[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Snake on a Plane (Bait/Open)
Apr 26, 2021 12:30:28 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 26, 2021 12:30:28 GMT -5
While Starkrieger occupied himself with the snake like cassette, another Cybertronians would enter the room. This individual was large, well armored, thick plated and had some heavy artillery to carry onto his plate. Two large wings were tucked behind his back, folding downwards into an upside down V shape, accompanied with another two set of wings, slightly smaller in design. His frame was currently covered with a layer of dust and mud, trailing off of his frame as if he'd taken a mud bath some time ago, as most of it had already dried and stuck to his frame like glue.
Underneath said layer, however, were visible specks of an old mossy green color, barely noticeable. The dark green on the other side, was something that looked worn and old as it had already lost most of its saturation and began to fade to gray.
Downfall was indeed not someone who took great interest (or care) in his own appearance. He was far too old to even stand a chance against all those well-cared frames anyway. It also took too much effort to maintain a shiny paintjob in their current situation. Why bother when one had to dig and shovel around dirt?
Once fully inside, the jet took a good 'look' around and quickly found himself blinded by the sheer amount of vibration that traveled through the area. With a quick, annoyed grunt he turned his attention towards the corner it came from; the solvent splashing down, creating a tumult of disruptions in the air.
Someone was definitely enjoying themselves there.
And it seemed this particular individual had company.
Downfall didn't want to come off as a creep and slowly turned his attention elsewhere. Whatever it was they were doing, he better stayed out of this and didn't judge. 'What happened in the washracks, stayed in the washracks' as the old saying went.
But regardless of that all, a small little greeting wouldn't hurt to make himself known in case they hadn't noticed him.
“Good evening.”
Casual spoken, laced with a thick Russian accent.
Once this had been said, his right servo would stretch forward, sharp claws visible as they vaguely tried to grip the air and feel around for some support. It was a simple attempt to reach his own destination. A gesture that would look abnormal to anyone who wasn't accustomed with his disability. But for those who knew, Downfall's movement and his frame would slowly tilt as if someone suddenly turned off all lights. Trapped into darkness to find the switch.
He just needed a quick shower, a bit of water to do the trick and get him clean so he could tackle another task once finished. How hard could that be?
Underneath said layer, however, were visible specks of an old mossy green color, barely noticeable. The dark green on the other side, was something that looked worn and old as it had already lost most of its saturation and began to fade to gray.
Downfall was indeed not someone who took great interest (or care) in his own appearance. He was far too old to even stand a chance against all those well-cared frames anyway. It also took too much effort to maintain a shiny paintjob in their current situation. Why bother when one had to dig and shovel around dirt?
Once fully inside, the jet took a good 'look' around and quickly found himself blinded by the sheer amount of vibration that traveled through the area. With a quick, annoyed grunt he turned his attention towards the corner it came from; the solvent splashing down, creating a tumult of disruptions in the air.
Someone was definitely enjoying themselves there.
And it seemed this particular individual had company.
Downfall didn't want to come off as a creep and slowly turned his attention elsewhere. Whatever it was they were doing, he better stayed out of this and didn't judge. 'What happened in the washracks, stayed in the washracks' as the old saying went.
But regardless of that all, a small little greeting wouldn't hurt to make himself known in case they hadn't noticed him.
“Good evening.”
Casual spoken, laced with a thick Russian accent.
Once this had been said, his right servo would stretch forward, sharp claws visible as they vaguely tried to grip the air and feel around for some support. It was a simple attempt to reach his own destination. A gesture that would look abnormal to anyone who wasn't accustomed with his disability. But for those who knew, Downfall's movement and his frame would slowly tilt as if someone suddenly turned off all lights. Trapped into darkness to find the switch.
He just needed a quick shower, a bit of water to do the trick and get him clean so he could tackle another task once finished. How hard could that be?