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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 2, 2008 22:14:51 GMT -5
"Start?" Emirate Xaaron asks quietly, his voice sounding distant, as if he was very far away. "I feel... something there. Pulling."
It's starting to hurt a bit, in fact, like the biting prickles of a deep freeze. Emirate Xaaron's feeling a bit weak and weary, empty inside.
Unthinkingly, he leans closer to Rodimus Prime, who is still vibrant and alive, despite the taint.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Oct 3, 2008 16:12:53 GMT -5
Rodimus is not aware that Emirate Xaaron has started to hurt.
If he was, the Prime would stop now.
Rodimus does not prevent Emirate Xaaron from leaning nearer. He is still too focused on what's going on in realms unseen.
"All right, then," Prime murmurs, optics still dim. "Then it seems to be working." His mental grip closes tighter around the flicker-flame, working to leave it less and less access to the outside world.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 3, 2008 19:14:27 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron does not intend to voice his pain, if he can avoid it. He knows Autobots, and they hate to see each other suffer, for the most part. However, this needs to be done.
His optics dim and flicker as he's drawn out of himself. His fingers tremble, ever so slightly. Emirate Xaaron presses hard against Rodimus Prime, if he is allowed.
He aches, as if he had been flooded internally and now the ice is cracking him from inside out. The pain is immense! But Rodimus Prime burns brightly, the friendly warmth of a hearth fire, and Emirate Xaaron can ignore the sickly incense of Unicron that has been thrown into the fire when he is a man dying of cold.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Oct 3, 2008 21:17:05 GMT -5
The mechanoid in Rodimus Prime's lap is stoiching himself to death, and the Prime has no clue.
However, Emirate Xaaron pressing harder against him does get his attention. He doesn't prevent it, and one hand automatically comes up as though to comfort the other. A mechanoid like Emirate Xaaron does not do something like this unless there is something wrong.
(Or so Rodimus Prime assumes. He doesn't know of Xaaron's history of giving hugs to Primes.)
In the astral realm, he pauses. He does not close the flicker-light off from the rest of the world, but nor does he loosen his grip. In the physical realm he asks, voice soft and tone concerned, "You all right, Emirate?"
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 3, 2008 22:01:43 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron shivers, optics very dim, and he tries to claw his fingers into Rodimus Prime's flame-painted chest, as if he could touch the heat inside and warm himself on the fires of the nearest chunk of Primus.
Of course, even if his hands connect, there is no way he can get through Rodimus Prime's armour. He'd break his fingers first. Emirate Xaaron might just be breaking his fingers today - and he still hasn't seen to his injuries from the battle.
Rodimus Prime's touch assures him, but he can't manage a reply at the question.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Oct 3, 2008 23:35:52 GMT -5
While the silence and the contact was not cause for worry, the shivering and clawing does. Rodimus's lips part faintly and his optics open wider in alarm, the light coming back to them full force. He relinquishes his hold, such as it was, over the divine lifeforce he had sensed within the other, and leans forward.
"Emirate? Emirate Xaaron?"
This is bad. Very bad.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 4, 2008 20:22:30 GMT -5
One moment, he felt like a dying man, reaching out desperately for life, even a life not his own. The next, Emirate Xaaron rushes back into himself, like a warm tide. His optics brighten feverishly, and he shudders, convulsing spasmodically.
For a moment, he feels too small for his skin, but he settles back into himself.
Emirate Xaaron struggles for words, reeling, and what he comes up with is a sputtered, "Why did you stop? We had almost... almost... got somewhere."
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Oct 4, 2008 23:01:12 GMT -5
"Yeah, but I'm not sure I wanted to go where we were heading," Rodimus answers Emirate Xaaron, frown painting his expression as he looks down at the robot in his lap. "You were clawing at me. Something was wrong."
"Besides," he continues, "I think we got far enough to show it can be done. That's all we really needed to know, right?"
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 5, 2008 10:34:23 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron still shudders, his movements fainter now and erratic. He feels incredibly weak, and he aches all over, out of sorts. Emirate Xaaron does not draw away, partially for the assurance, partially because he doesn't have the energy to manage it, even if he wanted to.
Emirate Xaaron sputters, "What can be done? What did we even accomplish, here? We showed that you can make me woozy if I sit still and don't try to shoot you in the face of the middle of it. Do you think your alternate is going to sit down for you?"
He does have the energy to manage a slight smirk.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Oct 5, 2008 15:22:59 GMT -5
"No," Rodimus snaps, optics narrowed in annoyance. "But I was intentionally taking things slowly for your sake, something I'm not going to do for my alternate, either."
"But I don't see that I need to kill you slowly to test my ability to shut him off quickly," the Prime adds, chiding. "That doesn't accomplish anything, either."
"Or do you want to try this again," the Prime's voice is tired, though he's not near as exhausted at Emirate Xaaron, "only with you attacking me this time?" It's likely that Rodimus is joking. Emirate Xaaron doesn't look like he has the energy to go through another try, and the Prime doubts he can, either.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 5, 2008 18:18:10 GMT -5
So Emirate Xaaron is not the only annoyed Autobot in this room.
He mutters, words running into each other from exhaustion, "We really should, but if I'm that close to your alternate, hrm..."
Emirate Xaaron attempts to reach out to touch Rodimus Prime. He misses. This is point blank range.
He's really tired, and his body is whining all these damage warnings at him, when he knows nothing is wrong. It's frustrating.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Oct 5, 2008 21:22:10 GMT -5
Rodimus Prime watches Emirate Xaaron miss, optics dull. He sighs, and leans back against the wall of the box.
"We know enough to know it's got a chance to work," he murmurs. "More than we knew... enough chance to be worth the risk." He starts to move, then decides against it. His mind, his confused thoughts, are just calling out for defragmentation right now.
"Know I can't... sacrifice..." Because he's the living sacrifice, "but... can't completely avoid risk... to take my alternate out, this is worth the try..."
He'll be slipping into recovery mode soon enough.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 6, 2008 8:17:10 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron murmurs, "I can."
He is expendable. He always has been. He always will be, until the day he dies.
Concerned, he inquires, voice faint, "Prime? Are you all right?"
Because Emirate Xaaron is really starting to think that he, personally, isn't, and it would be nice if one of them was. He thinks that he should at least get off Rodimus Prime's lap, but his optics flicker as his systems cry out of a period of shutdown to sort themselves out.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Oct 6, 2008 10:45:00 GMT -5
"No worse than normal," Rodimus answers tiredly. "Well, tired. That was exhausting - looks like that's an all or nothing shot."
The Prime doesn't move to push Emirate Xaaron off, but he does adjust his position to one more comfortable. "Be best if we hit him first - pound him hard so he's off balance before we try anything."
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Oct 6, 2008 18:54:04 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron is fighting to stay awake and coherent. He really needs to get off Rodimus Prime's lap, and... pounding? What? When? Where?
Oh, their enemy. Right. Fuzzily, he asks, "...what if he's tried this?"
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