[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Gravity’s a Myth [Open to all fliers]

[Rain]

“Skirmisher my friend, we have got to get you some fresh ordinances to read, life is meant to be lived. I’m sure we can even write you an Ordinance to have some fun.” Rain nodded to herself mentally. “Life is chaotic with nigh incalculable unknowns. You are never going to be in complete control of everything that will happen to you. Letting things happen is one of the joys in life. My face is testament to the fact that trying to control things beyond your means is not ideal.” And Rain was honest that the mental effect of her failing had on the whole been for the better. This would not be the first time she had put her face where she shouldn't.

Rain altered her course to fly over to Skirmisher. A quick half roll and some easy maneuvering and her cockpit was over Skirmisher’s but high enough to be safe from his massive prop-rotors. Face to face as aircraft.

“I'm sure we can teach you to have fun, Sky and myself. I know losing control can be scary, but it really is worth it. We can take it slow and safe, spark’s vow. Now, what hobbies and temptations have previously piqued your interest?” Rain’s voice was as friendly and confident as she could be. She did not want to come across as patronizing the poor mech. But underneath it all, she was a touch concerned that his dependence on Ordinances to guide him was the insanity.

[Deleted]

Skystone couldn't help but agree with Rain. While she believed in efficiency, and would always put the job first, she didn’t personally believe in living life by a code set by somebody else. No “Ordinance” should make Skirmisher feel like he was still somehow shackled to the way things used to be, on Cybertron. That life was gone and dead. Part of surviving was adapting to the new realities they’d been dealt.


She drifted closer to Rain and Skirmisher, gathering her thoughts before speaking.


“You don’t have to completely abandon control, either- but you can learn to act outside of the life you once had. Earth is a new place...and from what I’ve seen, she has her own new set of rules. We're all tryin' to learn what exactly that means for us...what I do know is that whatever sanity we are going to keep relies on our ability to adapt.” There was no judgement in her words, and they weren't patronizing. She was just stating what she thought was true.

She left it at that-she’d never been verbose, and she’d made her point.

[Skirmisher]

The two other Fliers had made some sense that he had to find something to have occupied his time in the form of a hobby or even if not then a passing interest and while the Praxian had explained he hadn't found much in the way of things to keep his interest other than reading the old Ordinances, he hadn't been entirely truthful with them. He'd recalled in his Apartment in Praxus, he'd at least collected a decent collection of Vid-Disks that had included not only police dramas, but had covered War films and even a few of the more philosophical stories regarding Praxus' origin based on archaeological evidence. There had been a shelf off to the side in one of the rooms that contained Data Rods containing tales, and tomes that ranged from Detective Stories to ones more technical in nature. There had been at least a few cycles especially after a long shift at the Precinct or a long Patrol where he'd spent relaxing piecing together old Models from old ships to current ships and some of the odd city-states, but when the Klaxon had sounded after a particular cycle he'd been at the Precinct those small elements of his past had become little more than molten plastic.

He'd tried finding some means to pass the time in the Shuttle as it had been buried beneath the snow other than in reading Ordinances and towards maintenance of his weapon and the shuttle, but he'd found his processor filled with thoughts about being abandoned on the planet. Following his revival aboard the shuttle by Javelin and another Mech, he'd found anytime he'd allowed himself to relax had brought with it the Survivor's Guilt in the form of ever growing accusations from the voices of the Fallen in his City. He'd learned to have drowned them out by having turned to one of only a few things that had survived the Fall, and though it had caused him to become even more professional it had made him have even less of a social life. The notion of having a Social Life hadn't exactly bothered him since even during his earlier Cycles when he'd spent with Vault on his Patrols a Social Life hadn't factored into it. He'd been forged for one purpose, to Patrol and to Enforce. If he'd forged a friendship with his Partner and his Precinct-Mates, he'd viewed it as only one aspect in that Trade.

"I appreciate your advice, Rain and Skystone," the Enforcer said. He hadn't held any animosity, annoyance or even irritability towards either of the two other Fliers due in more ways than one the Garrison had been a Cohort or a Family as Rafael had explained it.