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Difference between revisions of "2018-11-05 Let's Go to the Garden"

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(Created page with "{{Log |logtitle=2018-11-05 Let's Go to the Garden |logdate=2018/11/05 |location=Tempo - Central Garden |participants=Rodimus, Soundwave, |summary=You'll find something waiting...")
 
 
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"I need them to know that we didn't abandon them," Rodimus says with quiet urgency. He takes Soundwave's hand in his own and pulls it toward his chest to curl against the flames marked in paint. He's warm enough to make them real, and it's a fire that lights his gaze as well. "Maybe it's selfish of me, but when I think of how I'd feel to see my home vanish without me--." Oh, wait, he knows a little. He winces. "I have to help. We could use your help getting the word out, maybe?"
 
"I need them to know that we didn't abandon them," Rodimus says with quiet urgency. He takes Soundwave's hand in his own and pulls it toward his chest to curl against the flames marked in paint. He's warm enough to make them real, and it's a fire that lights his gaze as well. "Maybe it's selfish of me, but when I think of how I'd feel to see my home vanish without me--." Oh, wait, he knows a little. He winces. "I have to help. We could use your help getting the word out, maybe?"
  
Soundwave's fingers rub against those flames as his other hand reaching to pull Rodimus in closer, to hold him closer. "Wanting to help others, not selfish," he says. "But you cannot help in the way wish. Our mission was a success- we are virtually free from injury as well- but that's only because we were just one part of it. The other-- Rodimus, there were loses. Prowl would not have raced away from his objective if their distraction were not turning sacrifice. They'll need you here."
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Soundwave's fingers rub against those flames as his other hand reaching to pull Rodimus in closer, to hold him closer. "Wanting to help others, not selfish," he says. "But you cannot help in the way you wish. Our mission was a success- we are virtually free from injury as well- but that's only because we were just one part of it. The other-- Rodimus, there were loses. Prowl would not have raced away from his objective if their distraction were not turning sacrifice. They'll need you here."
  
 
"I know." Rodimus is sober as he looks back at Soundwave, quiet and focused. "I've gotten initial reports. Nothing like a final tally. A lot of question marks, still. I hate question marks. But I'm not a medic: there's nothing I can do here that I couldn't do better there. Need me here? For what? I'm not even a planner, like Prowl. He executed it as well as I could have asked."
 
"I know." Rodimus is sober as he looks back at Soundwave, quiet and focused. "I've gotten initial reports. Nothing like a final tally. A lot of question marks, still. I hate question marks. But I'm not a medic: there's nothing I can do here that I couldn't do better there. Need me here? For what? I'm not even a planner, like Prowl. He executed it as well as I could have asked."

Latest revision as of 01:21, 6 November 2018

2018-11-05 Let's Go to the Garden
Date 2018/11/05
Location Tempo - Central Garden
Participants Rodimus, Soundwave
Summary You'll find something waiting.

One moment: Cybertron; the next moment: space.

The lights of the fleet twinkle in the distance. It's not far, in astronomical terms, but space is vast enough that even the Lost Light's massive form is rendered a sparkle of brightness against the dark. Tempo is -- not home, no, but safe, and among the familiar. Rodimus relaxes, for a moment, and then everything is all chaos again as they set to movement. Were they followed? What's up with the equipment? They need Bulkhead over here, ASAP, and maybe bring Nightshade, too. She was quite the prodigy, after all, and Decepticons might recognize Decepticon thinking. Is that racist? Too bad! The request is out.

It's not until things have settled down again that Rodimus can be found outside of Tempo's central chambers beneath the shielded stars. Blast marks scorch the pavement, and the beautiful gardens are tattered. It's quiet.

Compared to Tempo's spacebridge, his brain, his internal chambers, the once-upon-a-time gardens is rather peaceful. But Soundwave wouldn't say they're quiet. He comes up behind Rodimus on gentle steps- that are possibly not as gentle as he previously thought. "Mission, accomplished," he says, interrupting the silence of the gardens with soft words. "Prowl must be pleased." Wherever he is.

"It was messy, but -- we got it done." Rodimus grimaces, turning to face Soundwave as he thumbs his visor up off his face. The numbers which had been scrolling on his HUD fade to the background. "Mostly. I really don't like thinking we left any of the Rigardians behind. Bulkhead's going to check out the spacebridge, then I'm going back for them."

Soundwave's head tilts. Its the disappointed angle as Rodimus rids himself of his visor. "Any Rigardians left on Cybertron, no worse than when Tempo was still with them. Better off, now that we have their titan again." He pauses, briefly, to reach out and take Rodimus's hand. "You shouldn't be rushing back to the den of monsters so fast."

"I need them to know that we didn't abandon them," Rodimus says with quiet urgency. He takes Soundwave's hand in his own and pulls it toward his chest to curl against the flames marked in paint. He's warm enough to make them real, and it's a fire that lights his gaze as well. "Maybe it's selfish of me, but when I think of how I'd feel to see my home vanish without me--." Oh, wait, he knows a little. He winces. "I have to help. We could use your help getting the word out, maybe?"

Soundwave's fingers rub against those flames as his other hand reaching to pull Rodimus in closer, to hold him closer. "Wanting to help others, not selfish," he says. "But you cannot help in the way you wish. Our mission was a success- we are virtually free from injury as well- but that's only because we were just one part of it. The other-- Rodimus, there were loses. Prowl would not have raced away from his objective if their distraction were not turning sacrifice. They'll need you here."

"I know." Rodimus is sober as he looks back at Soundwave, quiet and focused. "I've gotten initial reports. Nothing like a final tally. A lot of question marks, still. I hate question marks. But I'm not a medic: there's nothing I can do here that I couldn't do better there. Need me here? For what? I'm not even a planner, like Prowl. He executed it as well as I could have asked."

Soundwave drags his hand up to rub his thumb over the sharp angle of Rodimus's cheek. "There are things medics can't help with," he says. "When we lost battles- when we were at our lowest and scared after the first rages of war. M- He would speak. And it would make the difference of a broken soldier... And a soldier hopeful for the next day." He taps Rodimus's chin, fingers following the edge of his jaw. "A few encouraging words from you could mean the world to them. I know it for a fact, actually."

Rodimus butts his head into the touch of Soundwave's hand, then further, leaning his helm against Soundwave's mask. His words are spoken quietly into the hollow of his collar fairing, with the vibrations of his voice shivering over cords and cables: "Then I'll speak. Windblade and Drift will write it, and I'll say it, and maybe it will help, and then I will turn around and I will go to Cybertron, because that is what I am going to be telling them, and what I will be showing them. There's not a risk they run that I wouldn't take on myself, and not a Cybertronian on that planet that I wouldn't go back for." He looks up at Soundwave, unmovable.

Soundwave chuckles, a buzz in the back of his throat. "I'm not keeping you from Cybertron," he assures Rodimus. "I just ask you not to rush in. We will have spacebridges once more. If we wait for those, if we plan while we wait for those, we'll bring them all back safely." His hand drops just so he can hold Rodimus in both arms. He bumps his forehead to Rodimus's. "And away with speeches. That's Ignition's job now. Do what you do best- be with them, and make them smile. That damnable Matrix needs to earn its keep, too."

Rodimus settles, armor easing from the edge of a fight, as Soundwave promises not to keep him from his imagined duty. "You telling me it's not earning its keep already? Keeping an eye on you, always listening, distracting me just when you want my attention?" he teases. There's a slight edge of uncertainty as he admits, "Sometimes I wonder if I should do more. But maybe just being present is enough. What about you? What're you going to do?"

Soundwave makes a gruff noise, not at all amused by the Matrix teasing- or maybe he's just a little charmed by it and hates to admit it. "I believe it has more work to do it if wants everyone to trust it again. I hope it knows what those who who had it or claimed to have had it done under its name- its title." He gruffs again, softer this time. "If there's one thing no one can accuse you of, Rodimus, its of not doing enough."

Fingers absently trailing biolights, Soundwave shifts his wait in a single, halted sway with Rodimus. "I don't know. Cybertron isn't our only concern. And I fear being too involved in it... Perhaps I'll step away to put some attention on another problem before returning. It's not me the world needs anyways." He squeezes Rodimus briefly. "Besides. I'm still rather upset with the Quintessons. I think they've earned some focus of my ire."

"Mm, I'll miss you, then." Rodimus lifts his hand to catch Soundwave's arm with his fingertips sliding along and between the plates of his armor toward his hand. "But we can't afford to forget about the Quintessons in the middle of all this, either. If you're focusing on it, then at least I'll know it's being handled. And besides: it'll be easy to move around now that we have Tempo back." He lifts his head and sweeps the plaza with a warm regard. Feels good.

"Miss me enough to make me another recording?" Soundwave asks lightly, almost coyly. He'd like another recording, is the hint. Then his hands grip Rodimus's side and he lifts! Only to place the speedster on a short ledge that used to help guard the growth here, but no longer. It brings them bother to eye-level, though. "Yes, this victory very fortuitous... I might bring Prowl with me on the Quintessons- a win like this might go to his head. You know how he gets with momentum."

Rodimus heats up!! in indignation!! when he is lifted only to settle back into a simmer when it's a short lift. He takes minor revenge on Soundwave by hooking his foot behind his leg and scooting to the edge, pressed against him. "You know what? Maybe. Might go a little differently, this time." His smile carries a touch of promise, of mischief. "Really make sure you look forward to seeing me again. Talk about all the things I miss, things I'd like to do. Definitely make sure you play it where Prowl can hear, and then tell me if he spontaneously combusts."

Soundwave's grip on Rodimus's waist tightens ever more as he talks, until he hears the first groan of metal. He quickly releases Rodimus, glass of his deck already warm to the touch. "That sounds--" He runs through a list of words and none of them quite fit. So, instead, he just says, "I would like that very much, yes. And I'll be sure to record Prowl if he does so." And then the hum of his chassis begins to quiet and his gaze flits downward. He thinks to himself, quietly.

Rodimus grins. There's an anticipatory gleam to his smile, tongue touching the edge of a fang as his lips part, as though there's a physical hunger -- raw, empty tanks to sate -- behind the anticipation. He is CLEARLY going to have fun with his next batch of recordings. And with a potential audience, he's going to make sure that Prowl does not have fun. His voice is smokey-warm as he says, "I'd like that, too. I'll get something set up, then."

"Are you going to call me--" Soundwave struggles a moment, again tripped over a single word. "That. Are you going to call me that in the recordings?"

It takes a long moment of memory searching before Rodimus figures out what Soundwave is talking about. When he hits on it, he grins, and slips his hand from Soundwave's arm up the plating on his side. His thumb glides toward the seam of his deck. "I'll call you a lot of things, sweetspark."

It's clear in the ticking of his engine and sudden, revived hum of his chassis that Soundwave is flustered. That word sends palpitations right to his spark. "R-Right. Yes. That one-- that word." He turns his head away to look at that VERY interesting wall. Right over there. Just SO INTERESTING. "I like it when you say it like that. And not like before..."

Rodimus looks charmed: surprised, too, and a bit baffled that a word could provoke that kind of reaction. But mostly charmed. He drags the back of his heel up the back of Soundwave's leg where his legs part around him. "Yeah? Tell me about it. Tell me what you like."

Soundwave's vocoder spits out stuttered static before he resets it, cycling his vents. "I like it when you don't say it sarcastically in front of everyone," he says once he's got his systems back within normal parameters. "I like it when you say it like you just did."

Rodimus thumbs the edge of Soundwave's dock, then lifts his hand to frame Soundwave's face and pull him closer. His gaze searches Soundwave's visor. "Was it the sarcasm that bothered you, or the everyone?"

Soundwave stares at Rodimus as he thinks. And thinks. And thinks some more. He doesn't want to give some false notion of what bothers him- a lie to himself or to Rodimus. So, he says with quiet confidence in his answer: "The sarcasm." And then he continues, as if he needs to explain why, "It-- It's not like a name or a nickname or a codename. Its like a... A possessive. And when you don't say it with some sincerity, it... Hmmm." He struggles to pinpoint a word for the feeling.

Rodimus waits out the thoughtful quiet with barely a squirm of impatience. Maybe a little squirm. His thumb sweeps the edge of Soundwave's mask in a fidget. He nods at the answer, and when Soundwave stalls, he says, "It's enough for me that you don't like it. I would have stopped, either way." He pauses, then grins. "Now, I'll just stop doing it teasingly, but otherwise absolutely keep it up. Because I do mean it, sincerely, and I do -- treasure you, sincerely." It's a bit of a struggle for him to find the right word there, too, and he's maybe not totally satisfied. But it's too late. Quietly, Rodimus says, "I don't want sweetness to turn to acid in your audials. Or make you doubt."

"It's not your fault," Soundwave says quickly, even as his systems hiccup. The sincerity is also very flustering! But he settles, and he leans into Rodimus. "If I doubt, sometimes, its not your fault. I've had plenty of hopes- but a part of me gave up on having something like this. A relationship other than my cassettes. And the part that hoped, always knew I was not good enough. Thought I wasn't." He heaves a vent. "Sometimes, its still hard to believe..."

As Soundwave leans forward, Rodimus wraps one arm around him, and lets his other hand drop low over his frame again, past his dock and over his armored midsection to rest flat between them. His legs angle wide to pull Soundwave between his thighs. "If you're having trouble believing, I could probably come up with firmer evidence," he teases in a quiet voice. He allows the teasing to fade, though his words are still soft as he asks, "Why do you think you weren't good enough?"

Soundwave is drawn in and his visor dims. He just focuses on Rodimus and all the little sounds he makes with his squirming and his kibble and what he houses. "Query: are you my therapist?" he asks, mirroring Rodimus's tone lightly. But his shoulders fall, lose some of their straight edge. "I am not sure. My life has been about working hard enough to make myself indispensable. But that's not how this works- I think." Beat. "Have I actually told you where I am from?"

Rodimus wrinkles his nose at Soundwave and laughs in a simple huff of his vents. "I'm not your therapist. But I'm your friend. I'm your -- I don't know. You tell me what I am," he says, stalling out in a moment's uncertain vulnerability.

MOVING ON. "You don't have to make yourself indepensible. You're not going to be -- dispensed. Disposed? It sounded better in my head," Rodimus mutters, headbutting Soundwave gently. The angles of his grip soften, and lose their flirtatious edge to become comforting. His hand strokes down Soundwave's side like he's soothing a beast, and his legs fall wide, no longer hooking around him. "Where are you from?"

"Not from the Dead End. That's just where I ended up. Where I'm from... Where..." Soundwave pauses, as if he could actually pull the name out of a hat now unlike all the other times he tried. He just shakes his head. "Wherever I was born, they did dispose of me. I've told you of everything after- but before Ravage... I was alone and before that, all I can recall was the impression that I was a burden. Couldn't even exert the effort to kill me, decided to let the world do that. I can't remember anything else about my home." He pauses. "I really like hearing you talk about Nyon. Maybe you can add that to your recording."

"You deserve to live," Rodimus says, all but incandescent in the fierceness of his belief. When he speaks, there's an echo: an uncomfortable echo, for Soundwave, from a voice he hates to hear, but it's more than Rodimus's voice behind those words. "You've always deserved that. A newborn spark is a gift of life, and it's those who found you that were unworthy. You are enough as you are: flawed, imperfect, and you've made terrible mistakes. But still. Good enough."

Soundwave falls quiet for a long stretch of time. "Recently, very recently, I've been thinking otherwise. That maybe, if Ravage and the birds hadn't found me... There might be a lot more life. As you said, I've made terrible mistakes. And I hate whoever threw me to the streets- but was content to throw warborns to the dogs of war." He pulls back to scrub a hand down his face. "No, no. My apologies. We should be celebrating victory, not ruminating in my... Issues."

"Shut up and get back here." Rodimus pulls Soundwave right back in again as he tries to draw away. His leg around Soundwave goes tight, hitching him close. "You can't answer the question of what might have been. You can only take stock of yourself -- be honest, be open, with yourself -- and decide what you are going to do going forward. You've brought death. You're right. You build, then, to offset what you've destroyed."

Soundwave grunts a "Hrft-" as he dragged back in. Oh yeah, Rodimus 2.0 is pretty strong. He smiles a little, seen in the flash of light in the corner of his visor. "You're right. You're right. Self-pity doesn't solve anything." Tentatively, hesitantly, he leans his weight back onto Rodimus. "I'll have to think about what I can possibly build to offset what I've done. Hmm... This could take some time."

“You have time,” Rodimus promises. He draws his hand up Soundwave’s side, over his deck, to rest beneath his chin. His thumb sweeps the mask. “Maybe none of us are worth the fortune we’ve been given, but we can try to be.”

The locks that hold his mask in place subtly click off, the plate loosening under Rodimus's truck. "Its all we can do sometimes," Soundwave agrees, hands running down Rodimus's sides. "I'm glad to be given this chance... Now." He leans in closer. "I believe you asked a question I didn't get to answer what was that again?"

Rodimus thumbs the mask loose to reveal Soundwave’s face beneath. His gaze sweeps over his bared features, greedy every time, and linger longest on the curve of Soundwave’s mouth as he speaks. He’s distracted as he admits, “No idea what question you mean,” and then ruins the chance of answer by kissing him.

Soundwave smiles under the kiss he gladly reciprocates. Because he knows he doesn't need to use his mouth to speak. << "You're my sweetspark," >> he tells Rodimus, hoisting him up and wrapping his arms around his thighs to hold him higher. << "Mine, mine, mine. All mine." >>

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