[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Inclement Weather [Open]
Jul 9, 2020 18:55:27 GMT -5
Post by Patch on Jul 9, 2020 18:55:27 GMT -5
As soldiers kept milling around, and handling the stranger, Patch watched and listened for signs- for clues to help her identify, and hopefully fix whatever injuries had taken place.
A hiss...
Oh the little sounds like that. They could mean a million things, and very few of them were good. Had Patch been more experienced, had she another million years or two under her belt, she probably could have placed the little hiss from Mr.Natural's wing. She had no doubt if Ratchet were in her place he would have been able to- even IF for no reason besides the fact his hearing was better than her’s.
It could have been air escaping, a flash of electricity, moisture burning off overheated plating. Short circuits, hot circuits, broken circuits, all of them flashed as possibilities through the young medic’s mind. The sensations of each wiggling down her neck in turn as she imagined from her own experience, and tried to determine the cause through empathy. Which one felt right for the way he was standing, the way he was talking, for what difficulty he had likely seen?
At the sound of metal bits hitting the floor, the medic’s attention turned sharply to Rain.
Patch’s spark practically missed a pulse as she stared at the damage, and what had fallen from it. An instantaneous fear lancing through her that the shafts of the arrows could have been rain’s digits, or internal workings. At a closer glance, however, she saw the femme’s servo was still moving. That was a very good sign. It meant -regardless of surrounding damage- nerve-lines and communication relays were likely salvageable; even IF not presently online…
That was the best explanation the young soldier could come up with, as to why the femme wasn’t currently clutching that servo and screaming on the floor.
Then again… She was an empurata victim...
Maybe she’d faced worse...
Patch’s optic ridges lowered some in empathy as her helm dropped just enough to look down at the ground. She didn’t wear much expression besides that. Her jaw a bit tight as soft, thoroughly surprised optics shuttered in silent, swirling thought, then returned to the scene. She vented in air, then sat in her hip as she let it out again and crossed her arms- scanner still in hand, and resting on her robotic ‘bicep’. Young expression very serious as her four-digit began to quickly tap against her shoulder armor.
There was a festering WANT to just step in and fix them in the back of young medic’s mind. To just get her servos on the damage clearly present and -even if not repair it until Ratchet showed up- at the very LEAST take the hurt away.
Aaaaand THERE was her que.
With swift steps, the small femme pushed out into the open room. The small dip of her helm toward her leader, the slight widen of her optics very much a mix of ‘thank you’ and a silent ‘yup, that’s the call I woulda’ made.’
As she approached the slightly taller blue femme, Patch’s expression didn’t change much, aside from a very subtle softening of freckled features. The caution most evident in her blue optics, made rounder, and smaller by lack of surrounding emphasis, or decoration. She made a point to look down at the arrow shafts as she passed them… tensor cables? Dermal metal? Didn’t look like part of her anatomy thank Primus.
She slowed, but didn’t quite stop just before, and to Optimus’ side. Watching Rain, Patch loosely extended a servo and flicked it in toward herself. Scanner low in her other servo at her side. “Come on.” A light, conversational tone. Attempting to gently coax the soldier without placing too much pressure. Asking the other femme to make up the rest of the distance, though prepared to step in if Rain’s current, stable state was in fact a high from combat. Prepared to help support if she came suddenly down from it, and required a shoulder to lean on, or an elbow to lock though.
A hiss...
Oh the little sounds like that. They could mean a million things, and very few of them were good. Had Patch been more experienced, had she another million years or two under her belt, she probably could have placed the little hiss from Mr.Natural's wing. She had no doubt if Ratchet were in her place he would have been able to- even IF for no reason besides the fact his hearing was better than her’s.
It could have been air escaping, a flash of electricity, moisture burning off overheated plating. Short circuits, hot circuits, broken circuits, all of them flashed as possibilities through the young medic’s mind. The sensations of each wiggling down her neck in turn as she imagined from her own experience, and tried to determine the cause through empathy. Which one felt right for the way he was standing, the way he was talking, for what difficulty he had likely seen?
At the sound of metal bits hitting the floor, the medic’s attention turned sharply to Rain.
Patch’s spark practically missed a pulse as she stared at the damage, and what had fallen from it. An instantaneous fear lancing through her that the shafts of the arrows could have been rain’s digits, or internal workings. At a closer glance, however, she saw the femme’s servo was still moving. That was a very good sign. It meant -regardless of surrounding damage- nerve-lines and communication relays were likely salvageable; even IF not presently online…
That was the best explanation the young soldier could come up with, as to why the femme wasn’t currently clutching that servo and screaming on the floor.
Then again… She was an empurata victim...
Maybe she’d faced worse...
Patch’s optic ridges lowered some in empathy as her helm dropped just enough to look down at the ground. She didn’t wear much expression besides that. Her jaw a bit tight as soft, thoroughly surprised optics shuttered in silent, swirling thought, then returned to the scene. She vented in air, then sat in her hip as she let it out again and crossed her arms- scanner still in hand, and resting on her robotic ‘bicep’. Young expression very serious as her four-digit began to quickly tap against her shoulder armor.
There was a festering WANT to just step in and fix them in the back of young medic’s mind. To just get her servos on the damage clearly present and -even if not repair it until Ratchet showed up- at the very LEAST take the hurt away.
Aaaaand THERE was her que.
With swift steps, the small femme pushed out into the open room. The small dip of her helm toward her leader, the slight widen of her optics very much a mix of ‘thank you’ and a silent ‘yup, that’s the call I woulda’ made.’
As she approached the slightly taller blue femme, Patch’s expression didn’t change much, aside from a very subtle softening of freckled features. The caution most evident in her blue optics, made rounder, and smaller by lack of surrounding emphasis, or decoration. She made a point to look down at the arrow shafts as she passed them… tensor cables? Dermal metal? Didn’t look like part of her anatomy thank Primus.
She slowed, but didn’t quite stop just before, and to Optimus’ side. Watching Rain, Patch loosely extended a servo and flicked it in toward herself. Scanner low in her other servo at her side. “Come on.” A light, conversational tone. Attempting to gently coax the soldier without placing too much pressure. Asking the other femme to make up the rest of the distance, though prepared to step in if Rain’s current, stable state was in fact a high from combat. Prepared to help support if she came suddenly down from it, and required a shoulder to lean on, or an elbow to lock though.