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
"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.