2016-07-20 Missing Pieces
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-07-20 Missing Pieces|
|Location||Lost Light - Recreation -- Oil Baths|
|Participants||Skydive, Blast Off|
|Summary||Two individuals are far more alike that first thought.|
Whirl owes Blast Off an oil bath spa treatment and the Combaticon can't wait. He wants to be pampered, preened and otherwise spoiled rotten until he shines with such luster even a sun would feel dim and ashamed. Yes, it's going to be glorious. Already anticipating the event, he makes his way down to the baths to survey the new amenities and start making plans. Maybe get in a quick soak or something while he's at it. Blast Off enters the room and stops, violet optics scanning the area to see what- and who- might be in here. If Quicksight is here he'll find another time to do this thing.
Skydive .. hasn't been doing so well as of late. Even though Air Raid had eased him before, the depression had begun to start creeping in, encroaching on his mind and making him fold back in on himself. While he usually wasn't the out and about sort to begin with, he found himself leaving his hab even less now and recharging far more than what was deemed healthy. He even missed some shifts, which was terribly unlike him.
Still, his brother's coaxing eventually drove him from his room. Find something to do and maybe get his mind off the incident for just a moment. The library was a tempting choice, but.. he wants to wallow. And so he does at the baths, sunken into one of the deep baths enough for the oil to stop just under his nose, optics closed and mind drifting.
At first it appears Blast Off is alone. Oh good. The shuttleformer steps in, fingers twitching with just a bit of excitement as he begins chalking up all the possibilities. He takes note of the scents and minerals, pausing to stick his face (faceplated, of course) in to partake of the various odors. Mmm, that gunmetal smell reminds him of the last galaxy he flew through. Yesss... this is going to be great. Lifting his head back up, he starts to turn to inspect another part of the baths when he finally spots that mostly submerged figure back there. Blast Off stops and stares... oh ..wait, is that Skydive? Having no idea if the 'bot wants to be left alone, he doesn't greet him just yet.
Skydive probably would have been like this all day if Blast Off didn't come in at that moment. The sound of movement stirs him from his drifting, shutters lifting and optics onlining dimly when flicking up to spot the Combaticon. ..He's thankful his faceplate is back on, that's one thing for certain.
"Oh, Blast Off, hello.." Skydive mutters, sitting up enough so he can talk. There's a visible slouch to his body and general malaise in his tone, not at all like his usual fix. "How have you been..? I see your mask has been repaired." Try to make polite conversation, Skydive..
Blast Off stares until Skydive speaks. Then flicking back to life, he straightens a bit, hand coming up to almost subconsciously touch said faceplate. "Uh... yes." He glances away as the room suddenly gets a bit warmer. "It... It was. Everything works fine now." Fingers trail along the gray plating down to his chin, which gets a rub of his pointer finger before he drops the hand back down again. He makes himself look back at Skydive. "I am well, simply taking a look at the improvements here." There's a pause before he remembers to ask, "How are you?"
Ah, the general 'how are you' question.. "I am..." Skydive begins, gaze falling to the lip of the bath, pensive. "..I'm unsure of how I am." He doesn't wish to bring the mood down, but he can't bring himself to force wellness. An oily hand rises to rub his cheek, brows pinching. "The world feels slower and the urge to recharge all day is constant.. Air Raid suggested I try and ease my worries by visiting the bath. ..So here I am. I suppose it's working, if only a little."
Blast Off feels very self-conscious of the face behind his faceplate right now and feels happy it's in place. His hand nudges the plate in front of the chin again, testing its firmness, before dropping down to hang by his side. He glances to the bath scents before stepping away and a little bit closer to Skydive, tilting his head slightly. "Depressed, then? Or simply in need of recharge from a rigorous schedule?" His hand reaches out to glide along a faucet rim, hooking around the tip and staring at it. "But yes, Air Raid is likely correct. Doing something to pamper oneself can be a rejuvenating treat from time to time." If only Whirl would get his aft in here and DO that for /him/ sometime. "It forces you to think, to be present here and now, to become aware of your physical existence and not just the mental one that gets a bit... far away and busy sometimes." He lifts an optic ridge. "Well, for me it does, at least. Your mileage may vary."
Skydive slumps back down in the tub as Blast Off starts to talk, that troubled look still painting him. "Perhaps the former.. Though I haven't felt such a thing in a very, very long time.." In fact, he can only recall one other time he's felt so down.
Wings downshift beneath the oil and he finally looks back to Blast Off, frowning. "...My pocket watch. I'm sure you've seen it. I.. I somehow misplaced it. I'm unsure how, but it's missing. If I may, would you.. please keep an eye out for it? I'm already starting to scour the ship and plan to report it."
"I... see." Blast Off frowns under that faceplate of his. Is Skydive still depressed about what Vortex did to him earlier? He *thought* the Aerialbot had moved on, but maybe... no wait. It's NOT Vortex this time. *Whew*. Good thing Vortex has nothing to do with a missing pocketwatch, right? Right! How embarrassing would THAT be? Blast Off's head tilts slightly more.
"I caught a glimpse of it... it seemed to be of excellent craftsmechship, though I only glimpsed it briefly. I take it meant a lot to you?"
"Immensely." Skydive says breathily and finally pulls himself up and out of the bath, having enough of his soak and taking to sitting on the edge. "I'm unsure who crafted it, but it was before the war as that is when I received it." Wings flick absently to free themselves of oil and he turns around to face Blast Off fully.
The more he speaks, the more the weight of depression begins to lift from him. It feels good to remember, to speak of the past. "My teacher, Altimeter, gifted it to me when I graduated the Aerial Corps. I've kept it in perfect condition ever since because.. it reminds me of better, simpler times, I suppose." There is something in his voice that tells there's more to that, but he keeps such thoughts to himself for now. "I'm just.. baffled it would disappear now, after so long.."
Blast Off watches as Skydive pulls himself up out of the bath, oil dripping down those wings, sliding with a slick caress all the way down that smooth surface...Uh. He blinks and shakes his head slightly. Um. "That is... odd. You're sure you didn't misplace it somewhere?" A black hand comes to scratch at the back of his helmet once more, shoulder turning to face Skydive at an angle as he leans against a bathroom wall. "Then again, if you kept it this long, then..." Hmm. His face pinches in thought.
Of course, Whirl was a watchmaker long, long ago. "I know someone who used to be an expert in such matters, perhaps I can ask him about it." He's not sure Whirl's ever spoken of being a watchmaker to many people, thus he does not offer the information now. "It's a shame to lose something that sounds that finely crafted, and after so long. Having something all that time..." The shuttleformer's violet optics flick over to Skydive, his expression softer than before. "I can... understand your distress. We need to hold on to the finer things, the culture, arts, and fine life, not lose them. We need those... reminders. Sometimes... we need to hold onto the past to face the future." Kind of like he clings to the high society he once belonged to. It's better than letting the gutter claim him.
"..Reminders. Yes." Skydive's appearance softens in turn, looking appreciatively to the Combaticon. At least he understands and doesn't mock him. He even offers to speak to another who may be able to assist, and to that he smiles. Weak, but it's there. "Thank you, Blast Off. That would.. mean a lot to me."
That said, he stands and takes up the absorbent cloth he'd brought with him, moving to wipe himself down and soak up any stray oil still clinging to his frame. Leaning over to clean his legs, he smirks up to the shuttleformer, feeling a bit better. "I only hope that it remain untouched. I would hate for it to be damaged. Though I suppose if that happens your friend could possibly repair it."
Reminders of things long gone by. Blast Off looks away for a moment, what's visible of his face betraying a wistfulness not becoming of a Combaticon, and he can't quite refrain from a soft sigh. "Yes. Reminders. Reminding us... who we are." He's not entirely speaking to the Autobot now, looking at some faraway corner of the galaxy. He returns quickly though, snapping his focus back on Skydive.
Giving the 'bot a nod, he adds, "Certainly. Well, if it disappeared on the ship then it must still be here." Maybe he can ask Swindle about it too, though he hates to even bring up the name because oh Primus, what if Swindle had something to do with its disappearance? Then again, even if the watch was valuable, stealing so visibly from fellow crewmates seems rather sloppy at this point in time. Though one question remains- why should he even care anyway? Perhaps it is one sophisticate helping another? "I shall keep an optic out. It seems fair given our fencing lessons and all. I do hope you shall be up for another spar sometime."
"Reminding us who we are... or were"
For once since the incident, Skydive emits a faint little laugh, tired but delighted. "You're eager for more? Well, I will say you had good energy during our little bout. I would very much like to, once this problem is settled, though I will have to be careful about making overeager swipes again.." Optics hang a beat on Blast Off's faceplate. "..I would ask why you wear it so often, but I think I understand why." Like how he always wears his glasses. It's protection, a shield.
Blast Off nods again, what's visible of his expression reflecting Skydive's in subtle measure. "Yes, I don't often get the chance to enjoy the more cultured things anymore... people dwell on war and fighting but not always the more... civilized activities. I enjoy keeping those skills alive, too." His nod suddenly stops as Skydive brings up- the FACEPLATE. He freezes, violet optics going slightly more pale as he stares awkwardly at the Aerialbot.
This lasts a moment before he straightens and forces himself to look away- somewhere, he doesn't care where, but not at Skydive. He blinks, then stares at that new random spot at a drier off on the far wall. "I..." Another blink. No one has ever brought up wearing the faceplate so often before. He does, and Skydive is right, but... His almost panicked look scrunches into a twitch and a frown as he suddenly gazes intently at the Aerialbot. His voice remains quiet but carefully controlled and a touch wary. "...You understand what?"
"That with just a single piece missing, you can feel completely undone.." Skydive mutters and looks off, his expression softening and smile dwindling to something ghostly. Longing. "Perhaps I am projecting my own thoughts onto you, forgive me." With an inward vent he tries to shake the angst that weighs him down and stands more surely, a hand gesturing to the baths. "Anyway, please don't let my worries interfere if you've come to bathe. I've had my fill and would rather sit out for now, if you would still like to talk."
Blast Off doesn't quite know how to respond to that. The Combaticon sort of gulps and looks away, fists clenching once and wing elevon twitching in discomfort before he forces himself to relax- or something like it. Skydive is too on the mark and the standoffish shuttle doesn't know how to deal with that. "Well... I-I don't know. Maybe." He gives a quick, uncomfortable shrug. "I'm a Combaticon, a warrior, I wouldn't know about being so...so weak. It's... it's simply habit is all. From millennia of being ready for war." He's lying through his dentae and he knows it, for once. Kind of. Actually... perhaps it's the truth, too- it is true it is habit and simply a good way to remain ready to fight, but... no, it's not the main reason he still wears it. He wears it for protection- but not from war.
The awkward silence continues for a moment as Blast Off suddenly finds a spigot nearby incredibly fascinating, even running his fingers along the rim. Then his gaze flickers and he looks back up. "It.. it is.. alright. Mistakes happen." Yeah. He glances to the baths, to Skydive standing there, dripping oil. Blink. He flicks his gaze back to the baths. "I... intend to make use of them. I won a bet and the reward involves ...this place." He sort of half grins suddenly under that faceplate. "I intend to collect on it."
Skydive and Blast Off are cut from somewhat similar cloth, in a way, so he can more or less gauge some of the shuttle's thoughts and mannerisms. Right now, however, he doesn't seem to want to press the subject further and allows it to drop in favor of lighter things. "If you do then I suggest some of the scented oils, they're a rather pleasant change to the usual scents of the ship. I'm partial to the red one." He tips his head briefly at the lineup of bottles. Anointments of such things weren't as common of a practice even in the time before the war and have since dropped from existence, so it's quite pleasant to have good smelling things around to break up the monotony of metal, oil, and grease.
Perching back on the lip of the tub, now drier than he was, Skydive politely crosses a leg over the other and rests folded hands upon his thigh, back straight. Looking to Blast Off with a more uplifted appearance, his mood shifting for the better now that he's in good company, he questions. "Have you visited Dunia yet? I've been.. tempted, but the weather doesn't appear all that favorable for flying down there."
Relieved that Skydive is letting the subject drop, Blast Off relaxes a slight bit himself. Slight bit. His hands loosen and he returns to absently stroking the spigot before letting it fall again and straighten up to take in the sight of the Aerialbot sitting there so serenely. He holds himself so well. There's an air of class to him that is rather attractiv- well in a purely academic, aristocratic sort of way, of course.
Shifting his weight to lean his hip against the wall, Blast Off tries to look casual. "No, I've been busy with work and haven't had a chance to go. May have to wait for the next planet, we'll see. Of course, I am not restricted to a mere planet for flying; the galaxy itself is my backyard. I can go anywhere I want, fly anywhere I wish." He sweeps a hand around them at an imaginary field of stars. "Besides, even when the ship is at rest, someone needs to keep an optic on things. Stay prepared for trouble," he taps at his faceplate, "And plot a course for our next stop. One must always stay prepared. Look before you leap. I expect you know this well, as a fellow sophisticate."
Skydive raises a hand to just brush his lips with the side of his hand to politely cover the slight, hummed laugh that dances in his vocoder. Blast Off seems to have a terrible habit of always reminding people of his space flight ability. It must be a shuttle thing. Still, he humors the mech and casts a kind, tamed smile his way. "Indeed. With you and the other space capables, we're in good hands. And I do understand about planning ahead. I'm rather guilty of doing that constantly." ..Except for all the time between losing the watch and now. He's at a loss for what to do and it feels weird. Anyway.. "About space, though.." He begins, tilting head slightly and quirking a little smile to the mech. "Perhaps you would take me out to see it sometime. A ride, if you're comfortable with that."
OH. WELL. Blast off likes it when people can /acknowledge/ that space alts are great. The shuttleformer visibly puffs up with pride as Skydive compliments his kind, much like a peacock who has realized he's gained an appreciative audience. His armor plates even fluff up a little and somehow a chirp or two can be heard. Maybe it's a squeaky gear somewhere, who knows. "Yes! Exactly." He relaxes more, for real this time, and leans back against the wall to roll the side of his helmet up so he can study the shower faucets hitched above. "It's a lot of hard work, I'm glad someone appreciates it."
Then he pauses, face shifting back down to look at Skydive. "...." Those violet optics flicker several times, some inner conflict roiling about, apparently. Optic ridges twitch as he mulls something over. ".... That... well I suppose we *are* teammates now, in a sense, and you might take a ride in me sometime anyway..." Wait, did that sound right? Uh. "...I-I ... well, yes, maybe. Sometime." He gives a short nod. "I... like showing people the... grandeur out there. It is rather... magnificent." Yet so lonely... usually.
Skydive feels the urge to laugh again at such a pavonine display, perhaps even comment on the subtle chirps, but he notices the Combaticon's change in mood at his ask for a ride and decides against it for now. "No rush, of course. Only if you're truly comfortable. I would not wish to push you into anything you didn't like." All in good time, dear Blast Off. You just take it at your own pace.
"But I would love to experience it first hand, sometime. It won't exactly be like flying with the lack of gravity, I imagine, but it will certainly be more interesting to be surrounded by it on a more personal level than from inside the ship."
"Indeed!," Blast Off agrees with more enthusiasm than he'd like, but can't quite snuff out in time. Pulling back just a bit from that embarrassingly effusive display, he still can't completely contain the sheer level of space nerd within. "It is. It's quite an experience. Rather a shame more cannot experience it on their own, but.." His cultured voice catches, his hand sweeping up before he adds, "If you'd like, you can even float out there for a bit with me close at hand, experience it and hear it yourself." He then hesitates, looking away. "Though I understand if you're not quite comfortable with that, either." It requires trust he won't just leave him there, of course.
The Combaticon gives the Aerialbot another short nod of the head, then shifts his weight, pushing away from the wall and dropping his hand into the other, clasped gently in font of him. He glances towards the door. "I.. think I've seen enough here for now. I should probably get going, work shift will come back around before I know it." His violet gaze turns back to Skydive. "I shall ask my friend if he knows anything about that watch, and arrange a time to meet again. For fencing, or space, or... some other bit of civilization."
"That would be..nice. I've experienced enough low gravity to understand the feel of floating out there, so it should be delightful." As his name implies, Skydive is quite good at.. well, skydiving. He's gone to lengths to even space dive, a unique feeling, so that floaty feeling isn't all together foreign to him. Plus, he does trust Blast Off not to leave him there. That would be so very uncouth.
Standing when Blast Off leaves the wall, he casually moves towards him and smiles lightly, feeling more like himself. "Of course, don't let me keep you. Thank you for staying and talking, though, Blast Off. It has.. helped me. I appreciate it." Digits twitch, unsure for a moment, before he gives in and touches the tips ever so faintly to the shuttle's clasped hands. It's a thankful gesture, however brief. "I look forward to next time, whatever it may be. As for me.. I believe a little buffing would do me good." He's mostly been wallowing in his room, so a polish will help his psyche relax. "Have a pleasant shift, Blast Off." Smile growing and a polite nod given, Skydive takes his leave through the doors to the body shop.
Blast Off stiffens as Skydive approaches him and that hand comes for him. His optics go from their neutral violet color to something a bit more pale, but he doesn't move. His ventilation cycles grow more shallow, then hitch as he's touched. He forces himself not to move, not to twitch. He's still getting used to people, still getting used to the idea that a former enemy moving towards him is not an aggressive thing, or a dangerous one, but actually an expression of solidarity. He's spent so much time alone, or time with other Combaticons, it's still ingrained in him to keep up those walls. faceplate and otherwise.
When the hand is removed, Blast Off can breathe again. "...Uh, yes." He coughs softly, head tilting slightly to the side. Helping someone simply by... talking to them? Again, more unfamiliar things to mull over. And yet, somehow, it seems like it brings a sense of ease back to him. "My.. pleasure." That seems the polite thing to say. "We sophisticated mechs should ..."The word seems strange, "...*help* each other." The Combaticon watches him leave, adding, "You too, Skydive," before heading out the door himself.