Sentinel Prime (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ashandrust) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
robothell2016-01-26 02:52 pm
ashandrust) wrote in robothell2016-01-26 02:52 pm
Entry tags:
A scientist, a warmonger, and a surgeon walk into a cave…
Who: Sentinel Prime, Tarn, Spinister
Where: Out in the sticks
When: Somewhen after Tarn's exile /hand wobbly motions
What: SUPER TENSE AWKWARD MEETINGS
Warnings: None as of posting but can/will edit as needed
Life on this strange, half-dead Cybertron is not what Sentinel Prime would call ideal, but since he removed himself from the city, it has at least been peaceful. There was a time – when he was much younger – he wouldn't have minded being surrounded by others and their day to day business, however removed and tedious it may have been. Perhaps in his age and bitterness he has forgotten how to enjoy company.
He finds, looking across the blasted landscape outside the city, he is content with that.
The lack of interruption and chaos makes his work easier; he spends his days taking and studying samples, mapping the stars and using those maps to navigate as much of the land as he can reach before he is compelled back to the city. The compulsion is disorienting at times, seeming to tell his nav systems that he's suddenly changed directions, telling his mind he's going the wrong way. He needs his maps.
More than that, he needs to understand what happened to this world, and his grasp of its demise and rebirth is sorely limited when he cannot range and see all there is to find. So today is another day of collecting, scraping metal and stone to see what – if any – changes have occurred since last week. This inferior Cybertron is still changing and recovering, however slowly. He must understand the process. If he can capture it, replicate it, he may yet be able to bring his own world back.
Or so he tells himself.
But he must not doubt. So he picks his way along paths through the foothills, visiting sample sites and gathering what he needs. He'll need to go down into the city for energon soon, too, he thinks as he climbs past a fall that wasn't there before. Sentinel Prime pauses and frowns, looking back. The site has been disturbed since he left it; odd, since few bother coming out this far. He eases back down the slope for a closer look and finds tracks in the rust and graphite, and he scowls, slowly pushing air from his vents in a sigh. He doesn't want company.
Where: Out in the sticks
When: Somewhen after Tarn's exile /hand wobbly motions
What: SUPER TENSE AWKWARD MEETINGS
Warnings: None as of posting but can/will edit as needed
Life on this strange, half-dead Cybertron is not what Sentinel Prime would call ideal, but since he removed himself from the city, it has at least been peaceful. There was a time – when he was much younger – he wouldn't have minded being surrounded by others and their day to day business, however removed and tedious it may have been. Perhaps in his age and bitterness he has forgotten how to enjoy company.
He finds, looking across the blasted landscape outside the city, he is content with that.
The lack of interruption and chaos makes his work easier; he spends his days taking and studying samples, mapping the stars and using those maps to navigate as much of the land as he can reach before he is compelled back to the city. The compulsion is disorienting at times, seeming to tell his nav systems that he's suddenly changed directions, telling his mind he's going the wrong way. He needs his maps.
More than that, he needs to understand what happened to this world, and his grasp of its demise and rebirth is sorely limited when he cannot range and see all there is to find. So today is another day of collecting, scraping metal and stone to see what – if any – changes have occurred since last week. This inferior Cybertron is still changing and recovering, however slowly. He must understand the process. If he can capture it, replicate it, he may yet be able to bring his own world back.
Or so he tells himself.
But he must not doubt. So he picks his way along paths through the foothills, visiting sample sites and gathering what he needs. He'll need to go down into the city for energon soon, too, he thinks as he climbs past a fall that wasn't there before. Sentinel Prime pauses and frowns, looking back. The site has been disturbed since he left it; odd, since few bother coming out this far. He eases back down the slope for a closer look and finds tracks in the rust and graphite, and he scowls, slowly pushing air from his vents in a sigh. He doesn't want company.
no subject
Still, matters could be worse, and although Tarn would never admit it, he’s finding it easier and easier to tolerate Spinister’s presence. He even, occasionally, has sought it out. After all as far as watching out for potential danger, two sets of optics are better than one. Which is what brings them to where they are now, combing the wastes for shovels or anything that could be fashioned into one. The basement of their dwelling holds too much potential to pass up, all they need to do is dig it out.
Tarn sighs, stooping to pull a sheet out metal out of the sand, turning it in his hands and testing its sturdiness. Casting a glance over his shoulder he proceeds to turn and address Spinister.
“What do you think of this sheet? It’s certainly the most sturdy that we’ve found so far."
no subject
"That's too brittle. Wouldn't last a day with what we're going to do with it. One hit against anything hard and it'd start chipping like a really chippy thing!"
Honestly, Spinister isn't sure what the hurry is; it wasn't like they actually had anything better to do other than dig around for shovel bits or shovels. They had the whole goddamn wastes to sort through- at least as far as the city lets them go before they're compelled back withing its limits.
It was kind of tempting to go to the edges of the city though. They'd find a better array of metal sheets there for sure. The only problem was Spinister couldn't leave Tarn alone ever since the whole 'buddy system' thing started and Tarn was going to get executed if he breached the limits and got caught.
no subject
He sighs. They're tramping all over one of his favourite sites.
"I find it curious," he announces loudly, standing right where he is, "that you thought you might find anything of use out here in the dust."
no subject
He’s ready to move on when an unrecognized voice interrupts. Tarn’s optic blaze as he whips around to address the interloper. In doing so he puts himself firmly between the stranger and Spinister, protecting his partner with his larger mass and dense battle-ready armor. He’s hoping that it’s only Spinister that notices the way he almost trips over his own leg in the process.
He’s a pathetic sight, but he hopes that he at least is still slightly ominous looking, if nothing else. Certainly he’s not looking to make any new ‘friends’.
“Identify yourself or leave.” Oh, it burns Tarn to be so passive, but he can’t afford another fight right now. “We don’t want trouble.” There. He said it. He hopes your happy Spinister.
no subject
Spin slowly sticks his head out from around Tarn's shoulder threads, blinking wide-opticked blinks of confusion.
He kind of lost track of what was happening. There'd been a pretty nice looking piece of metal wedged between some ruins off in the distance there and he was about to start making his way over when The Voice spoke. When he'd turned around to see where The Voice has spoken from, however, he suddenly has a face-full of Tarn's tarp-draped back.
Of course now that he's spotted the source of The Voice, Sentinel is graced with a distinctly unhappy hiss. Spinister then slowly sinks back down behind Tarn's back and out of view.
no subject
Neither, technically, is it Sentinel's territory, but it is his site.
no subject
“Maybe so, but I don’t see how you’re entitled to it either.” He rasps, optics flashing in warning.
He doesn’t back down, instead Tarn takes a step forward, glaring up at the mech on the ridge, daring him make a move. Unwilling to offer any reasoning for them to be trolling the wastes for scraps, Tarn risks a glance back at Spinister and shoots him a silent look that demands he do the same. He can’t have anyone else knowing that he’s exposed and vulnerable out here; it will only lead to trouble.
no subject
Then he puffs air out his vents.
"Nah, he can keep the spot," Spinister says. "'Cause it's a dump. Like his face."
"Let's leave." Without waiting for an answer, the heli grabs Tarn by his arm and tries to urge him along. "I don't like this place and I don't him neither."
no subject
For the moment.
"Regardless of my entitlement to the land itself," he says dismissively, for he is a Prime, and his right to claim is hardly up for discussion, "I have not demanded your departure yet because, as I said, I am curious. Despite the fact that you both are very near to contaminating my sampling site." And he lifts one hand to point at the polished piece of steel beam jammed into the earth a few metres behind the pair.
He hates that he needs physical markers. But he should be able to correct that soon enough, when he can complete a proper map. He sets aside that concern for now to focus on his unexpected company, and stops with his feet on level ground and several lengths still between them.
"So I will ask more directly, once," he adds, tone polite but voice steely. "What are two Decepticons doing so far from civilisation?"
no subject
Who does he think he is being so bold as to pry into his personal business, demanding that he explain himself for his mere presence. There may be nothing here, but like hell is he going to allow them to be chased off like vermin
“It’s none of his business, is it?” Tarn cocks his head, daring Sentinel to dispute him.
no subject
What are the samples for? Was he some kind of scientist dude? Spinister didn't really like scientist dudes. They were always up to some weird, skeevy scrap that usually ends up with a couple people dead.
A fate he's trying very hard to prevent right now, but Tarn seems content on being a bent exhaust pipe. Eventually, the heli gives up trying to tug Tarn along and just dangles from the bigger mech's arm like a weird, giant, spacerobot limpet.
"Uuuuuugggggghh."
no subject
He needs time to prepare for any more unwanted company.
"You see, I am studying this Cybertron," he says, and gestures to the surrounding terrain with both open hands. "How it died, how it has returned to life. Out here, I can work in peace, without disruptions such as you." He drops his hands to his sides and glares at the two of them.
no subject
"Leave us alone and we will allow you to continue your work unhindered. But, I promise you that if you choose to fight me, there will be no rock that you can hide under. I will find you, and I will kill you; slowly and painfu-- painfully. You will beg for the mercy of death by the time that I am finished with you."
He cringes as his mangled voice breaks, ruining the impact of his threat ever so slightly. Still, Tarn is hoping that perhaps a bit of grandiose threatening will be enough to get the mech to stop poking in their business and continue on his way.
no subject
Well. He can think of several things things, BUT that was besides the point.
"Please don't beat him up," he says, peering around Tarn's shouler. "I just spent, like, two weeks fixing him."
Sorry, Tarn.
no subject
"Your bravado, though laudable, is sorely misplaced," he says with tired incredulity, settling his gaze again squarely on Tarn and shaking his head once in something like pity. "You, who can hardly shield your companion, threaten a Prime?" Sentinel makes a low, disparaging sound and his lip curls in a sneer. "You would allow me that which is already my right? Indeed." What little humour there is in his voice fades, replaced entirely by scorn as he starts closing the gap between them. "You, a pair of mongrels rooting in the dust for scraps…."
And then, unless they get any ideas about attempting to carry out their ridiculous threats, he strides past them to collect his samples. He has work to do, work that is far more important to him than continuing to subject himself to all this posturing.
no subject
He stares, incredulous, as Sentinel walks right past to continue his previous task as if nothing had happened. Tarn's hand shoots out to grab the Prime by his forearm, his grip like iron.
"How like a Prime to belittle another so indiscriminately... I'll have you're head you pompous wretch." He tries to drag sentinel closer. If only his vocalizer was intact; how sweet his death would be...
Unless Spinister says something to distract Tarn right now, a fight is going to break out and it's not going to be pretty.
no subject
"Hooooowwwww about we don't do this thing," Spin says, planting one hand on Tarn's chest and the other on Sentinel's shoulder, trying to keep them apart. "How about we don't? I think thing we're about to do is not something we should do. It's a bad idea."
He pauses, looking between them and trying not to let his rotors spin up in anxiety.
"... You should let go of him, Tarn," he stage whispers loudly to his companion, trying to work the purple mech's fingers loose.