trapped again, brighter still. [OPEN]
who ; Harry Mason & YOU.
what ; For once, Harry tries to sit back and relax.
where ; Garden Zone
when ; Tuesday afternoon.
warning(s) n/a
notes ; Anyone with scanning equipment (and are, for the most part, synthetic) may note that scanning Harry will come up as "corrupted data". Otherwise, that's about it.
( nothing but static on the radio )
what ; For once, Harry tries to sit back and relax.
where ; Garden Zone
when ; Tuesday afternoon.
warning(s) n/a
notes ; Anyone with scanning equipment (and are, for the most part, synthetic) may note that scanning Harry will come up as "corrupted data". Otherwise, that's about it.
( nothing but static on the radio )
Truth told, he was bored out of his mind. He'd gone through a few of the museums and explored some of the garden zones, which had... actually they were rather nice. Some of them almost captured the feeling of being under open sky.
He could troll the network as the drone, he supposed, but honestly that body was confining and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the ruse. Megatron had seen right through it, which meant Soundwave probably had too, and... ... well. Anyway. Besides, what was the point? He was starting to like a few of these people, and at this rate he'd be even softer than he'd been in the City.
Perhaps not a bad thing.
He'd flown around this Zone before, but he still found it decent enough, even if he couldn't really feel the wind, and even if he'd rather be flying over a proper cityscape there was still something relaxing about the open air. He came in for a landing, going through the motions of a stall despite not actually generating lift.
And... walked right through the person who had been laying on the grass. Whoops.
"Er..."
Reply
He feels a strange sensation. A chill down his spine, one he has not had since the ghosts appeared in Discedo. That feeling, he knows quite well.
Harry's eyes snap open and he sits up, reaching back for his emergency hammer.
Then realizes it's. Some kind of. Robot ghost standing there.
"Huh."
Harry sets the hammer down, raising his brow faintly. "You're not a hologram, are you?"
Reply
"Er."
He rubs the back of his head. "Well, in a manner of speaking the projection is..."
Does he really have time to explain how he figures the spark image projection works? Really?
... well, yes, but it'd be terribly dull.
"No, not really."
Reply
The writer dusts off his jeans, observing the ghost before him.
"I have a pretty good idea. Maybe not exact, but death isn't really a stranger to me." He waves his hand a bit, as if to dismiss any lingering questions or concerns with that statement. "How long have you been like this?"
Reply
"Yes, precisely. In my case a spark," he says, turning to properly look at this human.
How long? Oh, Primus.
"Ah... three hundred years, I think." Discounting his time in the City, of course.
Reply
Three hundred years. Harry raises his brows a little.
"...That's unfortunate. Which, I understand doesn't speak how much you might have been through. No words can describe that sort of thing." Harry would pat the poor bastard on the shoulder if that were possible.
"You have my sympathies. Being dead isn't a treat, but I can't imagine what it's like after three centuries. Hell, I've only been dead for a year."
Harry's just lucky his body isn't rotting.
Reply
He shrugs. "It is what it is. You grow numb to it after the first century." A lie, of course - to this day he seethes and he wants to live. More than anything, he wants to feel wind under wings again.
He tilts his head at that. "You're dead too?"
And then he smirks, a wry little grin. "Tch, you don't look so bad, for a dead human. Thought they usually decomposed. Unless you're a hologram..?"
Reply
A shrug in return. "I never really figured out what happened to me. I know how I died, but I came back and... it did something to me. I'm dead but not; it's complicated. No decomposing for me, at least. Usually drives people off, anyway."
Reply
"It happens. The same's true for me, honestly. I know how I died, but this?" he gestures to his translucent form. "A mystery. Particularly my appearance. It... changes."
Actually, as he's been talking to Harry he's started to look a little more human. The wings remain, but many of his other mechanical elements have slowly melted away. A subconscious reaction to speaking with a human. To trying to think like a human.
"And as for decomposing, well, it's occasionally a hilarious party-trick."
He shrugs, his ailerons flexing a little. "What's your desig- name. What's your name, human?"
Reply
"So I can see," Harry muses. "Must be useful, I guess. You miss having a body?"
A small snort. "Yeah, well, it doesn't make for good hygiene."
There's a bit of a roll to Harry's eyes. "Harry Mason. What about you, robot spirit?"
Reply
"And it's not as if you humans are terribly hygenic when you aren't dead. All sloshing fluids and protein chains. Blegh."
He almost answers with his real name, but then stops, and shakes his head. "Better if it's not said. Too many people here who ... really shouldn't know I'm here."
Well, only two, really.
Reply
It's not a matter of pride. Hell, Harry doesn't even really have that to lose; he doesn't think much of himself. But it's the attitude that grates him a little.
He isn't going to put up with this.
"Well, gosh. That's too bad," Harry says flatly.
Picking up his equipment and borrowed book, the writer walks through Starscream. "Really nice talking with you, O' Nameless One, but I don't make a habit of talking to people too much on this subject -- at least, not people I don't know."
Reply
"Fine, whatever!" he snapped, walking off in the opposite direction.
Reply
Leave a comment