It was amazing how much work was necessary for a small get together, but also how quickly and easily it went with the help of another person. Especially when that person happened to be on staff
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Why was he even here? There was absolutely no reason for him to go to a "party". Even if it was an invitation from the woman he'd known on the Elegante. He didn't feel like celebrating anything.
... being at a party just reminded him of that ship. And the people there that were no longer here. Ratchet would have enjoyed this nonsense.
So he just lurked on the edges of the party -- huge, black, and sulking.
Aht had arrived at the party along with a small wave of guests. There would be a lot of people here; maybe Stocke would be among them. Disappoint over not finding him was finally beginning to set in, and spurring her to work harder at looking.
But tonight, she'd look and be festive. After all, Uncle Vanoss would not approve if she didn't provide some measure of entertainment.
So she skipped along, flute out and playing a rather joyous melody, that is until she happened upon Ironhide. Was this a thaumatech machine from Alistel? Either way, colored her impressed. Have two wide teal eyes staring up at you, 'Hide.
Ironhide sort of disliked being stared at. He knew he was impressive, like nothing most humans had ever seen before. He also knew he was intimidating. But the staring grew tiresome after a while, unlike the almost amusing reactions of people when they realized they were talking to him on the network.
Children though... children seemed to be the exception to every rule in his book. Instead of shooing the girl away, he merely looked back at her, tilting his head.
Wow! He spoke! Aht was awe-struck. He. Is. So. Cool. Maybe not as cool as Stocke (or Kevas), but hot dang, Ironhide you're right up there. It took her a moment to realize she was still staring. She practically beams and waves a hand at Ironhide.
With so many humans in this keep, Equius is having a difficult time seeing who would actually prove to be a challenge in battle. All he can see are weaklings, aside from that rude green beast and...
This large machine.
He's not going to say anything. None of the robots he had constructed were ever capable of speech, so the same must be true for any metal being. But he is silently staring up at Ironhide. He's almost reminded of a large construction droid or metal imperial drone, so is keeping a respectable distance.
If the strange grey thing isn't going to speak up, then Ironhide has nothing to say to it, either. He stares back, massive arms folded, and something akin to distaste on his scarred old faceplates.
Hmph. It seems someone has programmed some SASS into this robot. Well two can play that game, Ironhide. Equius folds his much smaller arms in a similar fashion, still making his unhappy face as if he's waiting for this machine to go into kill mode and fight him.
He does, however, see what seem like battle scars and scratches. That gains a slight sliver of respect and curiosity from the troll. Obviously this metallic being is no stranger to conflicts.
He shifts his weight. His expression, and his posture, are unchanging. He's not impressed. After a moment of staring at it, he turns his attention elsewhere, to something more interesting.
Equius won't be having any of this, killbot. He runs to the side a bit, putting himself in view of Ironhide again.
"What's your primary function, robot? Construction?"
That's the only thing aside from fighting he can think of. Oh, he hopes it's fighting. He hasn't demolished one of his robots in quite awhile... He might have a harder time with Ironhide...MAYBE.
The big Autobot snorts, and swings his head back around to regard the stranger with a narrowed optic. Does he really look like a Constructicon? Really?
"Combat."
Another snort, before he turns his head away again.
"What is yours? Aside from asking stupid questions. That one was clear."
Aha! Equius has blown your cover, Ironhide. The clawed beast is out of the bag! Does his cunning and sharp mind know no bounds? Combat, then. It's more of a reflex than anything, as Equius doesn't really plan to start a fight at whatever a "party" was, but the young troll's fists are raised in an unmistakable "Let us do battle" stance. Just imagine how his moirail would react...
"Just as I thought. Has your attack mode been activated, yet? How would I go about activating it in the future..."
A snort? All this distasteful rudeness! If Equius didn't know better, he'd suspect Sollux to be behind some of this programming.
"Mine is also combat. I've destroyed many of y- It is not asking stupid questions!"
... Attack mode? Really? This organic was just full of winning statements today. He could stand here and argue with the stranger -- no, he was not some combat drone, and no, he was not interested in kicking an organic across the green. Not right now. But he doubted that conversation was going to go anywhere intelligent.
Plus, there was really no way an organic could have destroyed an Autobot without the right weapons and training. He'd have heard about it.
"Good for you."
With that, the old soldier turned his back on the organic, in an unmistakable gesture of his own -- one of dismissal.
"Indeed it was good for me! Wait! Ugh- absolutely unruly behavior is not of the norm for mechanical beings."
Equius has to take a few more steps, running all the way around until he's directly in front of Ironhide. His fists are lowered, but still clenched. This young troll will be harder to get rid of than you might think.
"Who put you up to this? Was it Captor's programming? Did he have something to do with this? Where did he find the parts necessary for such a large automaton in a keep this primitive."
If he'd needed any more evidence this organic had no dealings with his kind... that statement proved it. "Unruly behavior" was the norm for a lot of the younger Autobots -- and all Decepticons. However, he was still prepared to ignore the irritant... but there it was. Right in front of him.
He let the organic ramble, staring at it with a flat, bored expression. Only when it finished, did Ironhide cycle a long rush of air, and speak.
"I am an Autobot. Sentient mechanical being, created by the All Spark. I fight under Optimus Prime. Not from your world, not made by anything or anyone you know. I have been through more wars, more battles than you have seen days in your life. I am tired, I need to refuel."
His good optic narrowed, and a hard edge crept into his voice. He could feel the panels of his forearms shifting, letting his cannons unfold. Most humans found the posture threatening -- even if the 'bot had no interest in a fight right now.
... being at a party just reminded him of that ship. And the people there that were no longer here. Ratchet would have enjoyed this nonsense.
So he just lurked on the edges of the party -- huge, black, and sulking.
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But tonight, she'd look and be festive. After all, Uncle Vanoss would not approve if she didn't provide some measure of entertainment.
So she skipped along, flute out and playing a rather joyous melody, that is until she happened upon Ironhide. Was this a thaumatech machine from Alistel? Either way, colored her impressed. Have two wide teal eyes staring up at you, 'Hide.
Reply
Children though... children seemed to be the exception to every rule in his book. Instead of shooing the girl away, he merely looked back at her, tilting his head.
"Who are you?"
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"I'm Aht. What's your name?"
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"Ironhide."
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"Are you a thaumatech?"
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This large machine.
He's not going to say anything. None of the robots he had constructed were ever capable of speech, so the same must be true for any metal being. But he is silently staring up at Ironhide. He's almost reminded of a large construction droid or metal imperial drone, so is keeping a respectable distance.
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He does, however, see what seem like battle scars and scratches. That gains a slight sliver of respect and curiosity from the troll. Obviously this metallic being is no stranger to conflicts.
Reply
He shifts his weight. His expression, and his posture, are unchanging. He's not impressed. After a moment of staring at it, he turns his attention elsewhere, to something more interesting.
Reply
Equius won't be having any of this, killbot. He runs to the side a bit, putting himself in view of Ironhide again.
"What's your primary function, robot? Construction?"
That's the only thing aside from fighting he can think of. Oh, he hopes it's fighting. He hasn't demolished one of his robots in quite awhile... He might have a harder time with Ironhide...MAYBE.
Reply
"Combat."
Another snort, before he turns his head away again.
"What is yours? Aside from asking stupid questions. That one was clear."
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"Just as I thought. Has your attack mode been activated, yet? How would I go about activating it in the future..."
A snort? All this distasteful rudeness! If Equius didn't know better, he'd suspect Sollux to be behind some of this programming.
"Mine is also combat. I've destroyed many of y- It is not asking stupid questions!"
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Plus, there was really no way an organic could have destroyed an Autobot without the right weapons and training. He'd have heard about it.
"Good for you."
With that, the old soldier turned his back on the organic, in an unmistakable gesture of his own -- one of dismissal.
Reply
Equius has to take a few more steps, running all the way around until he's directly in front of Ironhide. His fists are lowered, but still clenched. This young troll will be harder to get rid of than you might think.
"Who put you up to this? Was it Captor's programming? Did he have something to do with this? Where did he find the parts necessary for such a large automaton in a keep this primitive."
Reply
He let the organic ramble, staring at it with a flat, bored expression. Only when it finished, did Ironhide cycle a long rush of air, and speak.
"I am an Autobot. Sentient mechanical being, created by the All Spark. I fight under Optimus Prime. Not from your world, not made by anything or anyone you know. I have been through more wars, more battles than you have seen days in your life. I am tired, I need to refuel."
His good optic narrowed, and a hard edge crept into his voice. He could feel the panels of his forearms shifting, letting his cannons unfold. Most humans found the posture threatening -- even if the 'bot had no interest in a fight right now.
"Are you satisfied?"
Reply
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