2016-06-28 No Chill
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Lost Light: Docks and Storage -- Shuttle Bay|
|Summary||Cynosure and Penchant have a heated little discussion in the empty shuttle bay.|
There is no escaping what comes out of nowhere. Just, bam. There it is, or rather, there she is. Cynosure, the cranky neutral from Cybertron that is not pleasant to anyone, and in particular she has decided to be less than kind to Penchant. Currently her finger is in Penchant's face, since she has cornered the little mech here in the shuttle bay.
"What the hell kind of massive scrap pile is this? You got some bearings on you, you know that? How could you have done this to us?! I was a fool to think you cared," Cynosure growls.
Oh, guess that is how she has chosen to say 'hello' by the way.
Penchant is just about to hop off shift, doing a round of the storage rooms. The shuttle bay is the last section to get a once-over. Empty, as it should be. The Rodpod 'stares' from afar. Penchant squints back at it, and turns into Cynosure's accusatory finger. "Gah! Smelt!" he curses, then returns the cross look, peering up. "I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about, Cynosure."
"Liar. Word is you're a mind reader like that bastard Soundwave, so you know *exactly* what I am thinking," she snaps, apparently unafraid to voice her concerns despite her accusations that they are being voiced without her consent. "Making that ~outsider~ speak for all of us is just damned insulting! That painted traitor ain't going to do anything more that lure many of my neutral brethren to the Autobots. And what, the arrangement is you recruit for the Cons on behalf of Soundwave?" Maybe Penchant wanted to end his shift quietly, but Cynosure is loud enough to be anything regarding considerate of that.
Penchant's optic twitches a little at the insult tossed towards his superior. "Soundwave is a Commander on this ship, and you'd do well to respect rank," he snaps. "Outsider... Windblade? She's a neutral like the rest of us! She's more than qualified to- I'm not going to explain this to you. What is it that you want, exactly, Cynosure? Because it just sounds like you want blood."
"I want justice!!!"
She practically screams this and right in Penchant's face. She tosses up her arms in frustration. "If you won't give me your support then I could have at least expected representation. Qualified huh?" Cynosure openly snorts at this. "How many wars has that painted charliton endured? None! how can she possibly understand what we have lived through and thus how can she speak for us?! My understanding is that even among her pitiful kind she was spared their hardships. How can she even begin to 'get' us?!"
Penchant wants to shout right back. He feels a bunch of scattered retorts bubbling in his intake, but they remain there as he stares, steely-optic'd. He remembers being this angry about certain topics. "Windblade is here to listen. She's good at bringing together thoughts and expressing them in a way that makes a difference," he says evenly. "She might be a colonist, but these colonists will be sharing our future. They absolutely have a say in these issues. You truly think I'm a liar, Cynosure? That I'm just some recruiter for the Decepticons?"
"Yes," she challenges, openly. Maybe even a little loudly. Anyone here even that might be listening? Cynosure is too busy glaring down at Penny to look around. "You made a mistake," she says like a threat. Her thoughts rather loudly go to immediate thoughts about her most loyal supporter; Rickshaw. "If these 'colonists' want in then they got to wait their turn. What was done to them, they did to themselves. They want what the Knights got, they need to wait until after Cybertron gets all it needs. *True* neutrals first," she glares extra hard, "Then Bots and Cons can squabble over the rest. How much you think your masters will leave for those colonists to lay claim to?"
"They're not my masters," Penchant grumbles. If only Skystalker were around to hear that! "True neutrals? Are you even hearing yourself? Cynosure, slag like this is what kept our war burning! You can't-" He pauses, struggling to collect his thoughts in the heated moment. The heel of his wrist grinds anxiously against one palm. "You can't keep spreading this hatred. You can't divide mechs the way you are, deeming one group truer than the other." He exhales steadily. "I understand why you're angry. I really do. If you know I'm a mind reader, then chalk it up to that, and take some comfort in it if you can. But we have to actually /reach/ the Knights before we can even think about what's going to happen to Cybertron afterwards. And reaching the Knights mean /staying alive/ on this ship."
"They're the ones that divided us!! Right down the middle! Split all of us right in half!" She is near hysterical with her own anger at this point. How can a self-proclaimed neutral not understand that, unless...! "You a spy? A plant, one if Soundwave's minicons operatives." Cynosure says it with the spoken clarity that comes with true revelation. She backs up several steps. "Hatred is what both factions poisoned us with, to the point now that is all we are." #factionism
Cynosure shakes her head as she backs up more. "They destroyed us with their war. Not all of you deserve salvation," she practically hisses. "When we do find the Knights, may we all see what judgment looks like."
Penchant loses just a little bit of his composure. Of all the things he'd envisioned defending... Cynosure doesn't know, she /couldn't/ know, she's just some bitter hate-mongerer with no sense! "I'm not a spy! Soundwave is a friend! Look amongst the badgeless, you'll find neutrals with factioned friends, a lot of 'em! It's why you're struggling to rally anyone!" Anyone but Rickshaw anyway. Penchant stands rigidly, glaring daggers up at the femme. He's given up on convincing her at this point, or is too pissed to bother. Probably not a great choice of words. "Get out of here before I call security," he growls.
Cynosure IS lacking in support. Rupture got himself caught and only Rickshaw listens to her. She can't argue with his logic so she has to back down, which means retreating. She says nothing more as she turns and leaves, letting Penchant have the last words. She believes him to be the type to dwell on his actions and words, where she is steadfast confident in her own, a confidence matched in her measured march away from him.