[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Oh Well [Nue, Windshield]
Dec 4, 2023 17:23:17 GMT -5
Post by Windshield on Dec 4, 2023 17:23:17 GMT -5
"Oh, yes. It's as real as any of us, I'm afraid to say," Windshield hummed in a playful tone, raising his brow a tad before he turned to picking at the dirt under his claw tips with just the one hand.
"The blood of Unicron, they call it. I've never seen a chunk of it myself nor do I think it's the life-force of some ancient chaos god, but I've read the reports..."
He stretched his words and let them hang heavy in the air, as if he were unraveling some fundamental truth of the universe. And in a sense, he was. Dark Energon once seemed no less imaginary than Sparkeaters, the Underbase, or ghosts. It was a myth, a theory with one foot in religion and the other in the abstract sciences. To match the revelatory nature of the material, he slowly hoisted himself up and returned his hands to the forefront while letting his legs hang off the edge just by Nue's side. He clasped his sharp digits together, each slotting neatly between the other.
He gave him his full attention.
"An Autobot prisoner turned into a ravenous ghoul, a graveyard battlefield resurrected by Megatron's will, and a colossal SpaceBridge built as a gateway for the living dead of Cybertron. It's hard to think of this as anything but fiction, but it all happened. It wasn't even that long ago, actually."
Another pause, his focus narrowing down to the optic, and once more did the serpent and the flame dance.
"Imagine what marvelous wonders someone of your talents could create with just a drop of the stuff."
He spotted it there, in the serpent's eye and in its dire desire: The opportunity to make great and terrible things, perhaps the same opportunity that Megatron saw.
This, too, could be the beginning of something terrible—something beautiful.
"The blood of Unicron, they call it. I've never seen a chunk of it myself nor do I think it's the life-force of some ancient chaos god, but I've read the reports..."
He stretched his words and let them hang heavy in the air, as if he were unraveling some fundamental truth of the universe. And in a sense, he was. Dark Energon once seemed no less imaginary than Sparkeaters, the Underbase, or ghosts. It was a myth, a theory with one foot in religion and the other in the abstract sciences. To match the revelatory nature of the material, he slowly hoisted himself up and returned his hands to the forefront while letting his legs hang off the edge just by Nue's side. He clasped his sharp digits together, each slotting neatly between the other.
He gave him his full attention.
"An Autobot prisoner turned into a ravenous ghoul, a graveyard battlefield resurrected by Megatron's will, and a colossal SpaceBridge built as a gateway for the living dead of Cybertron. It's hard to think of this as anything but fiction, but it all happened. It wasn't even that long ago, actually."
Another pause, his focus narrowing down to the optic, and once more did the serpent and the flame dance.
"Imagine what marvelous wonders someone of your talents could create with just a drop of the stuff."
He spotted it there, in the serpent's eye and in its dire desire: The opportunity to make great and terrible things, perhaps the same opportunity that Megatron saw.
This, too, could be the beginning of something terrible—something beautiful.