[fic] [fluff] [DZ] Dragonfly
Takes place during the re-aging plot. Probably utterly flubbed ElderHoli, so I apologize, but... the fluff would not leave me alone.
Curiously, one hand gripping the edge of the doorway was black, while the other was white. Or, rather, it seemed to be covered in something white. Perceptor's wide blue optics fixed upon Swerve as the grumpy racer stalked and stomped his way around the lab before finally vanishing through the far doorway.
Swerve sure had been rather irritable ever since Kup had started spending so much time around him. Perceptor couldn't understand why; Kup always tried to be so helpful! Swerve was much scarier now, though, with his scowl and his constant sub-vocal grumbling and the nigh perpetual irritation at the world. Scary enough to keep Perceptor hovering near the doorway, peeking around the doorjamb for several long minutes after the racer had left, before he dared to venture forth into the utterly enchanting room.
The cloth which he used to keep the lenses of his scope polished clean clutched tightly in one hand, Perceptor nibbled absently on the first knuckle of his free hand and peered up at the counters above his head. There were things up there, very shiny things that he remembered could perform the most fascinating of tasks!
It only took a moment to locate the step-stool - it was almost taller than him - that he pushed into place up against the end of one counter. Two small hands gripped the edge of the counter for a moment before a familiar black helm slowly rose into view until Perceptor could just see onto the counter's surface. His optics did not quite sparkle at the wondrous sight before him, but there arose such a look of quiet awe in those youthful features as he absorbed the sight of the tools and display screens and beakers filled with colored liquids of nearly every hue. Somewhere amidst the glitter and flash of the workbench surface, the micronized scientist was quite certain that he recalled a flask of ammonium hydroxide and a small supply of purified iodine crystals. Proper application of the two compounds should yield an amusing chemical reaction, particularly if carefully applied to Xaaron's favorite chair!
Perceptor beamed quietly to himself as he continued staring across the workbench-cum-promised-land and its bounty of beakers and containers and-
What was that curious blue liquid? Perceptor did not recall that blue solution! The stepstool clattered to the floor, knocked over in Perceptor's haste to scramble up onto the table's surface to reach that flask and its blue solution. Half-formed plans had long past fluttered away on dragonfly wings as Perceptor carefully, gently, reverently grasped the flask in both hands to lift it to optic level so that he might study it most intently. So very pretty! This would definitely require further study!
Of course, apparently no one had realized, just yet, precisely how dangerous a micronized scientist retaining all of his innate curiosity, but with the addition of poor impulse control, and the attention span of a fledgling gnat could be. If they had, surely someone would have noticed Perceptor's disappearance long before he'd had hours to himself in the laboratory/workshop which he considered his rightful domain.
Having been adopted by the pint-sized cheerful terror, it was Holi, of course, who was the first to notice. With a sinking feeling of vague dread as he reckoned the hours he'd been without his little shadow, he wandered down familiar corridors to an equally familiar doorway.
The first and most obvious thing one noticed when peering through said doorway was the paint. Every shade imaginable, and some not meant to be discovered in multiple shades and luminosities covered nearly every surface in irregular splotches. There seemed to be a larger portion of something approximating Xaaron's bright gold and a familiar dark blue than any other hue, but if a technicolored plasma bomb had detonated in the confines of the lab, it likely would have been neater.
And less riotous.
There were flowers growing out of the countertop. Oh, they were misshapen and oddly colored, and obviously molded by small hands and a wild imagination but they were quite recognizably flowers. Flowers molded from hydrocarbon polymers, if the blops and drips covering the counter near them, and still half-filling the containers carefully organized not far away from the haphazard display, were anything to go by. On one corner of the workbench, a burner carefully regulated a bright blue flame that was being used to boil a viscous clear liquid. Paint had been wiped clear of one display screen so that the chemical formulas and complicated equations could be read through the mess.
That's what Perceptor was peering intently at, a pair of beakers clutched carefully in his little hands as he scanned the figures and nodded, tipping one beaker of blazing orange fluid over the other of raucous green.
"Perceptor?" Holi breathed, stunned almost to silence by the chaos.
Perceptor had gotten a smudge of dark blue paint on his cheek, Holi absently noted as the smaller mech turned a guilty look toward the doorway. Guilt faded to exuberant cheer, Perceptor's optics lighting up as he caught sight of the elder mech.
"Mister Holi, sir!" he chirped as he set the beakers down without mixing them. "I manufactured flowers for Miss Arcee, Mister Holi, sir! Do you think she will enjoy them?"
He bounced across the paint-spattered surface of the countertop to where the odd, alien flowers were "growing", beaming proudly as he peered at them, and continuing to babble multi-syllabic words as fast as his vocal processor could string them together.
"They're very pretty," Holi agreed absently as he started forward into the disaster area that had once been a neat and tidy workshop.
"And I also manufactured the appropriate shade of paint for Mister Xaaron and for- Mister Holi, sir! STOP!" Perceptor cried, waving his little arms frantically. "You will activate the-"
Holi didn't even register the crunch of treated iodine crystals crumbling under his foot before the whole world tilted crazily on its axis and he found himself in the hallway, staring at the ceiling. Fortunately, none of his damage control systems registered anything significant - minor scorching on the bottom of that foot, and his gyros were whining at him from his tumble, but nothing more.
"Mister Holi, sir?" Perceptor murmured worriedly, somehow having materialized at his side. The little mech's optics were wide with solemn concern as he peered down at Holi, that miraculously spotless white cloth clutched in one hand. "Are you all right?"
Holi groaned softly as he slowly levered himself up into a sitting position against the corridor wall behind him. "What... was that?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head with one hand as he examined the floor where he'd tried to step.
"Security system," Perceptor mumbled, staring at his feet. "To keep Mister Swerve out. He is... scary."
"Huh. I think it would've worked," Holi replied, rolling his shoulders to work the kink out.
"I manufactured a dragonfly for you, Mister Holi, sir," Perceptor offers in an apologetic little whisper, holding out his other hand. There was, indeed, a somewhat inexpertly shaped figure molded of the same hydrocarbon polymers as Arcee's flowers resting on Perceptor's palm. Perhaps dragonflies on some worlds might only have had four wings, however this jewel-toned creation of petrochemical filigree looked rather dashing with six.
At least, that's what Perceptor apparently hoped, if the faintly eager look he turned on Holi was anything to judge by. Hope faded quickly, though, as Perceptor ducked his head to stare guiltily at his feet once again.
"It was intended to be a surprise. Like Miss Arcee's flowers."
Holi couldn't help himself; he chuckled. Technicolor chaos, chemical disasters, and exploding floors notwithstanding, the sight of that gaily colored little figure sitting so placidly on Perceptor's outstretched hand juxtaposed with the pristine white blanket and the dejected, waiting-for-the-executioner's-axe-to-fall slump to Perceptor's shoulders just tickled Holi's sense of the absurd so thoroughly, that he couldn't not laugh.
"It's lovely, Perceptor," he finally managed, accepting the gift and examining it from every angle, much to Perceptor's delight. "Very lovely."
Fortunately for both of them, Holi was still seated on the floor and leaning up against the wall. A micronized scientist can hit with more force than one would privately calculate when he's minded to hug someone fiercely, which is exactly what Perceptor had been minded to do at Holi's pronouncement.
Holi was still chuckling as he levered himself up off the floor, finally, Perceptor balanced against one arm since he didn't seem minded to let go of Holi's neck anytime soon. "Very lovely," Holi repeated, tucking the dragonfly away. "And I think Arcee'll love her flowers. But we should probably tidy things up a bit now, before someone stumbles onto your surprise, yeah?"
Perceptor nodded rapidly, optics once again shining brightly.
"Are you certain? I chose to manufacture them in teal, as teal is a complimentary shade to pink and white, and I surmised that she would appreciate an item that was pleasing to her optical sensors," he babbled excitedly with expressive gesticulations to punctuate his speech. He didn't even slow down when Holi reached up to wipe away the smudge of blue paint from the smaller mech's cheek.
Holi couldn't help but chuckle again as Perceptor continued on, explaining in great detail the process involved in the item's manufacture, and reiterating how much he hoped that "Miss Arcee" would like her surprise.
Perceptor fell silent quite suddenly, a sly look entering his expression for the briefest of moments as Holi carefully set him back on his feet on the counter amidst the chaos. As quickly as it flashed through, calculation was replaced by utter innocence.
"I manufactured a surprise for Mister Xaaron, as well. Do you know, Mister Holi, sir, if he is occupying his preferred chair at the moment?"
Oh dear. No good could possibly come of this. For some reason, that pleased Holi just fine.
Curiously, one hand gripping the edge of the doorway was black, while the other was white. Or, rather, it seemed to be covered in something white. Perceptor's wide blue optics fixed upon Swerve as the grumpy racer stalked and stomped his way around the lab before finally vanishing through the far doorway.
Swerve sure had been rather irritable ever since Kup had started spending so much time around him. Perceptor couldn't understand why; Kup always tried to be so helpful! Swerve was much scarier now, though, with his scowl and his constant sub-vocal grumbling and the nigh perpetual irritation at the world. Scary enough to keep Perceptor hovering near the doorway, peeking around the doorjamb for several long minutes after the racer had left, before he dared to venture forth into the utterly enchanting room.
The cloth which he used to keep the lenses of his scope polished clean clutched tightly in one hand, Perceptor nibbled absently on the first knuckle of his free hand and peered up at the counters above his head. There were things up there, very shiny things that he remembered could perform the most fascinating of tasks!
It only took a moment to locate the step-stool - it was almost taller than him - that he pushed into place up against the end of one counter. Two small hands gripped the edge of the counter for a moment before a familiar black helm slowly rose into view until Perceptor could just see onto the counter's surface. His optics did not quite sparkle at the wondrous sight before him, but there arose such a look of quiet awe in those youthful features as he absorbed the sight of the tools and display screens and beakers filled with colored liquids of nearly every hue. Somewhere amidst the glitter and flash of the workbench surface, the micronized scientist was quite certain that he recalled a flask of ammonium hydroxide and a small supply of purified iodine crystals. Proper application of the two compounds should yield an amusing chemical reaction, particularly if carefully applied to Xaaron's favorite chair!
Perceptor beamed quietly to himself as he continued staring across the workbench-cum-promised-land and its bounty of beakers and containers and-
What was that curious blue liquid? Perceptor did not recall that blue solution! The stepstool clattered to the floor, knocked over in Perceptor's haste to scramble up onto the table's surface to reach that flask and its blue solution. Half-formed plans had long past fluttered away on dragonfly wings as Perceptor carefully, gently, reverently grasped the flask in both hands to lift it to optic level so that he might study it most intently. So very pretty! This would definitely require further study!
Of course, apparently no one had realized, just yet, precisely how dangerous a micronized scientist retaining all of his innate curiosity, but with the addition of poor impulse control, and the attention span of a fledgling gnat could be. If they had, surely someone would have noticed Perceptor's disappearance long before he'd had hours to himself in the laboratory/workshop which he considered his rightful domain.
Having been adopted by the pint-sized cheerful terror, it was Holi, of course, who was the first to notice. With a sinking feeling of vague dread as he reckoned the hours he'd been without his little shadow, he wandered down familiar corridors to an equally familiar doorway.
The first and most obvious thing one noticed when peering through said doorway was the paint. Every shade imaginable, and some not meant to be discovered in multiple shades and luminosities covered nearly every surface in irregular splotches. There seemed to be a larger portion of something approximating Xaaron's bright gold and a familiar dark blue than any other hue, but if a technicolored plasma bomb had detonated in the confines of the lab, it likely would have been neater.
And less riotous.
There were flowers growing out of the countertop. Oh, they were misshapen and oddly colored, and obviously molded by small hands and a wild imagination but they were quite recognizably flowers. Flowers molded from hydrocarbon polymers, if the blops and drips covering the counter near them, and still half-filling the containers carefully organized not far away from the haphazard display, were anything to go by. On one corner of the workbench, a burner carefully regulated a bright blue flame that was being used to boil a viscous clear liquid. Paint had been wiped clear of one display screen so that the chemical formulas and complicated equations could be read through the mess.
That's what Perceptor was peering intently at, a pair of beakers clutched carefully in his little hands as he scanned the figures and nodded, tipping one beaker of blazing orange fluid over the other of raucous green.
"Perceptor?" Holi breathed, stunned almost to silence by the chaos.
Perceptor had gotten a smudge of dark blue paint on his cheek, Holi absently noted as the smaller mech turned a guilty look toward the doorway. Guilt faded to exuberant cheer, Perceptor's optics lighting up as he caught sight of the elder mech.
"Mister Holi, sir!" he chirped as he set the beakers down without mixing them. "I manufactured flowers for Miss Arcee, Mister Holi, sir! Do you think she will enjoy them?"
He bounced across the paint-spattered surface of the countertop to where the odd, alien flowers were "growing", beaming proudly as he peered at them, and continuing to babble multi-syllabic words as fast as his vocal processor could string them together.
"They're very pretty," Holi agreed absently as he started forward into the disaster area that had once been a neat and tidy workshop.
"And I also manufactured the appropriate shade of paint for Mister Xaaron and for- Mister Holi, sir! STOP!" Perceptor cried, waving his little arms frantically. "You will activate the-"
Holi didn't even register the crunch of treated iodine crystals crumbling under his foot before the whole world tilted crazily on its axis and he found himself in the hallway, staring at the ceiling. Fortunately, none of his damage control systems registered anything significant - minor scorching on the bottom of that foot, and his gyros were whining at him from his tumble, but nothing more.
"Mister Holi, sir?" Perceptor murmured worriedly, somehow having materialized at his side. The little mech's optics were wide with solemn concern as he peered down at Holi, that miraculously spotless white cloth clutched in one hand. "Are you all right?"
Holi groaned softly as he slowly levered himself up into a sitting position against the corridor wall behind him. "What... was that?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head with one hand as he examined the floor where he'd tried to step.
"Security system," Perceptor mumbled, staring at his feet. "To keep Mister Swerve out. He is... scary."
"Huh. I think it would've worked," Holi replied, rolling his shoulders to work the kink out.
"I manufactured a dragonfly for you, Mister Holi, sir," Perceptor offers in an apologetic little whisper, holding out his other hand. There was, indeed, a somewhat inexpertly shaped figure molded of the same hydrocarbon polymers as Arcee's flowers resting on Perceptor's palm. Perhaps dragonflies on some worlds might only have had four wings, however this jewel-toned creation of petrochemical filigree looked rather dashing with six.
At least, that's what Perceptor apparently hoped, if the faintly eager look he turned on Holi was anything to judge by. Hope faded quickly, though, as Perceptor ducked his head to stare guiltily at his feet once again.
"It was intended to be a surprise. Like Miss Arcee's flowers."
Holi couldn't help himself; he chuckled. Technicolor chaos, chemical disasters, and exploding floors notwithstanding, the sight of that gaily colored little figure sitting so placidly on Perceptor's outstretched hand juxtaposed with the pristine white blanket and the dejected, waiting-for-the-executioner's-axe-to-fall slump to Perceptor's shoulders just tickled Holi's sense of the absurd so thoroughly, that he couldn't not laugh.
"It's lovely, Perceptor," he finally managed, accepting the gift and examining it from every angle, much to Perceptor's delight. "Very lovely."
Fortunately for both of them, Holi was still seated on the floor and leaning up against the wall. A micronized scientist can hit with more force than one would privately calculate when he's minded to hug someone fiercely, which is exactly what Perceptor had been minded to do at Holi's pronouncement.
Holi was still chuckling as he levered himself up off the floor, finally, Perceptor balanced against one arm since he didn't seem minded to let go of Holi's neck anytime soon. "Very lovely," Holi repeated, tucking the dragonfly away. "And I think Arcee'll love her flowers. But we should probably tidy things up a bit now, before someone stumbles onto your surprise, yeah?"
Perceptor nodded rapidly, optics once again shining brightly.
"Are you certain? I chose to manufacture them in teal, as teal is a complimentary shade to pink and white, and I surmised that she would appreciate an item that was pleasing to her optical sensors," he babbled excitedly with expressive gesticulations to punctuate his speech. He didn't even slow down when Holi reached up to wipe away the smudge of blue paint from the smaller mech's cheek.
Holi couldn't help but chuckle again as Perceptor continued on, explaining in great detail the process involved in the item's manufacture, and reiterating how much he hoped that "Miss Arcee" would like her surprise.
Perceptor fell silent quite suddenly, a sly look entering his expression for the briefest of moments as Holi carefully set him back on his feet on the counter amidst the chaos. As quickly as it flashed through, calculation was replaced by utter innocence.
"I manufactured a surprise for Mister Xaaron, as well. Do you know, Mister Holi, sir, if he is occupying his preferred chair at the moment?"
Oh dear. No good could possibly come of this. For some reason, that pleased Holi just fine.