2018-03-12 Beanie Beans
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Cybertron -- Alyon - Nursery|
|Participants||Blast Off, Bone-Spur, Fortress Maximus, Lieutenant, Lockjaw, Starstruck, Swivel|
|Summary||Bone-Spur teaches how to mold life that's having a bit of trouble shaping themselves.|
he hot spot of Alyon was a miracle for an array of reasons, the most of which was that it was the first spot on Cybertron in eons. Unfortunately, maybe they weren't ready. Not really. The medics down on the planet have been toiling over the newsparks since they appeared, and as the hot spot continues at a dribbling pace, it is clear that some of this new life isn't so lucky at making themselves whole. Some of the newsparks have become individuals now-- the eldest. The rest are in various sluggish states of forming, the sentio metallico finding difficulty in making purchase with the sparks.
Cybertron hasn't //needed// a blacksmith of this caliber for a long while. So when it boils down, they need the help.
That's where the Lost Light comes in, to a degree; Bone-Spur has agreed to bridge down to the nursery in Alyon to assist, and with her she brings a small(relative) entourage.
"Awright, now remember, this isn't playtime." The Eukarian has her trio of Big Mechs at the door to the building where everything is being kept safe, giving a sort of pep talk(?). "Gotta be serious if you're really wanting to learn something."
Fortress Maximus has wanted to learn how to do something new for some time. Something that isn't about murder or killing or war, all things he's been skilled in since his own forging. A forging he does not remember, of course, and as a very late harvest from one of the last spark fields, he only met new Cybertronian life as MTOs. For a time, he thought he was MTO. He's close enough.
So while he wants to answer Bone Spur with something about always being serious, instead he stays quiet, unable to find the words as he shifts his weight from one huge foot to the other and wrings his hands in a decidedly Fritzian style. "How risky is this...?" he asks instead. "To them."
Starstruck is nearly vibrating in excitement, and it's to his credit that he holds it in. Beans! They're going to see babies. He's never seen babies, not like this. Doesn't matter that they're not actually babies. "Got it, Spur," he says, snapping off a quick salute. He's super ready. Super totally 100% ready--but Fortress Maximus' shuffling is distracting.
"It's gonna be alright," Star says softly. "We've got an expert teaching us, it'll be okay."
Swivel actually hadn't been back to Cybertron since she'd been pulled out of that escape pod. It was always a spacebridge away, but for reasons known to herself she'd stayed away. However the opportunity to assist new life with its transition was one the small femme found strangely irresistible. And so she tagged along. However, she had been quiet as she trailed the much larger mechs, often having to make tiny sprints to keep up with their stride when her own pace dawdled. As if in response to Bone-spur's remark about this not being play time, she shuffles into view of the EUkarian wearing her serious face.
Lieutenant nods firmly at Bone-Spur, always eager to learn something new. He doesn't dawdle over the newsparks, "I am mainly here to observe," the avian points to his optics. "I do not wish to cause any lasting effects on anyone." His hands remain clasped behind his lower back. He doesn't know if he's dangerous to a newspark or not, but he doesn't take chances.
"A room full of tiny versions you." Quietly, Lieu asides to Starstruck, "Hopefully they mature faster."
Blast Off is only here because they need somebody in Intel, and as a Combaticon warrior should they need that, and maybe as a transport, too, that might always come in handy, you never know. Certainly not because he has any soft, sappy interest in NEWSPARKS. Which the Combaticon keeps glancing around looking for, despite his attempt to appear as aloof and unimpressed as possible.
Bone Spur isn't the only Eukarian here. Lockjaw had her reservations about coming along. Though the Unicron disaster has forced the residents of Eukaris to cooperate, the Scalewalker warrior was not there for it, and even all her time aboard the lost light has not entierly eradicated her previous prejudices. However, in the end, those very same prejudices were what convinced her to come along. Hatchings - newsparks - whatever the standards call them - are as vulnerable as vulnerable can be, and who can say what sort of harm the influence of standards and tribeless could do? At the very least, she feels obliged to come and keep an eye on things.
As much as she might not like Bone-Spur giving directions, she remains quiet for now, save a snort at the other Eukarian's warnings.
"Not very. Leastwise, if I start it up." Bone-Spur's size is comparable to Max, and her features bend with the crooked aspect she carries so well. Her smile is a playful jag of lip over cheek, and she reaches out to clap Max on the arm. "If you're not sure goin' in, it's okay to watch. I'm sure this won't be my last visit." She makes sure to say this for all of them, just in case there are any more that seem as cautious as Max. An eye dips to Swivel, mouth twisting in another smile for her serious face.
"Good. Good." Bone Spur nods her head just once before she pushes the door to the building open. It's like most medical facilities at first, flush with medics that offer a helpful direction when Bone Spur presses them for it. At the back of the facility is a hallway lined with incubator doors, then a larger room beyond it. It's terribly warm, with rosy lights that imitate rays, and several pools of shining metal. A couple of medics are taking vitals of what appears to be a silver wishbone. It twitches under gentle fingers, a singular horizontal optic flickering back. There are sparks in some of the pools, but it does not appear that the two are reading one another. Like a drop of oil trying to absorb water. A plastic corral is set up in the corner, a few other lopsided shapes wiggling and waiting their turn to be seen.
"Got an audience, looks like." Bone-Spur moves aside to let the others file in, and a couple of the nurses from before have joined them-- learning experiences, right?
<FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Weak To Cute: Success. (1 8 4 2)
At Starstruck's reassurance, Fort Max looks away, embarrassed at his obvious nervousness being-well, so obvious. Watching sounds like a good idea. He looks down at those big hands of his, so good at tearing things apart, not exactly made for putting them together. And then he studies Bone-Spur for a second, as big as he is and heavily armored. The Eukarians don't seem to think much about what they were 'made for.'
A steely-serious look crosses his features. "I want to help if I can, Bone-Spur. Just tell me what to do." Yes, he can do this. He can...
He stops and stares at the little wishbone shape. Just...gawks for a second. "Is that...?"
<FS3> Starstruck rolls Friendship Magnetism: Good Success. (7 3 5 2 2 8 6 4)
Starstruck's fangs dig into his lip, antennae quivering. He'd been following Bone-Spur's talk right up until they actually entered the facility and seen the pools of sentio metallico, the forming newsparks, the--well, the everything! He grabs at Lieutenant's arm, leans close to an audial to whisper, "I can't believe we're really here!" before pulling away and stepping closer to the pools.
"Yeah, tell us what to do," Star repeats. He's doing so good at looking and not touching, yet with the power of his looking at these sparks one could almost imagine he was somehow touching them telekinetically. "Max, Max! They're beautiful, right?" He gestures toward the wishbone shape. "Fuck, this is so awesome."
How curious. Lieutenant looks over at the sparks in the pools. "Mhm, a difficult task you have." He nods at them, "Help will be with you shortly, and in some hours you will see who you will become." The avian can't help himself, but he can try talking to them. He won't be as good as Starstruck, but he doesn't care. "My name is Lieutenant. Over there is Bone-Spur, she's going to help you find yourselves. The nervous one is Fortress Maximus who is gentle for his size, worry not. Starstruck is that one, thrilled as always and excited to meet you. Swivel is the small little one who is also from around this area. Blast Off is the slightly less smaller, but he is not as gruff as he puts on. And Finally, Lockjaw who is very protective." Fins twitch as the light brightens in his optics, "We are all looking forward to meeting you soon."
Unlike some of the others, Lockjaw is fairly calm with the whole affair, possibly because this wouldn't be her first time seeing hatch-spark-whatever-lings. She hasn't really participated much, but the sight isn't entirely new to her.
That's not to say that this isn't a marvelous sight for her. Even she pushes a little forward to get closer, though she does leave some room for the shorter mechs to see. Fortress Maximus' question earns a grunt as well, this time accompanied by a nod "Indeed."
Swivel files into the nursery, still keeping her silence. But it isn't a sullen silence, but rather a quiet wonder as she begins to look at the incubators, pools, and the various stages of development displayed in the large room. It, and the many other large mechs, makes her feel even more incredibly small, even though some of these partially shaped lumps are smaller than herself. Swivel gives Starstruck and his exuberance a very wide berth as she angles for a view of some of the pools where the sparks just don't seem to be making an imprint on the sentio metallico at all. Of course, until given proper instruction, she keeps her dainty hands to herself.
Swivel tilts her head to the side, listening to Lieutenant's introduction. There is a small, tiny raise her her shoulders hinting at some aggravation, but then the slump forward and she frowns ever so slightly. "We're here to help. Don't be afraid." Swivel just says in a much softer coo, not sure what else to say or do until proper instructions are given.
Blast Off hesitates... the shuttleformer looks a bit awkward but what else is new? Frame stetching tall, he marches in after Bone Spur, still maintaining a look of aloof professionalism. However, those violet optics are taking in everything. Still, he holds back, putting on his usual standoffish demeanor. Lieutenant calling him out on it elecits a loud, startled "*huff*!" as he crosses his arms and looks away, wing elevons twitching.
"Blast Off, now please," Lieutenant insists, "Huff too hard and you might blow them to the other side of the pool." The avian looks at Swivel and nods. While he personally doesn't coo at them, they'll be mature in a few hours anyway, it's amusing to watch her do it. Cute.
Bone-Spur is commandeering some gloves from a storage bin as the others take a first look around. She measures sizes by sight before passing them around. Swivel's might be a little large, but they only get so small.
"Tug these on first. Just a precaution..." For all the nervous ones. "We just wanna get these guys started, and we'll see what happens from there. Pick a pool, buddy up if ya need ta. Swivel, you come here with me. I need those tiny hands on this one."
Bone-Spur thumps down on the floor beside a pool with a smaller spark, motioning for the others to watch. "It's gonna be a bit hot if you're not used to it." She warns, just once, before dipping her big hands into the pool. It displaces some of the metal, and she is careful as she cups it around the curve of the seated spark, held still on a tiny base. "Not too hard, not too easy. Ever build yourselves a sandcastle?" The dino's question comes quite calmly, as if she isn't just taking a life into her hands. The metal responds some to her touch, rippling against her finger joints.
<FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Presence: Good Success. (8 8 7)
<FS3> Starstruck rolls Singing: Good Success. (4 8 5 1 1 5 3 6 3 7 3)
When Max hears Lieutenant introduce him, he can't hide the smile crossing his face. "Uh, hello," he says in a soft rumble, though he's pretty sure the sparks can't hear him. He slips on the gloves over his squarish hands and moves next to a spark pool, gazing at his own reflection briefly in the metallic ripples. This is a person. He is going to help build a person.
He watches Bone-Spur like a hawk, as if he were back on the battlefield learning how to fight from his elders. Then, steadying his hands as best he can, he starts gently coaxing the sentio metallico towards the spark. "Like...like this...?...What's a sandcastle?"
Starstruck barely notices how Swivel arcs around him, so taken is he with these babies in these pools. His attention diverts only to return to Bone-Spur, accepting the gloves from her with a grateful grin, hanging on her every word. He's a goof but this is serious, and not something he wants to mess up. He takes a spot by a nearby pool, kneeling beside it as Spur has done. There's a spark in the metallico nearest him, a medium thing, and he cups it the way that Bone-Spur did. He can feel the heat through his gloves; he ignores it, shaping the metal the way he would shape sand, because of course he's partaken in the human pastime of sandcastle building.
...Sort of. Don't ask.
"It's a castle you build out of sand. You know what sand is, right? Rock particles?" He turns back to the spark he's holding, and begins to sing. "Hush now, my baby, be still love, don't cry~ Sleep as you're rocked by the stream~ Sleep and remember, my last lullaby; so I'll be there when you dream~"
Blast Off blinks, turning to stare at Lieutenant with an immediate HUF- that stops short in a instant as the Combaticon registers all that the Autobot said. So the huff ends as a sharp strangled whistle, then the shuttle is silent, though no less fidgety now. Wings flick as he *wants* to huff but stops himself. He watches everyone else begin to move towards the new sparks, then stares down at the gloves he was give. "Wait, you actually expect me to ...uh..." he stares out at one of the pools, dumbfounded. "....actually *handle* these things?"
Swivel takes the gloves and pulls them as she hurriedly follows Bone-spur, optics wide with curiousity. She looks at her own tiny hands, looking just a bit bulkier with the slightly-oversized gloves now protecting them. The petite femme scoots over and kneels down beside Bone-spur, watching avidly as Bone-spur demonstrates. Swivel piggy-backs on Bone-spur's calmness as a signal that she ought not worry too much. "Hello." She says to the spark Bone-spur is assisting. She then looks back at the pool, and then at the spark. Swivel tentatively reaches her hands out to the metal Bone-spur had began to cup around the spark. "How do I help?" Swivel glances around as others that have started working, even singing, and then back to Bone-spur.
The sparks can't wave back to Maximus but Lieutenant will do it for them. He takes a pair of gloves, gingerly putting them over his spikes knuckles. Lieutenant is just going to be playing the support role. Not that anyone will really need it. He takes a seat near Blast Off, resting his chin on the back of his hand with his gaze and mind off in a lulled daze. (Lost in Star's melody.) "They are the future, Blast Off." the avian reminds absentmindedly.
Were she just made to stare at the hatchlings, Lockjaw might have eventually forgotten who it is that's leading this whole thing. When she's handed the gloves, however, she scowls, and though she does take them, she does not hurry to put them on. Blast Off's question, atleast, gives here an excuse to hesitate. "They are not things, standard." she growls, before looking up at Bone Spur again "Although I too question the wisdom of alowing the untrained to do this."
Bone-Spur seems to approve of the methods that Starstruck is taking, lifting a look to him as he sits and works gently with the metal. Her own hands follow a kneading sort of motion, and she takes one of Swivel's hands under a finger to lay it against the surface of where she is holding metal. "Keep doing this, see? Back and forth, a bit of a rythym."
"You don't have to. You can watch." Bone Spur looks up to Blast Off, one hand cupped against the metal in the pool and the other resting on the edge, letting Swivel touch it as it were dough. "I started out knowing nothing too, Lockjaw. This is how I was taught, and if you needed the help, probably how you were shaped too." The elder Eukarian gives her younger counterpart a crooked, toothy smile, the metal against her palm giving an excited pulse of movement that Swivel will feel too. "I am here, all is well."
The others seem to be doing fairly enough; Starstruck's voice results in a soft wobble of light from spark and metallico, a shining warble of sound following it. Parroting the environment.
Max's hasn't done much quite yet, the metal in the pool bunching up and relaxing under his gloves. After some time spent it will begin to stick, absorbing the warmth from the palms of the Warborn's hands.
<FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Singing: Success. (8 3 6)
<FS3> Starstruck rolls Singing: Good Success. (4 8 2 1 3 4 1 7 5 8 5)
<FS3> Swivel rolls Compassion: Good Success. (5 5 3 4 6 1 3 7 7 2 1)
Starstruck lights up, literally, when he notices the spark responding to its metallico - his headlights flicker, antennae wiggling and visor brightening, a beaming smile shot Bone-Spur's way. He keeps singing as he gently, again, copies the movements of her hands, kneading the metallico around the spark, trying to help it connect and grow the way it's meant to. "River, oh river, flow gently for me; such precious cargo you bear! Do you know somewhere, where he can be free? River deliver him there~"
Star does glance Lieutenant's way, Max's way, Boff's way; each time his smile sweetens, and softens, his voice reaching a low croon. Gentle, soothing, as his hands work the metallico.
Blast Off stares down at the nearest pool, then back up at Lieutenant, who seems very sedate and dreamy over there. The Combaticon's face seems to pinch a bit under his mask, then soften as he looks back down at... the future. "That's really.... *we* looked like this once?" He stares down, then forgets himself with a small huff at Lockjaw's comments. "I am *hardly* standard," he sniffs quietly, nose turning up. Hiffiness rising, then falling, he drops his chin down to look into the pool again. "...But fine, no. They're not.... *things*, I suppose. They... they're... are they conscious?"
He looks up, catching sight of Swivel helping Bone Spur, Starstruck and his singing (actually it's rather nice, and his smile causes the Combaticon to relax just a tiny bit), and then to Bone Spur. "Ah, alright. Then... yes! I can just... watch." Not like HE would want to get too involved here, right? He watches Fort Max trying to be so... so *gentle*. Blast Off crosses his arms, still not doing anything, but he is definitely watching from the corner of his optics, despite himself.
Fort Max's biolights flicker in surprise when Starstruck starts singing, though it's a pleasant sound. He starts humming too almost subconsciously. He's never heard a lullaby, but can imagine the sort of soothing song he'd wished someone had sung to him when he was in a troubled place; it's just a hum, a bass melody.
He coaxes the metal gently. "Come on," he whispers. "You can do this. You're gonna have a better time than my generation did, I hope." And then it's back to humming and coaxing, moving his hands ever-so-slowly. And optics widening as he does, marveling at his own ability to coax something instead. (Never mind gently holding smaller mechs, or Eyebrows, or any of that, shh...)
<FS3> Lieutenant rolls Caretaker: Great Success. (2 7 1 1 4 8 8 8 5 5)
Swivel nods, allowing herself to be guided, and begins to stroke and knead the metal. She smiles as she begins to think she's getting the hang of it.
But Lockjaw's comments give her pause. While she had been trusting in Bone-spur's judgment that there's nothing wrong with letting amateurs handle potential life or death situations, the large gator's comments resonate with Swivel's own lack of self-esteem. Swivel nearly snatches her hands away from the metal, suddenly afraid she might do more harm than good. But something more profound than her fear, the sense that clearly these sparks need help stays her hand. Her fingers tense and go rigid for a moment. However, listening to the singing na feeling that small pulse of movement, she relaxes. Swivel glances up at Bone-spur briefly, and then tries to focus only on the slippery life in her hands. "I'm here... too. We're all here." Swivel casts a glance at Blast Off and Lieutenant as they keep back. Well. Mostly.
Lieutenant's optics glance at every pool, optics shyly looking away when he meets Starstruck's. Fins flicking with delight at the other three when Blast Off steps back. "Come now, Blast Off," he insists gently, carefully dipping his hands in, despite earlier saying he wouldn't. This is a spark in need, he can't let it just rest their in waiting. "All they need is a little coaxing," his hands delicately rolling the metallico, "So what do you wish to be young one? There are so many choices in this life to make. Just remember to enjoy who you are. You are special and no one should rob that of you. Take it from one who took seven million years to learn that."
<FS3> Lockjaw rolls Protective: Great Success. (3 5 7 4 5 8 4 7 6 6 4 7)
Lockjaw does not smile back, though the temptation to show her teeth is there. Instead, she simply snorts. Another time it might have been more of a hiss, with this tribeless acting so - casual with her, a Scalwealker warrior, but this is not the place for such things, lest her own agression do here the harm she came to prevent.
Instead, she turns back to the sparklings - so small, vulnurable, yet lacking the form and armour to even begin to protect themselves. She takes a step closer, and another, before slowly lowering herself to her knees before one of the pools, doning the gloves as she does. Carefully, she reaches in, as Bone Spur and the others had.
"More or less. Not like us, but there's a lil'somethin in there." Bone-Spur answers Blast Off without looking up this time, feet stretching out and the pool between her knees as she sits on the floor. Very hands on, and her manner is very much Eukarian. Some of the Cybertronian medics give her a bit of an eyeballing, but they are soon settling down to start working too, taking cues. The Lost Lighters can be strange sometimes, but-- it seems to be fine?
Lockjaw's approach to the pools and the newsparks is something Spur watches out of the corner of her optic; she knows how the scalewalker must see her-- but she has seen it all before. She knows how to take it in stride.
Swivel's tiny hands prove to be a perfect size for helping Bone-Spur pull and knead the metal around the warm pulse of spark. After a few good turns of the surface, there is a tightness under their hands that tugs and quivers. Spur takes Swivel's hands calmly from the surface of the protoform, allowing her to watch as it bends and warps of its own accord, geometric lines creasing around the edges as it finds root.
The sound and ministrations from others are slower to root, but pieces begin to stick more readily around the sparks, metallico warping and twitching.
With the protoform she began with now holding a shape on its own, Bone-Spur wordlessly scoots over to where Max is tending his. "Here, lemme see your hands. Lil' harder." She reaches out to hold onto the other big pair with her own, guiding with intent, voice a low rumble. "Purposeful."
Blast Off finds himself glancing back to Fort Max, then the pools. "I wonder." He's lost in thought for a moment before finally adding, "It's... hard to imagine a world where our kind is raised with no knowledge of ...war." His optic ridges furrow down as he wonders if that would ever even be possible. He watches the others, then focuses back on Lieutenant as he is addressed. The huffiness is subsiding and the Combaticon is now watching without attempting to hide his interest.
Lieu speaking of *choice* resonates with the shuttleformer and he can't help but linger on those last words, studying the mech's face as he says it. He looks over as Bone Sour answers him, giving her a nod. Hmm. Then his gaze drops down once more to the sparks, watching as blobs of nothingness are beginning to attempt some kind of form, and he mutters, "Will their... choices be better than ours, I wonder? Or are we doomed to make the same mistakes again and again?"
<FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Presence+presence: Good Success. (5 8 3 3 7 2)
<FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Stress: Good Success. (2 2 3 6 7 2 1 8)
"I've never lived it," Fortress Maximus says quietly, so absorbed in his work he doesn't realize he's making small talk with Blast Off of all people. "Me and everyone forged or constructed after me, we just had the war as our whole lives. I..." His optics dim for a second. "Well, we'll be there too. It isn't like they're going away. We had you all to tell us what life was like before war...so we can tell them about life before peace, so they understand....right?"
His hands shake for a second and his biolights flare as he detects the metal resisting. Ugh, stupid, he couldn't do it, how did he think he could? He's not made for this, not made for anything like this--and then Bone Spur comes over to help. "Harder? But..." He looks down at her hands, just as big and powerful as his own, and vents in. "Guess I still need to figure out how to trust my hands," he admits, following her lead and letting her guide him so he can, in turn, guide the metal and the spark.
As he sings, the metallico-covered spark in his hands begins to form into an elongated oval shape, and Starstruck smiles. His fingertip carefully kneads a protrusion forming along the newspark's back - front? - side? - and once it seems to hold, he glances Bone-Spur's way. Well...she hasn't put it down, so... "Guess you and I are gonna hang out for a while," he rumbles to the bean. It doesn't answer, considering it's a baby.
"They're gonna be a lot better than we were," Starstruck offers to Blast Off, on the heels of Fortress Maximus. "We know better. We can give them what we didn't have."
<FS3> Lieutenant rolls Caretaker: Success. (5 7 1 3 5 4 6 3 2 5)
The metal was coming along much better when Lieutenant first dipped his hands in. It's slowed but it continues to form. "Talking is difficult enough," he apologizes, "But if you expect me to sing, I think you best call Starstruck or Fortress Maximus over." He moves the metal along as it seems to shape itself. He mummers to the spark, "Just count your lucky stars Cyclonus did not come along."
"I would hope so" Lockjaw rumbles, without looking up from the tiny life in her large, clawed hands. Unlike Max, she doesn't seem to be at all worried about her strength as she carefully closes them tighter "From what I read and heard of your history, before the war, you had not changed much since the times when Onyx Prime and Chela first took for Eukaris." Oddly, her words lack most of the usual, underlying hostility the topic would usually bring out in her. Perhaps a bit discontent, but otherwise low, and calm.
Blast Off listens to Fort Max, then Starstruck. The Combaticon's optic ridges are still furrowed down in doubt, but there's something in his optics as he lifts them at the same time he does his voice. "I... hope so." He's not sure the same stupid cycles of pain and suffering won't just happen over and over because people can be so... *much* sometimes. "I certainly DO hope to still be around, true. I suppose..." Now he looks down as Lieu starts shaping metal. "...there's something to sharing our experiences with the next generation."
Despite all the protest earlier, now Blast Off moves towards the pool edge, starting to look at the sparks within. He glances up to Lockjaw. "...That is my concern. Some old habits, old traditions are of great value. Others..." His voice drops a bit, "...others make me wish we were less stuck in our ways."
Swivel doesn't resist when her hands are calmly guided away after the tugging. Swivel watches in wonder as the sentio metallico begins to actually take shape. "Aaah, there now." Swivel coos. She takes a moment to glance around at everyone else, and the different ways the newsparks are developing with both wonder and curiousity. She peers over at Blast Off as he finally approaches one of the pools. "That's it..." she coos again, glancing quickly back to the shape the one her and Bone-spur had worked on. The talk of a better future has Swivel smiling wistfully as she looks back to Bone-spur. "...Thank you for this opportunity."
"We're of a kind, 's ok." Bone-Spur's voice is a whisper, and her hands on Fort Max's pair are sturdy, well-worked, and very comfortable in what they are doing. Her craggy knuckles bulk the gloves, and she knows she'd rather ply the metal without them, but it makes things less testing for the others. While they talk amonsgt themselves, the Eukarian listens, hoping that the sentiments they speak of manage to get through too. For now she concentrates on helping Fort Max. "You know yerself better than I do. But I trust you won't hurt 'em."
Swivel earns a toothy smile from Spur, earnest as she gives the minibot a nod. After what seems to be significantly longer than the time Spur spent helping hers, the other protoforms begin to find more creases, angles, bumps. The one that Star has in hand adopts a perpetual warbling sound. That's going to be annoying for the medics.
"Once they start pushing back, let'em go and see if they can find a shape." Bone-Spur instructs passively. For the most part, they will find some shapes-- she may need to make some last assists, but for now the protoforms look more like they ought to. In about a cycle they'll find out if they took further or not.
"That's right. They find their own shape, don't they?" Fort Max gives Bone Spur a grateful look as his frame starts to relax and his movements grow a little more natural, though if he's ever to do this for real he's going to need a lot of practice. The metal feels so weird even through the gloves, and so warm from the heat of the spark. "I have to tell him about this," he whispers, without specifying who 'he' is. "I have to..."
The protoform starts to look a little diamond-shaped.
"Look at that," Lieutenant muses to Starstruck, "Like spark like midwife." The avian takes his hands away as the metal begins to shape on it's own around the spark. "Allow these word to be the first to find your ears," he intones, watching the bean form, "The world is brighter than the sun, now that you are here. Though your eyes will need some time to adjust to the overwhelming light..." He dearly hopes they defeat Unicron so that they may have joyous, peaceful lifespans.
Blast Off watches as Starstruck's little blob forms into a warbling bean, his optics widening as something starts to finally click into place for him. The Combaticon looks to Lieutenant, then down to the gloves he still holds. Staring at those a moment, he slowly begins to put them on. Quietly, in fact kind of hoping no one even sees him, he makes his way to the edge and crouches down. He looks over at some of the others again, as if checking to make sure of things, then reaches down to touch the metallico. Poke. A spark shines nearby, and soon his hand glides towards it.
Swivel just takes a moment to revel at all of the different shapes. And to think, she started out like this once. Swivel gives Lieutenant a sideglance, listening to him talk to the spark, almost forgetting how very intimidating she still finds him. Swivel then peers at some of the pools. "I think I could get used to this." Swivel remarks to no one in particular. "They're so vulnerable and I almost feel... actually needed."
"They are influenced by what is around them, but otherwise, yes" Lockjaw's voice drops further -low, gentle, and more focused on the infant Cybertronian in her hands than towards Max. This one could be anything - it dawns on her - more anything than even the choices it might have had were it on Eukaris, but, right now, watching this tiny life begin to form, move even, that doesn't bother her.
Feeling a slight nudge against her hands, she carefully releases the protoform before moving back, away from it, but only for a moment. There is the characteristic tsch-chs-ch of transformation, and then she is closer than before, low to the ground - closer to its level, her snout only inches away as she watches it. "They are." she mutters quietly "Whatever you choose, do not let anyone hold it against you." the irony of those words is lost on her, or perhaps simply ignored, given the situation.
"Doing this takes as much spirit as it does know-how... maybe a little more. I know y'all got that." As Fortress Maximus coaxes a more solid shape out of the spark, Bone-Spur considers her assist over with; she moves on to the next space across from Blast Off, wordlessly thumping down near him and offering her big mitts out to show him how to do it.
He doesn't need to explain himself, and Bone-Spur doesn't ask what changed his mind. What matters now is that he wants to help, and so she will show him. One step at a time.
Blast Off tenses as Bone-Spur comes to his pool- he's been discovered, alas! But soon he's watching her and emulating what she does, actually reaching his hands in there and *doing the work*, suddenly in contact with the awesome force of new life being shaped quite literally around his fingers. It's sobering. It's... "...Incredible."