room, but exhaustion was a rather wicked thing. Try as he might to churn something out, try as he may to force his processor to connect some otherwise unforeseen dots together to carve a new path, you could not force blood out of a stone, or so the saying goes.
Perhaps... perhaps he should listen to Ratchet's advice more. Try to get some real rest, try to actually SLEEP instead of just sitting here attempting a sort of half baked attempt while still challenging his processor. It was the smart thing to do, it would potentially gift him clarity, that is, if he could even rest to begin with despite how he felt. With this thought in mind, the Prime grabbed onto just above his knees, and hefted up into a stand, hydraulics snarling out while inactive components hummed to life. He only managed to settle upright, when he thought he heard something, cyan optics flicking over to the side.
Another mouth to feed.
Another individual to let down.
While every new soldier to the base would be a boon, bringing with them their own experiences, knowledge, and ideas to throw down onto the table, it also brought so much more as well. Another potential clash of personality, another tank that needed to be topped off from a considerably shrinking Energon reserve... it was going to bleed them dry, if it didn’t kindle an internal combustion of clashing personalities, and it didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon.
The call out to the stars, pulling in soldiers, trying to gather what Autobots remained scattered like dust to the wind... for three years it didn't really amount to much. A straggler one year, maybe another the next, but those may have just been individuals who happened to be nearby, able to make a fast track to this tiny blue marble. But now? Perhaps his message had finally reached the outer perimeters of traveled territory, a large number surging in rally to show up and offer their aid.
Aid to a war that was temporarily halted.
The Truce was not panning out how he hoped it would, and deep down, Optimus wondered if this was Megatron's plan from the get go. This oversight, this failure on his part, it would haunt him like many other oversights in his past. A lesson to be learned potentially in the loss of lives if they were not able to rally up in response. He had to start thinking of more drastic measures, things that would abide the truce, but perhaps work between the lines a bit... but none of those solutions were simple choices to make, nor were even clear to begin with.
It weighed on the Prime heavily, exhaustion practically hanging across his frame like an invisible shroud. This amassed weight actually prompted him to sit down and truly rest a moment in the otherwise abandoned rec-room, a sight that was borderline alien even among a new world of aliens and unfamiliar territories. In truth, Optimus seldom sat down. It was a rather odd thing to realize once pointed out, the fact that he opted to stand and remain at task, and if not he would be in movement trying to get to whatever goal was lined up next on his to-do list... to be actually sitting down when he wasn’t in the Medical Bay was foreign and odd, but, with the compound stress in play, that was where he found himself now.
Squared off fingertips pressed down at the corner of his optics, rubbing gently at the tired rings and gears that were settled right behind his makeshift eyelid to try to shake off some of the strain he felt. It wasn't really doing much however, and after a moment his broad forearm settled back down to drape over a crooked knee.
He should be getting back to task, working on anything from his list, brainstorming ideas, making a new plan... anything for his team other than sitting here in this vacant room, but exhaustion was a rather wicked thing. Try as he might to churn something out, try as he may to force his processor to connect some otherwise unforeseen dots together to carve a new path, you could not force blood out of a stone, or so the saying goes.
Perhaps... perhaps he should listen to Ratchet's advice more. Try to get some real rest, try to actually SLEEP instead of just sitting here attempting a sort of half baked attempt while still challenging his processor. It was the smart thing to do, it would potentially gift him clarity, that is, if he could even rest to begin with despite how he felt. With this thought in mind, the Prime grabbed onto just above his knees, and hefted up into a stand, hydraulics snarling out while inactive components hummed to life. He only managed to settle upright, when he thought he heard something, cyan optics flicking over to the side.