Actions

2017-07-30 FUNeral

From Transformers: Lost and Found

FUNeral
Date 2017/07/30
Location Lost Light - Recreation -- Observation Deck
Participants Conduit, Cosmos, Galaxy Shuttle, Glaze, Hunker, Lieutenant, Prowl, Rodimus, Soundwave, Tailgate, Whisper
Summary Post-funeral wake for !cassettes. Lost Light style.

Walls, windows, and floors have been repaired and the damage done by Unicron's attack erased. Everything looks just a touch spare: some walls are still bare, yet to be repainted, and the lighting fixtures aren't all covered, and the covers don't all match. Compared to the rest of the ship, however, it looks almost elegantly plain, simple, spare, with the immense view of Rigard's rolling savannah stretching to the horizon.


The ceremony itself was in space because burying them didn't sit right with Soundwave. It had been small and somber, the Act of Transition- neglecting any mentions of Primes- spoken over the two very, very tiny coffins. The coffins themselves didn't actually have bodies within them, Soundwave made sure those were withheld to help !Rumble and !Frenzy or any others in the future. He's sure its what the !cassettes would have wanted.

With the ceremony finished, there'd been a long moment of silence. The time when those closest to the !cassettes could speak- Soundwave decided to remain quiet and instead took it upon himself to take the caskets to the air locks. Anyone who came along got to watch the tiny coffins carrying only red Decepticon badges float off into space. Perhaps out there, they'll have more peace than they did in their last moments.

Once the coffins were out of sight, those who attended the ceremony were brought back to the Lost Light for the wake. It's about as lively as a wake can be, but there's some energon that's gotten lukewarm in the time it took for them to return along with a few, small oil cakes and other energon nibbles. All on a table in the middle of the Observation room. There's no ambient sound outside of shuffling steps or maybe a few dry coughs and murmurs. It's a good thing no one advertised this as FUN, right?

Soundwave took a seat by one of the broad windows of the deck, visor dull as he stares out at nothing in particular. His shoulder bow as if a terrible weight pushes them down, giving the usual straight edge box a bit of a melancholy sag. He hasn't really spoken during the event- though the usually purple badge currently, painstakingly, made gray for the event ought to say enough for him. Its his first funeral, he doesn't much like how it feels.

"Hey." Rodimus knocks Soundwave's arm with the edge of a cube of lukewarm energon in offer. Drink. He keeps his owm metal -- and his own thoughts -- carefully held back, only bonking with the cube. He has another cube for himself in hand, already half-emptied. He has yet to shed the cape that's clearly a necessary and important piece of funerary regalia, but at least he hasn't gotten tangled in it, tripped over it, or pinched the fabric in the joints of his armor. All due dignity. As cool as he might imagine the cape looks -- and it might be kind of awesome in some other context -- it's also literally and metaphorically an uncomfortable weight, and he itches with the need to free a hand to loosen it. "How're the rest of your cassettes doing?"

Conduit 's countenance belies his mood, as is appropriate for this venue. Externally, he is somber - this isn't difficult for him to pull off, and under the circumstances, it is still earnest. Internally, he is of two other moods: happy that he is returned to his proper frame and reunited with his nanites; and furious at the death of these two !Decepticons. Conduit has permitted himself not to think too deeply about whether the dead are more akin to Autobots than "real" Decepticons; their murder was needless, purposeless, and this is an offense to Mortilus in any universe.

Conduit quietly approaches Soundwave, and reaches to place a hand upon his shoulder. "I grieve for them. Although it is not our loss, I feel it for those who cannot. I am here for your needs." In fact, Chimera would be a much more capable counselor here, but Conduit is inspired enough to step up as much as he can.

It doesn't matter that this is a funeral for Decepticons, not just because they are Decepticons from the other universe, but also because, Decepticons or not, they are still dead, pawns killed for the sake of someone else's wants. Sound familiar? It does to Glaze. Far, far too familiar. He may be an Autobot, but someone has to honor the dead, and their own kind isn't here.

Now that the ceremony is over, he's found himself a spot on one of the benches, head thrown back on the back of the seat as he stares at the celling. He's not too fond of Soundwave, but he's understanding of how he must feel, and it seems that the mech has enough people around him right now. No need to crowd. Instead, he'll just stick to his own thoughts, slowly sipping his energon as he mutters, to no one in particular "What's the point of all this?"

Cosmos has his own badge darkened in somber respect for the ceremony and watched from the back as the tiny coffins were sent out to space. part of him wanted to fly out there, make sure the coffins would be safe as they drifted through the stars but no... there's something else that he needs to do. Leaning against the wall, a glass of that lukewarm energon in his hands but far too roiling with sadness to drink it, Cosmos glances across the room at where Soundwave is sitting and chatting with some others. He will wait for their conversation to end before he approaches, imagining Soundwave might not want to be swarmed with others at the moment. But thats alright, Cosmos is patient.

The whole series of dangerous encounters has been heavy on everyone, but after the first real casualty, things seemed to hit Tailgate with considerably more weight. They aren't from the right world, but somehow being able to give them quiet now feels-- right? The minibot has been rather quiet and has been there for the service out of respect, following where he needed to be to pay his respects, and now milling in silence with the others with only a murmur here and there to break his own. Though he's apart from Soundwave and the others that now talk to him, he keeps an optic on them behind his blue visor, a color usually bright now dimmed for the sake of manners. He'll wait to say something to Soundwave, and even now he's not sure what to say. So instead, he stands to peer out the corner of the window with his hands curled around a cube of energon he has opened and not touched.

<FS3> Galaxy_Shuttle rolls Hiding: Good Success. (5 6 4 5 4 7 5 7 7) 
<FS3> Hunker rolls Wallflower: Good Success. (8 1 4 5 6 7 2)

Galaxy Shuttle has finally gained the confidence to venture out of the shuttle bay and explore his new posting... sort of! He's careful to pick a holoform that is small and unlikely to draw attention, a turbofox, as he weaves his way through the corridors. Hopefully, no one will think of it as anything more than someone's loose pet! The holoform scurries through hallways that Galaxy Shuttle is much too large to fit through, not without using the mass shifting he hates so much, at amazing speeds. Whenever he sees someone coming down the hallway towards him, he is sure to duck and dodge into hiding!

Thus far, he's explored a good portion of the ship without being noticed. Being new, though, the shuttle has no idea about the wake happening in the observation deck (or most of the events leading up to it). All he knows is he turns the corner into a new room, and suddenly there are throngs of people! The turbofox holoform freezes stock-still in the doorway, hoping no one will notice him. Somanypeople.

Whisper has been a quiet presence throughout the funeral -- what else? -- and now, afterwards, continues to be a quiet presence. Her gravity is hued gently with uncertainty, though, as she drifts closer to some of the others. Like Cosmos, she does not move to swarm the bereaved. She stands, her hands folded neatly before her, her wingspan angled in a slight downward skew.

This funeral is...difficult. Soundwave isn't the only one who's attending a wake for the first time, though Hunker at least knew well enough to be one of those darkening his badge in respect for the deceased. He, too, has lukewarm energon in his hands, something to occupy them and, in turn, keep him occupied. He's been keeping to himself, wanting to say something to Soundwave but, unlike the others, not holding back because he's waiting his turn. No, he doesn't feel he has the right to approach Soundwave about matters outside of work. This is too...personal for a mere MTO to dally with a commanding officer.

Instead, Hunker ends up by the wall, and Cosmos, as he nurses his energon and watches Rodimus and Conduit with Soundwave. Being near the quiet spacer is comforting, as he doesn't feel like he has to come up with something to say just yet. Maybe soon.

If Soundwave still had a spoiler, it might have twitched when Rodimus speaks. With a heavy vent, the Decepticon Commander draws himself up and refocuses his optics. The dull red doesn't brighten, however. "Some did not wish to come. Others..." He touches the glass of of his chassis, which is quietly humming with activing. Full deck today. To cease the bonking, he accepts the offered cube. He doesn't drink from it.

Soundwave stiffens with Conduit's touch, pulling his armor in closer. "It is our loss." His synthesizer is still damaged, he can still properly emphasize words with pitch rather than flat volume. He vents, a finger tapping his cube lightly. Then, with more interest coloring his somber voicer, "And what needs do you assist in, Conduit?" He's aware of others in the room. All the optics on him make him feel more tense.

<FS3> Cosmos rolls Observer: Great Success. (1 8 4 5 2 8 6 8 7)

Glaze takes another sip from his cube before finally pushing himself away from the bench back to lean forward, resting an elbows on his lap for a moment. The war is over, and yet there is just more death, the Cybertronian curse it seems. Finally, he lifts his head to look around, to see how the others are reacting to this...and he sees someone he had not seen before. Curious, he tilts his head at the turbofox in the doorway "Hello, are you lost?"

Cosmos glances over at the box that ends up near him, offering a sad smile towards the nervous mech, "Hey Hunker..." The smile fades but the sad, gentle, tone remains, "You ok?" It doesnt escape the spacer how he seems to be avoiding the others and Soundwave, probably onlt ending up near him by chance.

onk. Bonk bo-- oh, okay, no bonking. Cube passed off, Rodimus seems satisfied even if Soundwave doesn't drink. It's there. Tipping his head in the direction of Soundwave's dock sort of like a hello, he says, "Let me know if you need anything." His gaze lifts to Soundwave's at the last, eyes narrowing in a muted sort of smile: dampened in sympathy. Then he pivots, not necessarily abandoning Soundwave to the observers so much as he's wading out to intercept a few. "Hey, thanks for coming," he tells the collection busily reinforcing the walls. It's a sensible precaution. One never knows just how much damage Unicron has done to them.

Conduit is surprised at Soundwave's reaction. The communicator's coupling with these alternate cassettes is stronger than anticipated. Already, he feels he has over-reached, both metaphorically and physically, and he draws his hand back. "In processing ... our loss. Coming to terms with their passing. I ... shall avail myself of you when you wish it." Conduit backs away. There are others who wish to speak with him, after all. Yes, best to stand aside.

Whisper lifts her head and with it, her wings. Her visored gaze steady on Rodimus for a moment, she says -- her voice a hush, barely audible over the general murmur of the party: "I mourn for any slave who only finds freedom this way."

Hunker wouldn't have thought his nerves were that clear, though maybe he hasn't really noticed how he's doing that slow shuffle from one foot to the next that he does when he's anxious. Cosmos apparently notices, as he's asking Hunker how he's doing. There's a moment where Hunker simply looks at him, expression unreadable as he tries to figure out why Cosmos would be asking him if he's alright. Shouldn't that be a question for Soundwave?

"As alright as I can be," he settles on eventually in answer, figuring that sounds neutral enough. "This is tough for everyone, I think. Especially the commander." Hunker tips his helm in Soundwave's direction. Rodimus gets in the way of the gesture, and Hunker immediately stiffens in posture, which. Isn't all that different from how he normally stands. Boxes aren't really flexible.

"Um." Good one, Hunker. "You're welcome, Captain. Sir." Unlike certain Decepticon MTOs on this ship, Hunker's respect for authority extends to all of the command staff, even if he's not very happy about some of said staff being Autobots. At least Rodimus isn't anymore? Whisper's comment gets an agreeing nod as Hunker falls silent again.

Okay, okay. Tailgate knows there's a chance he'll be expected, but maybe Soundwave isn't listening to them all right now. He sets his cube down somewhere on the table before heading over towards where Soundwave stands on steady steps, examining the Decepticon stiffness even in his mourning.

"I'm sorry, Soundwave." And in his own fashion, Tailgate's comfort comes in the form of an attempted hug around the larger mech's legs, not unlike the clinging he had done a long time ago when he thought Ultra Magnus had died-- his spark is rightly in it.

Cosmos is about to respond to Hunker when the Captain comes over, frown growing under his mask, "... I hope we won't have to come to many more." Cosmos gloomily responds. We've all seen way too many funerals and deaths... he also thirds Whisper's comment, raising his glass slightly in something of a morose toast to that.

<FS3> Cosmos rolls Noticed: Failure. (2 5)

Me too," Rodimus says, not quite managing Whisper's soft-voiced dignity in her answer, yet spark-felt all the same. "They deserved better than this. All of them deserve better," he says, looking between them. "We won't let the rest of them stay bound, I promise."

Soundwave nods as Rodimus leaves, now turning to gaze at Conduit with the Captain gone. His visor flashes. He wishes to help him come to terms? There's only one way that can happen. Vengeance- no, wait, Justice. Definitly justice. "I will remember your offer," he says as blandly as he can manage without a synthetic monotone.

Soundwave hears Whisper's... Whisper and melancholy embers burst into angry flames within him. He's about to rise and put in his own word on the subject of freeing the !Decepticons when his legs are held captive. He looks down at Tailgate. Tiny Tailgate. The tense grip on his cube stops threatening to shatter it. "... Thank you, Tailgate," he says softly, reaching out to pat his helm.

After a few moments, the panic Galaxy Shuttle experiences at seeing so many mecha begins to ebb just enough for him to think. If he can just reformat to a more inconspicuous holoform and slip past all these mecha he can continue his explorations! They all seem to be rather preoccupied, anyways. He's not sure what about, but it looks like it will work to his advantage.

The edge of the holoform begins to fuzz as Galaxy Shuttle prepares to do just that. He doesn't get the chance to finish up when he hears a voice talking to him! "W-what?" the turbofox says, breaking the illusion. "N-no! I'm just looking. I didn't mean to b-bother you all," he starts to say. Galaxy Shuttle is having a little trouble holding himself together. Literally. The holoform fuzzes again, starting to sink through the floor like it wants to disappear.

Soundwave's generous response is heard, and Conduit nods sadly as he retreats. Flustered, he makes his way over to the table of lukewarm energon and hastily grabs a cube. He truly thought he could be a help for this, a funeral, nearly a manifestation of Mortilus himself! He supposes he was thinking more of himself than of Soundwave, of the bereaved, of the actual fact of unjust death before him. Serves him right. After a moment's consideration, he replaces the cube on the table and moves to a solitary location, where he calms himself and begins to meditate in a standing position. If there is a proper role for him here, he should discover it with a neutral clarity.

Whisper watches Tailgate and Soundwave with a bare flicker of surprise showing in her visor, but her nod is solemn, and she seems to feel that she has said enough, for she adds nothing more, but stands still and quiet.

Prowl decides that he isn't, in fact, late, and strides onto the deck looking mildly distracted. Eventually the nature of this gathering catches up to him, tainting his neutral expression with vague annoyance. He makes his way over to Soundwave as Tailgate offers sympathy.

"My condolences for..." Pause. "Shocktalk and... cat," he offers dryly. It's clear there are many, many other things he wants to say. Surely nothing consoling. "May your grief pass swiftly." Get over it, Soundwave, god.

There was once a time where Tailgate was definitely intimidated by Soundwave, but that hasn't been for some time. Not after seeing how much he cared about his cassettes and the others on board, even if his manner wasn't always the best. And now is a reminder of that for the minibot, having watched the ceremony and after, as it were. He touches his helm against Soundwave's leg in his embrace, and the weight of a hand on top of his head lets his spark warm again. One more squeeze of legs come before Tailgate loosens his grip and looks up. "I know we didn't know them but... we'll do right by them, okay?" But maybe less revenge and more justice.

Unfortunately he has let go in time to watch PRowl, a face he recognizes only vaguely, come up and stumble through-- whatever that was. Tailgate manages to barely hold back a dumbfounded loo, but maybe he's just-- bad at comforting? Or something? Yeah. That sounds right.

"Do you have a plan?" Hunker asks, unthinkingly, and startles at his own boldness. "Sir." Gotta be deferential and all that, even as he leans forward slightly toward Rodimus. He wants to free the !Decepticons as much as any of the 'Cons on this ship, and if the captain has an idea in mind...he'll do anything he can to help.

Whisper stares at Prowl.

The turbofox begins to flicker and...talk. Glaze looks down at his cube. No, he's hasn't drunk that much yet. That's...a holoform, isn't it? Why is soeone using it on the ship?

"No, no, you're not a bother." Glaze bends down to be more on the 'fox's' level, though he doesn't approach "Though you are a little late to the ceremony" he lifts his head to look back at Soundwave and... well, speaking of late, huh? The ex-medic scoff at Prowl's 'condolences'. Of course such blatant ingenuiness would come from someone like that.

<FS3> Conduit rolls Spirituality: Great Success. (7 4 6 7 7 2 7 6 4 1)

Cosmos is about to say something else to the Captain and Hunker but catches Prowl's 'condolences' from their spot... and all he can do is join Whisper in staring, his visor filled with disbelief. Oh my Primus... its Squawktalk and Howlback!, but he doesn't say anything even though he really wants to correct the disrespect. How is he supposed to say anything to Prowl of all mechs?

"Still gathering intel," Rodimus says to Hunker, grimacing. His least favorite part of a plan: making it. "We don't know much about their base, or defenses, but we know they can be defeated. They might be stronger one on one, but we've beat them before, we'll beat them again." His confidence in the crew is quiet and certain rather than a loud, arrogant boast. He saves those for himself; when it comes to the crew, his faith is something more certain. It doesn't need a boast. He might go on, but the way Whisper and Cosmos come to attention causes him to look back, at which point he catches the tail end of Prowl's words. His eyes glint in a sharper look; his spoiler pricks as he straightens. (He's trying to make himself look bigger, clearly. It's not working.)

There have been deaths. They were for no purpose, other than to cause pain and suffering. This Conduit is sure of. From these first conclusions, Conduit allows himself to further contemplate, truly understand, take in the wisdom of those around him and weave it with that of Mortilus, as he can understand it. After a moment, he feels he is beginning to truly comprehend these deaths. Soon, he discovers his role in this trying time, and he onlines his optics once more just as Prowl speaks. Whereas before he would have stepped forward, now he waits, and lets the shadows nearby observe along with him.

The holoform's pedes scramble at the floor desperately, managing to catch his 'fall' before he sinks all the way through. Galaxy Shuttle has to focus all of his energy on making the light semi-solid once more, the fuzzing fading to just a brief flicker. He's left with his hindquarters still phased through the floor, dangling down into the hallway below, but that's a small concern in the face of so many people. Somanypeople.

"Ceremony?" Galaxy Shuttle repeats. Oh no! He interrupted something important. This is so embarrassing. "I-I'm sorry. New, and..."

Soundwave's newly repaired neck cables tighten. "We will," he confirms for Tailgate, conviction in his voice. He almost sounds like he's going to continue with that line of thought. Possibly outlining how they will be doing so- plenty of revenge, sorry Tailgate- but he's cut short. Prowl's presence tastes like stale rust.

Soundwave stands suddenly, stiffly, turning and making a physical effort that Prowl knows he has to look down to see the Autobot. The light in his visor dims. "Squawktalk and Howlback," he corrects, no monotone to ensure the growl stays out of his voice. "I intend for it to be quick. For it will pass as soon as Rodimus is dead." Beat. "The other one." Obviously.

Hunker looks down at his lukewarm energon as Rodimus speaks. Gathering intel...but otherwise nothing. It's something, even if it's a disappointing something. Who knows what other !Cons could die in the time it takes to gather itel...? Again, Hunker doesn't speak up, knowing it's not his place to question.

Which is why he remains silent when Prowl's 'consoling' reaches their little group, even as Hunker joins in on the staring. His plating ruffles, once, a slow and even bristle that settles after a moment. To speak to Soundwave with such disrespect, when the mech is clearly in mourning! Hunker's fingers tighten on his cube enough to make it crack, ever so slightly. Thankfully, Soundwave can clearly take care of himself, judging by his response.

Whisper turns her gaze to Soundwave for a lingering moment. Her disapproval is mild, the hard set of her jaw reflecting it. Her quiet dignity and loyalty are such that that it is visible at all becomes unusual. Her visored gaze returns to Prowl. She resumes glaring.

"Squawktalk and Howlback," Prowl repeats readily. "That's what I said." The talk of dead Rodimus makes him blink. He barely registers the last bit that clarifies it. "Hm. We'll handle them one way or another. I think you should lay low. My understanding is the latter cassette's death could've been prevented. Anyway. Buck up." He turns on a heel and moves towards that refreshments tablet, totally oblivious to everyone staring at him. OR IS HE.

Tailgate lingers near Soundwave as he turns to Prowl, and though he has let go of the hug his presence is there just behind. His arms are down, one hand on his hip and the other hanging loose; the baby blue visor remains on Prowl out of curiosity and a little bit of wonder-- he can't quite get a read on that one. Rather than offer a commentary on what Prowl says(which is mostly right?), Tailgate lifts a hand to touch Soundwave's arm reassuringly before he steps away.

As soon as Rodimus is dead. On the one hand: same! On the other hand: for just the beat of a moment, Rodimus is intensely disoriented. He has to forcibly pull his thoughts from tangling too deeply with those of his alternate self, and his farewell to Hunker, Cosmos, and Whisper is awkward at best, distracted: "Let you know when we're ready to move, yeah?" Okay bye. He moves to intercept Prowl at the cakes, growing more focused with every step. "Seriously?" he asks in an undertone.

"Yes, there's no need to apologise" shaking his head at Prowl, Glaze looks back at the turbofox "A funeral, for - I'm not sure if you've heard of our encounters with versions of ourselves from another universe, or so it's said. The two we're honoring here were casettes there, and were killed by their version of Ro- excuse me for a moment." he lifts his head towards Prowl again, his visor narrowing "You would atleast do well to show some respect at a wake!" no, he is not going to stand such blatant disregard for curtesy here!

<FS3> Conduit rolls Dark Aspect: Success. (5 3 8 2 5 4 3 1)

Conduit doesn't hesitate, but casually ambles back to the table to retrieve his own cube of energon. His biolights stream evenly in contrast with his dark blue armor. He solemnly picks up a cube in front of him, considering it with turns of his wrist, feeling the shades behind him considering it as well. He wishes not to get into Prowl's grill, or obstruct Rodimus in any way, but simply be there; a dark spot on the clean, repaired observation deck, a reminder of the reason for the gathering.

Cosmos watches as Prowl walks away, still frowning, before giving Hunker a small nod in place of a proper goodbye and approaching Soundwave now that the mech has fewer around. Its only when he starts getting close that the UFO realizes... he doesnt actually know what the heck he is going to say that hasn't already been said. He feels the distinct urge to stop and actually figure out what to do but by the time it comes over the mech is far too close to the Decepticon to bow out. Well frag what now.... Frag it, I can't do worse than Prowl.

Walking up, Cosmos hesitates only a second before gently but firmly putting a hand on Soundwave's arm, "I... I'm sorry for what happened... and Prowl being an aft." No one tell him he called him an aft. "I would offer you a hug but doubt you'd want a not so cute and small Autobot hanging off you... Can I buy you a drink later? You know, harder than this stuff." He raises his glass in a weak demonstration, "It helps. Probably not in the way Rung would say is healthy, but still."

A funeral?! Galaxy Shuttle did not realize until this moment he could become more horrified, but it turns out its possible. Think quickly! What do people do at funerals? He doesn't want to be even more rude. The turbofox holoform disappears completely, making it seem like Galaxy Shuttle has abandoned the scene all together, until he reforms in his usual holoform a moment later. It's nothing special, just a smaller version of himself in alt mode.

The holoform's expression is ludicrous, though. Light bleeds from the visor in an over-exaggerated fashion. Crying! Crying is what people do at funerals. With how hard it looks like he's crying right now, certainly no one can call him rude, right? "O-oh," he mutters. To be honest he kind of just wants to cry, anyways, even without the excuse of the funeral.

Prowl turns around with an oil cake in hand, looking rather caught in the headlights. "What?" He looks from Rodimus to Glaze, and back. Did Rodimus get taller. "He's- what?" He asks again, bewildered. "It's fine. He's fine." He gestures with his free hand. Look how fine Soundwave is. He's even got that green saucer draped on his arm.

Lieutenant would have reminded Prowl of the names of the !cassettes lost, or to try being a little more respectful. Neither occurs as he goes through his files in an attempt to gather more questions to have answered. He's only been here out of respect and watching Prowl. That's all, ignore the avian listening in on everything as he pretends to continue reading.

Rodimus' goodbye is awkward, but Hunker can't blame him. And then Cosmos is gone too, off to comfort Soundwave. Hunker watches a moment, sipping carefully from his cube so as not to crack it more, before he lets his gaze slide across those assembled. He purposefully doesn't look at Prowl, and is, in fact, relieved when he spots a more comfortably familiar face.

Moving through the room, Hunker makes his way to Galaxy Shuttle's side, reaching to touch the holoform. "You, uh, you alright, Rob?" Hunker wouldn't have thought an Autobot would be so upset at the death of !cassettes, and he's touched to see Galaxy Shuttle crying even if, well. It's the same exaggerated way that holoform does any expression.

"No, no it is not fine!" Glaze stands up from his seat. Sorry, Galaxy. He does want to talk to you, but he'll be dammed if he doesn't speak out against this "You march in here an hour late, don't even know the names of the deceased, and brush it off when someone corrects you!" his hand swings out to the side, as if demonstrating what Prowl did "I don't care that these are Decepticons and that's Soundwave, people are dead, and you are completely out of touch!"

Soundwave stiffens further. If he does so anymore, he might as well become a permantent statue in the Observation room. They could have been prevented, its his fault. It- no! No, !Rodimus killed them, that's not his fault. He did not do that. A growl starts to rise and he's about to set Prowl straight. Few things make Soundwave as emotional as the well-being of his cassettes. (Outside of the Cause, of course.)

But before he could do anything, he's taken by a strong stream of memories. Rodimus's, from his time with his own Counterpart. Torture, !Squawktalk's death, a glimpse into !Rodimus's own thoughts. Soundwave lingers on this until Tailgate gives him another reassuring pat. His optics refocus and look down at Cosmos. When did he get there?

"Hugs, not my preference... And I do not drink. That will not help." Soundwave sounds distracted as he speaks, mind somewhere else. "Your concern is noted, Cosmos. Thank you." He pauses briefly, looking to where Rodimus went and the... commotion. His look flattens. "Cosmos, do you believe losing a loved one for taking a loved one is a fair exchange?"

Tailgate doesn't know the guy, but it's clear Rodimus does. Glaze's tiny burst earns a somewhat approving glance, and then he keeps going. It earns a slightly less approving one then, but Tailgate seems to be okay with it given the way he crosses his arms and plants his feet to watch. Continue, Glaze. As you were.

Rodimus exchanges a glance with Glaze, the twist of his lips sympathetic -- yet he makes a gesture, palm down and pressing lower. "Look," he says, voice low and measured, "Prowl was a total aft--" Yes, Prowl, he's talking about you like you aren't literally right there. "--but let's save the list of reasons why he sucks exhaust for some other time, okay? This isn't the right time or place." He doesn't look back at Soundwave, but it doesn't take much to guess where his attention is weighted.

Cosmos lets go of Soundwave's arm, frowning. Welp, that was all he's got to offer. Back he goes to the wall, shame filled for- wait what? Conduit slides himself back over near to Soundwave, but not to speak with him again, but just to be nearby, as support even if he never needs or wants it. He sips the warm energon after a moment of thought for the deceased, and continues his observations.

When Glaze turns away, Galaxy Shuttle decides he must be doing the right thing! If no one is paying attention to him, crying must be the way to go unnoticed at a funeral! The holoform finally steps into the room and starts to scoot along the wall. The whole time he keeps up the act. He gets only a couple of steps, though, before a more familiar face moves to intercept him. Out of instinct, Galaxy Shuttle leaps a little when Hunker speaks to him. He doesn't stutter quite as much in his answer, though. "I thought people were supposed to cry at funerals?" he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. He's trying his best to fit in.

But before he can say anything else, the stranger who first noticed him starts to walk across the room and shout. The holoform's optics widen, still bleeding light. Unable to help himself, he starts to mimic what the other people are doing. "Are we supposed to s-shout?!" he asks. He didn't know about this part! He's never heard about angry shouting at funerals. He looks around in confusion.

Prowl studies Glaze for a long moment. There's a nagging urge to argue, but Rodimus manages to distract him effectively. No aggression is drawn, not openly anyway, but Prowl keeps his unnerving attention on the Captain. And menacingly bites into that oil cake. "I prefer to issue my more sparkfelt condolences in private. I'll send something to Soundwave later," he says to the two of them, eventually.

Prowl is not an aft, simply blunt, Captain. Lieutenant wants to counter but keeps to himself. But Rodimus is right, it's not the time to be at one another's throats- namely Prowl's. Two !cassettes died, and technically half of two others did as well, so their focus should be more on the sobering side. He does raise an optic at the haloform though. Clearly that one has never been to a funeral as there is indeed occasional shouting.

Hunker's attention, too, is drawn by Glaze's outburst. His expression hardens slightly in a sort of determined support. It's odd to be grateful to an Autobot, but right now he is. Thank you for saying what everyone else wanted to say, Glaze.

"No, we're not supposed to shout," he replies. "He's just callin' out that mech for bein' an aft. Not the best time for it, but he ain't wrong." Hunker glances back toward Prowl, Rodimus and Glaze once more, then settles his optics firmly on Galaxy. "I don't think crying is required, though. You don't have to cry if you don't feel like cryin'."

Glaze does not look at all satisfied by Prowl's response, but Rodimus' gesture is enough to subdue him as well "My apologies, Captain, Soundwave. You are correct. With a small nod to the later he turns around to return to his former spot, though, after a moment's consideration, he proceeds on towards the holoform "My apologies about that. Some mechs simply have no respect for the dead" he shakes his head, before offering a nod of aknowledgement to the latest Arrival "Hunker, it's good to see you again.

Rodimus gives Glaze a not-very-covert thumbs up for stepping up -- and also for stepping back. Then he turns back to Prowl, bland in the face of that menacing bite. "I didn't know you were capable of anything sparkfelt." His voice is low, friendly! BANTER. His smile is just a lil' sharp at the edges. His wors don't carry that far, and what does carry is largely a light tone. "Sure you don't need like an operational guide to it?" He mimes a gesture, as though outlining a flow chart in how to fake sympathy. "It'd be super awkward if you confused a note of sympathy and a declaration of war."

Cosmos lets go of Soundwave's arm, frowning. Welp, that was all he's got to offer. Back he goes to the wall, shame filled for- wait what? What does he- The alternate Rodimus. Both hands gripping his glass, the UFO's visor falls to the floor, "That's... If you mean do I think killing for revenge is ok? No, not really. If I believed that was alright I would probably still be fighting you all." He lost a lot of friends (or at least those he considered friends) to the war, just like everyone else, "But I also don't think injustices should go unpunished or ignored... so I guess about now it would be a grey area." Visor still lowered but glancing at the nearby chaos, Cosmos takes a sip of the energon but decides its best not to take a second drink- lukewarm energon is... eh... "With all of this though... I say kick other Rodimus' aft. But don't let this cloud your judgement, with how things are it seems like we need our wits about us."

Tailgate watches the scene quietly, and when he crosses the room towards where Glaze has headed, he gives Rodimus a tiny thumbs-up as he passes by. They are a very thumbs-up crew, huh? He moves on to come up alongside Glaze, reaching up to tap at his elbow. "At least one of us had the gumption to say it. Thanks for that. Hey guys." His greeting extends to those near Glaze, now, and the holoform in particular gets a small squint.

Cosmos is wonderful at being morally grounded. Lieutenant's fins twitch at his statements, proud for his friend. He doesn't vocally agree, but he absolutely agrees with Cosmos. Now back to reading and waiting for this all to be over so he could nab some of the goods at the table.

So far Hunker has been understanding of Galaxy Shuttle, enough so that he decides to trust him in this. The holoform bites its lip to stop anymore shouting, his optics locking on the ground. The shuttle gives a slight nod to signal that he understands. He even dials down the crying, just a little bit! A few ribbons of light still bleed from the edges of his visor, but now it's just enough to look believable. "This is so... much? S-sorry, next time I'll do better," he promises. If he can remember what to do next time there's a funeral!

Thankfully, glancing at the ground as he is, he fails to notice Tailgate's sharp glare (or to note Glaze's rearrival until the last moment). It prevents him from having time to panic again.

Whisper does not raise her thumbs. She is still watching, her lips thin and pressed tight, her visored gaze tracking Prowl with the kind of disturbing intensity of unbroken attention.

Prowl bristles, finally. "I'll manage. I seem to recall you promising you'll find a cure for my personality on your holy mission. This is all on you, Rodimus." He lingers, for some reason, door wings flicking. His optics narrow on Lieutenant from afar, and Whisper in turn, then back to the captain. "Your crew has grown..."

Soundwave hums as he considers Cosmos's words. "I see... Affirmative, it is imperative we stay smart." Not that that's an issue for him. He has excellent wit and judgement. He pats Cosmos's elbow. "Thank you, Cosmos," he tacks on before making his way over to the table. He makes sure he draws himself upright as much as possible.

Soundwave reaches between Prowl and Rodimus to set his unopen cube back on the table. "Apologies," he directs to Rodimus. "But I must go now." 'To plan an assassination' isn't said but maybe implied. He's going to do this right and plan his justice accordingly.

"Likewise, Glaze." Hunker offers Glaze a warm smile, warmer even than when the mech had allowed him to idly chatter that day in the Great Plains. "I don't think you should apologize. You had a good point." Tailgate gets a nod in greeting, the minibot not someone Hunker is familiar with at all, and Galaxy might receive a gentle, reassuring touch to the arm. He even speaks quietly, hopefully not drawing much attention to what he's saying. "Just act like you feel, Rob. Nobody's gradin' you on this, you don't have to worry about doing it wrong." At least, he assumes so. Because that would be pretty fragged.

Rodimus prickles in answer to their quest being labeled his holy mission, smile widening: "Hey, there's hope for you yet, don't worry. Little too late for your personal life, but who knows what the future will bring, huh?" If the comment about his crew is meant to get under Rodimus's armor, it soothes him instead, and he relaxes as his gaze turns to the others in the room, like Tailgate and his thumbs up. His smile softens, less brittle. "Yeah, it has grown." He might be about to add something else in there, possibly on the edge of a verbal blade, but then Soundwave slips to drop off his cube and Rodimus startles. He was paying way too much attention to baiting Prowl, clearly. "Hey, no apology needed." He adds, "Let me know if you need anything," but that's not actually directed at what is implied. He misses that entirely.

Cosmos blinks down at the pat given to his elbow but doesn't follow as Soundwave leaves, just watches after the mech before turning to watch out the window. Soundwave might not want to drink, but the UFO might after this.

Glaze offers Galaxy Shuttle a reasuring smile before his attention is drawn by a tap on his elbow. He looks down, nodding when he finds Tailgate there "I cannot tollerate mechs who show such blatant disrespect to the dead and the grieving. He acts as if it were just an obligation, an item to check off a list!" he pauses to take a deep vent before he goes off again before shaking his head "It would have been better if he had not come at all.

Conduit feels ... sad. He's not eavesdropping on discussions, but it seems as if those assembled have bent their thoughts elsewhere - not onto the dead, but around them. Even Soundwave, although he deserves that privilege, considering how hard the deaths have hit him. Conduit finds a seat near the window and occupies it, elbows braced againt the insides of his knees, fingers cradling the cube of flat energon. Staring into space, he settles his thoughts onto the deceased he never knew.

Prowl stares rather intensely as Soundwave arm slides between them. Like he expected it to be holding a knife. He openly glowers at Rodimus now, with no retort, just anger, which manifests in the twitching of his upper lip. "I need to get back to work as well," he says stiffly. "Good night." He's sure to graze Soundwave's shoulder, roughly, as he passes.

Prowl's optics narrow for half a moment before looking off towards Whisper. Lieutenant internally shrinks under the gaze while he grips his datapad for comfort. He finally walks away to approach Cosmos, just to get a bit of distraction before heading off to work again. "Would you like to grab a drink and see the library thus far?" With the help of Skywarp and Sunstreaker, the space flooring is finally finished and it looks pretty sublime in a giant empty room.

"Yeah, was a little loud, but other than that, well." Tailgate looks up to Glaze with a moment of mirth, spared for him in the middle of everything. His gaze moves to study the holoform again more closely. Hunker is reassuring them, so-- "You're alright." He gives some too. "It's okay, Glaze, just-- chill? You've said what you needed to." Tailgate pats the other mech on the arm, a gentle reminder of boldness being alright. To a degree, of course.

Cosmos looks up as Lieutenant approaches, taking note of the datapad and the fact that Lieutenant... seems a little more nervous than usual. Hiding a weak but genuine smile, Cosmos is quick to give a simple, "Sure." In response. As if there is any doubt he would say no.

Galaxy Shuttle's gaze snaps up when Hunker's hand passes through him, finally noticing that several new mecha have joined the group around him. The holoform's hands leap up to cover his faceplates when the new stranger talks to him. Still, he has to admit it's nice to be told it's alright to blunder. The shuttle's just used to his crewmates seeing him as a little odd. The shuttle nods, offering up an uncertain smile no one can see behind his hands. He also says 'Okay,' but that too is muffled by his hands.

Soundwave nods to Rodimus. He will. But for now, he needs to be alone with his thoughts... And his plans. He stiffens with the graze before turning to follow Prowl out. He glares at the back of the mech's helm but doesn't say anything. Sooner he's in the office, the better.

blog comments powered by Disqus