2017-06-18 Learning Styles

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Learning Styles
Date 2017/06/18
Location Rigard - Central Garden
Participants Rodimus, Whetstone
Summary Rodimus picks the processor of resident Circle Knight Whetstone for a little insight on their situation. Roddy finally learns about the Guiding Hand.

In the central garden of Rigard's five-fold ring of temples, Rodimus stands looking out of place and awkward. This is a great place for him to request a meeting with a member of the crew that he hasn't spent a lot of time with. Or -- any, really. So the fact that he asks to see him is a bit unusual, and yet -- here we are. Here Rodimus is. Looking awkward.

Whetstone /tries/ not to keep anyone waiting. But he'd gotten a bit turned around on the way here.

"So sorry!" the wyvern-moded mech calls from atop the roofing of one of the pagodas, before leaping down into the garden with a staggered transformation into root mode. "Captain!" He snaps off a sharp salute, and stands stiffly. "Flaming Arrow. Guiding Light. The Smiter of-" Putting the brakes on all of the titles he has in mind, he smiles behind the shroud of his helm. "You called for me?"

Oh God what. Drift didn't mention this. Whetstone's titles for Drift, yes. The rest of it--? Nope.

Briefly taken aback by the crispness of Whetstone's address as much as the titles that follow, Rodimus shifts his posture with the ease of a natural performer who has become aware of an audience. The awkward startle dissolves before a wash of confident ease and he gives Whetstone a laughing wave -- less salute, but acknowledgement all the same, and a casual stand down that encourages him to relax. Look how relaxed Rodimus is. He's got this! He's never been awkward in his life! "Whetstone, thanks. I did. Wanted your insight -- and your help, so I think maybe Rodimus will be good for now."

Whetstone isn't super attentive to all of the subtle shifts between presence that Rodimus cycles through. He just seems pleased for the laugh. Standing in a parade rest, he nods once. "Rodimus. I'll offer what I can." Beat. "What's up?" That's pretty casual, right?

Super casual. Rodimus relaxes into less of a performance face as Whetstone casuals so far as to hit a parade rest. Good enough. "Couple of things, really. Wanted to get your opinion of all of this--" He waves at the pagodas, the Titan beyond, and its AI buried beneath. "--to start, though. Circle of Light has a pretty unique angle on our history."

Whetstone suddenly looks a little uneasy. "I don't... know that I'd have anything more than Drift or Axe. I can fetch them for you! Er, I suppose you could fetch Drift. He's your... something!" He glances back at the pagodas. "But I suppose I've put a lot of focus on scriptures. You want my opinion on what remains of that Knight of Cybertron? Or Rigard in general?"

Rodimus grins. "He's definitely my something," he agrees. The affection that colors his voice is impossible to mistake despite the flippant words. Ah, romance. Shaking his head, he says, "I could've asked Drift or Axe or Madrigal or-- any one of the others." There are probably others. "But I'm asking you. Want to know what you think of all of it, really."

Whetstone takes a moment to 'vent' inward. "I feel as though we are on the cusp, Flaming Arrow! It's true, it's all true! Say what you will of the demeanor of Anialus - That is a Knight, a TRUE Knight of the Light-Giver! With him, w-with the artifacts-" He tries to organize his thoughts, but it's clear he's been wanting to gush to someone. "We can drive off this... this evil visage of Mortilus," hand-wave, "and behold the power of the Light of the Endless Circle! And perhaps then... we can use the Knight's insight and recreate the paradise of Theophany." He balls his clawed fist, before dropping it to his side.

"Yeah," Rodimus says, sighing faintly in a compressed, inward cycle of his vents, "I guess he is a Knight." He pauses. "Knightish, anyway." Tipping a gesture at the five temples, he says, "The Guiding Hand seems like it's stamped all over this colony. All I really know about those myths is what I've heard from Cyclonus. And he kind of has one of those voices--." He breaks off. The implication is there that he maybe didn't pay much attention. "I know they were mentioned in an inscription on the Matrix and I feel like I almost remember something about them, about Unicron, all of it, but I can't hold on to it. Even more slippery than the map was."

Whetstone becomes /intensely/ interested when Rodimus mentions a memory. "I think you're right about the Guiding Hand and this colony. Surely it's holy ground. Perhaps there's more beneath the surface, if the Knights saw fit to keep that machine here. Cyclonus' version is more or less all you need to know. Unless... you didn't actually listen. Though I'm... kinda' surprised Drift didn't tell you." He eases up a little, gaze turning less harshly passionate. "You're not particularly religious I imagine. Yet you have old visions of these incredible figures?"

"Drift might be a great teacher, but I'm a pretty terrible student where he's concerned." Rodimus has the grace to look sheepish on that, saying, "You would not believe how long he's been trying to get me to not be an embarrassment with a blade. So ... why don't, uh, you tell me your version." He makes no comment as to whether or not he listened to Cyclonus's version, just throws Whetstone a winning smile that grows a touch awkward: the lapsed in the face of the devout. "I'm not religious like Drift is. He's the one who had the big visions, he's the Spectralist, all of that. I don't have visions. I don't even know what I'm doing. Had no idea what I was drawing on my desk for like a year and a half."

"That's something!" Whetstone says, encouraged by that winning grin. "Drawing on your desk, I mean. Like it or not, I believe a force is speaking through you, or trying to. Visions, memories, all the same." He's not blind to the faltering. "I'll not judge anyone these days," he assures. "We're lucky we were able to escape on this ship. At least... the few of us that did. Our leader's gone. So I'm not about to... what's the word... throw shade upon those that don't believe as we do."

"My teacher at Theophany taught me that Primus, creator of Cybertron, felt a stirring of sparks within him and split himself into five aspects: Light, death, wisdom, knowledge, and adaptivity. These aspects then created our race. Under them, we were graced with a golden age, until the aspect of death, Mortilus, sought to fight against the stars and all life within them. The remaining four, Primus, Solomus, Epistemus, and Adaptus, warred with Mortilus, and won, but left them wounded. Primus retreated to the core of our planet to become Vector Sigma. Adaptus became the transformation cog, Epistemus became the brain module, Solomus became the creation matrix. This is a summarized version but I'll not keep you here all night... It does seem to align with the nature of these pagodas, doesn't it."

Rodimus listens this time. Cyclonus would no doubt be totally offended ... if he cared at all. (Unlikely.) "It really does." He fingerguns one-two-three-four-five at the pagodas and names them more or less at random for the figures of the Guiding Hand. "Primus, Solomus, Epistemus, Adaptus, and Mortilus." He pauses at the last. "If this -- Unicron. If it is Mortilus by another name, does that mean that the Guiding Hand defeated him and then the Knights defeated him -- and both times it clearly wasn't enough to keep him down?"

"I'm... not certain Unicron is a visage of Mortilus," Whetstone is quick to patch. He fidgets. Maybe a particular Mortilus-worshipper has swayed his views a little. "Perceptor asked me this too. Possible it's a weapon OF Mortilus, or a servant... I suppose it doesn't matter much, does it." He settles an unreadable look upon the captain. "Do you doubt the power of these artifacts?" It's not accusatory in tone, at least not meant to be. "Or do you fear it'll all be for naught, if he's to rise again..."

"That's slightly more reassuring, I guess." Rodimus tries the idea of Unicron being a weapon of Mortilus on, adapting that into his worldview -- and then shrugs. "But while I don't think it's for nothing, exactly, the Knights couldn't really kill him before. They broke his power, they separated him, but they didn't kill him. If they didn't have the power to do that then, why should their artifacts have that power now?"

"I don't know," Whetstone answers honestly, clawed palms out and wings drooping. "I wish I knew. I have theories that you wouldn't like. A prominent one being that /you're/ with us. Another involves Rigard having it's own Vector Sigma, so to speak. I could try to speak with the AI again but it seems purposefully corrupted, somehow."

The plates of Rodimus's face twitch, somewhere between a grin and a grimace, and even he doesn't seem to quite know which it is going to be. "Ah -- yeah. Those are quite some theories. I've run into the AI's database issues too. I don't know if it was purposeful. It's just old. Look at how much information creep we've all suffered that this has passed out of memory." Pausing a beat, he asks, "That -- meditating you guys do. It ever helped with memory? Have you ever had a vision?"

"Good point." Whetstone lights up at the question. "Would you like to try it? Sure it helps with memory! And reaction. And stamina. And a whole list of things! Join Drift the next time he does it. You want to call upon that specific memory of the Guiding Hand? Or do you believe it's just a memory that we all knew of these aspects, clouded by the info creep?" ... "No, I haven't had visions of anything notable... Nothing I can recall, anyway." Sigh. "Primus doesn't seem to smile upon me often."

"I ... can't meditate with Drift." Rodimus passes his hand over his face, settling in a smile. "We've tried. Trust me. That's not happening. But I thought maybe we could try it sometime?" That's not insulting, right? He can pay way more attention with Whetstone! "And who knows, maybe you might see something too?" He seems entirely serious as he looks back at Whetstone -- not only willing, but even eager. "I don't remember enough to say anything at all. I couldn't even remember the map. And I don't know if I'm just telling myself it all sounds familiar, or if it really is. If there's something left there, by the Matrix."

Whetstone wonders why the Drift-meditation combo doesn't work. Genuinely. But he doesn't let his mind dwell on that for too long. "I've always seen Drift to be an excellent teacher, but I'll try where he fails, sure! Absolutely! It's easier than you think. We just need a place that's quiet and without interruption. It's all mean to be very introspective. If you can manage, we'll see what we can dig up." Oh how he wants to spill more titles and ceremony and invocations, but somewhere Madrigal is telling him to chill the fuck out. "Just comm me."

Rodimus fingerguns Whetstone, the tip of his hand paired with a grin. "Great, thanks. You think about that the right kind of place is and let me know and next time we'll try. It's definitely no reflection on Drift as a teacher. He's great with everyone else." Mostly. "Sometimes people just have different learning styles, you know?" He sounds just a touch evasive. "Anyway, thanks for letting me pick your processor. Let me know if you think of anything that might be any kind of connection. Or if you do have a vision, after all. I might not be as religious as Drift, but I know we've buried a lot of truths behind those tales."

"Anytime at all, Captain," Whetstone nods crisply. "Sure, I getcha'. I went through about five teachers before one clicked with me. Granted I was a pretty... angry guy back then. Anyway, will do! Primus bless!" When dismissed, he waves ridiculously and turns to vault over the garden walls.

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