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Post by Mirage on Jun 16, 2010 22:37:19 GMT -5
Day 4, follows Skulking at the Spaceport. Open thread.
It hadn't taken terribly long for the sneaky pair to make it to the area that boasted the tea house Mirage mentioned previous. A short stop to change into their clothing (with Mirage being sure to allow Bambi as much privacy as she wished), and they are soon shown to a table.
Mirage has yet to amass a variety of clothing, so he's simply back in his off-the rack navy pinstripe suit.
The tea room actually caters to more than just the organic lovers of tea, providing fuel blends that mirror the tastes of its teas for the mechanical races. The warm wood tables are covered with neatly pressed linens and set with fine china plates and cups. The place is formal without being ostentatious, and actually doing a brisk business despite the late hour. It isn't too busy, really, but more than a handful of tables are full.
Mirage seats Bambi first, of course. They are left with a pair of menus and a plate of solid-fuel nibbles.
"Mmm, a decent selection," Mirage murmurs as he scans the menu, "Ladies choice, of course."
If Bambi is lost, Mirage will certainly order for them, of course.
Posing of Bambi done w/ permission.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 16, 2010 23:14:49 GMT -5
Bambi, weirdly, did want privacy to change, despite the fact that she usually runs around as a naked dinosaur. It's just... she's a girl, Mirage is a guy as far as she can tell, and most human cultures suggest that guys should not see girls dressing. Not that she's human or beholden to human norms, but... she doesn't know robot norms.
And robot norms don't involve clothing, anyway.
She changed into a charcoal ensemble, because it is night, after all, a riding jacket with too many buttons, gloves with entirely too many buttons, heeled boots with even more buttons, and a petticoat that is comparatively bereft of buttons.
And eee, Mirage sat her first! Bambi doesn't bounce in her seat, but only because she distracts herself by trying to do iridium isotope calculations in her head. But... fuels. Bambi stares at the menu for a bit and then pulls out a pocket guide to Pz-Zazzian slang and thumbs through it - the book is actually a bit big for her, given her (lack of) height.
After looking through her book, Bambi points at the menu with a gloved finger, looks up at Mirage, suggests, sounding surer than she actually is, "Aliphatic, iso-octane, and aromatic hydrocarbon blend with AR-AFFF foam cream topping and shot of nitrous?"
She looks around at the other patrons curiously, too. This is a nicer side of Pz-Zazzian night life than she's seen. Her fingers itch to get out her notebook and start jotting down observations.
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Post by Mirage on Jun 17, 2010 12:45:49 GMT -5
Mirage smiles and nods, "That will do nicely."
When the waiter returns, Mirage places their order just as Bambi requested, and adds a request for a sampling of their robot-appropriate pastries. The nibbles are, well, just nibbles, after all, and Mirage seldom gets to indulge in solid fuel artistry these days.
Once the waiter takes the order- along with anything Bambi might add- and leaves, Mirage takes one of those nibbles and offers it to Bambi.
"Now, you had questions for me regarding my choices?"
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 17, 2010 14:13:31 GMT -5
Bambi has nothing to add! There's going to be more than enough for her to eat and drink, even if she worked up an appetite climbing around earlier. She's not that big. Mostly, she just looks forward to that foam cream.
Bambi accepts the nibble, sniffing at it and holding it up to the light before popping it in her mouth. She at least chews with her mouth closed, though maybe treating it like it was some kind of scientific specimen first wasn't quite proper. "Mmm! That much better than, uh..." Bambi rubs the back of her head and looks around, deciding that now is not the time for details, "...other things."
She puts away her guidebook for now and pulls out her notebook and a pen instead, looking up at Mirage and explaining, "If you Mirage no mind. See, me Bambi not entirely sure why Decepticons bad. In home universe... Autobots fight humans in funny costumes. Them called 'super-villains'." She flips through her book and holds up a sketch of the Angry Archer. "So them humans find Autobots useful, though no all humans like Autobots." She flips through the book a bit more and points out a newspaper editorial decrying how Autobots are 'stealing police jobs' and 'wasting taxpayer money'. Then, she flips to an article about a priest trying to exorcise the Autobots, calling them the work of Satan. "Anyway, so, Decepticons no fight super-villains. Them Decepticons just fight Autobots. Or mind own business and get fought by Autobots, anyway. But this seem like... blood feud or something? Me Bambi not sure why they fighting, in first place."
Right, right, she needs to ask Prowl. She'll get to that. Someday.
She flips to some blank pages. "So me Bambi wonder why you Mirage fighting Decepticons. Why you think them bad. You from other universe, but you still fighting Decepticons here, and it give context to whole situation." Her optics glitter with fascination, and she's clearly ready to listen.
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Post by Mirage on Jun 17, 2010 21:54:45 GMT -5
Mirage takes in Bambi's notes with obvious interest, and it isn't feigned. He knows precious little about her reality, after all.
He also must admit that her points are valid. Mirage is...also surprised to find her base concerns so similar to his own when he first took up the brand. Similar to concerns he still has, for that matter.
"Well, first you must understand that I come from a point very early in my own realities war, and from a reality where neither faction- Autobot or Decepticon- existed before Megatron began amassing followers," Mirage says softly, focusing his attention on a nibble rather than on Bambi's eagerness. He somehow doubts she'll understand exactly the boon he's granting her by discussing this. The only one who ever knew even half of Mirage's motivations for finally choosing the Autobots died at Megatron's hands.
The question could be asked, if there were no Autobots or Decepticons before Megatron, where did the faction names come from? Why were they chosen?
"I had only been fighting a mere handful of years before my displacement to Gillanan. Less than a vorn certainly. The fighting finally became something other than some nebulous happening in another part of the world, and had come knocking on my doorstep, so to speak."
"I'm a mech of breeding, you see, a noble and well aware of my station, but I'm also a hunter, a tracker, skilled in stealth and manipulation and possessed of a very unique bit of technology. An asset, you see, quite useful to either side." There's some bitterness in his voice at that last.
He pauses, to allow for any questions, even though he hasn't really given much information as of yet.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 17, 2010 22:24:13 GMT -5
Bambi might be persuaded to go over more of her notes with Mirage later, if he so wishes, though the majority of them are about things like prehistoric shoes being found with leather soles and fossil evidence of protofeathers.
What Mirage is saying is giving Bambi a lot more questions than answers, and she reaches over, a bit awkwardly, having to stretch, to grab a nibble, before she write down some of her questions, leaving blanks. If she just asks them all at once, Mirage probably won't answer half of them. That's how it goes.
She says slowly, wanting to be sure she has things straight, "So this civil war, then? What spark conflict?"
But Bambi sorely wants to ask him what it means to be a mech of breeding and a noble. Does Mirage have a family, back home? A family tree?
He certainly doesn't seem happy to be an 'asset'. She can't blame him.
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Post by Mirage on Jun 18, 2010 0:15:27 GMT -5
Mirage sighs, "I'm not sure anyone knows exactly what Megatron's motivations were. We heard so many things: he was power hungry; he was a visionary; he was fighting against tyranny; he was a madman bent on suborning us all to his desires. Rumour after rumour, but no fact, and it started so far away from our normal circles."
"But the end result was civil war, yes, with Megatron attracting more of those whose build trended toward the militaristic and more of those with civilian alts siding with the Council. It still took time, however, for the conflict to reach a world-wide level."
Mirage adds softly, a faraway look in his optics, "And for the destruction to reach a world-wide level. Our planet was once a lovely thing, even her wilds and darker aspects held a beauty of sorts, a poignant counter to the shining spires of her bright cities. Children of a warrior-god we may be, but we were once a people of culture, of great advancement, and in areas other than weapons and fighting styles."
He shakes his head, "It still amazes me how quickly we turned from creation to destruction."
The waiter brings their tea, piping hot in dainty china cups, and a plate of pastry-like items of various shapes, colors, and textures. He places the cups before them, then a tray of additives. A few moments to explain those and then he leaves the two to their talk.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 18, 2010 9:55:30 GMT -5
Bambi realises that she really needs to back up a bit, and sighing, she jots down another list of questions - the list is getting very long.
She oohs softly over the tea and pastries and quickly sketches those down, appending notes about what the waiter said about them. On Earth, Bambi was usually chugging gasoline, sometimes kerosene, or even crude oil. On Gillanan, she scavenged batteries. As a stowaway on the Event Horizon, she finally had her first sips of energon. So the nibbles were decadent enough seeming to her... the actual tea and pastries seem a sumptuous feast. Bambi can't help sniffing at her tea and regarding the pastries with narrowed optics, as if she'd quite like to just spring onto the tray, transform, and make sure they're really 'dead' with claw and fang. And eee, the AR-AFFF foam looks so much like the whipped cream that the other researchers liked on their hot chocolate, after a hard climb!
Bambi's already giddy. She may shortly be the robot equivalent of sugar high, as she reaches for a pastry.
But she was asking Mirage questions, right? "...me Bambi think need back up a bit. What Council? What society like before war?"
Maybe it was a tyranny. The way Mirage just described Megatron, Megatron could be George Washington, Adolph Hitler, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, anything in between or more.
Children of a warrior-god? Hmm, maybe she needs to add a section on creation myths... It does make her wonder, even more, if she can even be considered the same 'species' as Mirage, though, let alone the bladey folks, though if she pokes into their creation stories, she'll find them a lot more similar - tales of the Allspark.
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Post by Mirage on Jun 18, 2010 21:28:42 GMT -5
If Mirage knew what types of fuel Bambi was used to subsisting on, he'd be appalled. He'd also vow to introduce her to as many delicacies as possible.
He snags a pastry, takes a bite, and swallows. "Oh," he says, "That is lovely. A bit shy of top-quality effort, but the texture and flavor is rather sublime." Another bite, "Yes, these will do nicely."
Mirage quirks a browridge at Bambi's additional questions. "My, but you are an inquisitive little thing. Some day you simply must tell me what kindled your desire to solve histories mysteries," he teases, tossing back her words from their first meeting.
"The Council was our ruling body, who also oversaw the passing of the Matrix from bearer to bearer. As for giving you a slice of society, I can only provide one from my point of view, which, I must sadly admit, is entirely too limited." He nibbles at his pastry again, and then smiles indulgently. "But, love, if I keep having to backtrack, you'll never get your promised story."
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 18, 2010 21:50:40 GMT -5
Bambi's optics visibly bug out as Mirage calls the pastries shy of top-quality effort. They taste... better than anything she's ever had, by several orders of magnitude, and she's already reaching for another.
She pouts a bit as Mirage points out that she's never going to get her story with all the backtracking. Bambi notes, plaintively, "Me Bambi just want context for story! If government really corrupt, maybe him Megatron have point. If government just, maybe him terrorist. But probably somewhere in between. History usually very grey. That part of why it interesting!" Not a complete answer to his question, but he didn't ask for one. Mirage is fairly good about trying to not be too biased in his accounting, so far, she notes, though he has a definite soft spot for his planet.
Bambi sighs, "But you Mirage right. So get to good part of story?"
So hard not to stuff her face and then just dunk her head in the cup of tea. Gnn. Must. Maintain. Composure.
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Post by Mirage on Jun 19, 2010 15:04:17 GMT -5
Mirage takes a sip of his tea. "You chose well, by the way," he says, indicating the tea, "But my lady wants a story, and who am I to refuse?"
He settles back in his chair, holding his cup delicately in his hands. "As mentioned, those in my peer group were doing our best to ignore what was going on in other parts of the world, though the topic was never far from anyone's lips."
"I can't tell you how many arguments I suffered through! Many disdained the war completely as a fool's game, siding with the growing Neutrality movement, but there were still some who thought it was time for a shake up in our politics, and others who felt that such a change would destroy our way of life."
He smiles, and the expression is a bit sad, "There's a fellow among the Decepticons here. His namesake in my reality was a well-known artist, welcomed in society. I would most like to find out if his reasoning behind his choices was the same as those of the artist I once knew."
"I listened, as is my wont, observed, but seldom allowed myself to be drawn into such conversations. Looking back, I think I believed that if I refused to make the choice, the war could never touch me. It couldn't destroy my way of life if I refused to let it into my life, you see."
Another sad smile. "I was wrong, tricking myself into not seeing the truth just as I do for others. War touches everyone and everything, eventually."
"And eventually it knocked on my very door."
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 19, 2010 21:49:44 GMT -5
Bambi cannot help grinning goofily - a slightly subversive goofy, given her fangs - at Mirage saying she chose well. She rubs the back of her helmet, almost bashfully, and replies, "Uh, thanks?"
Mirage is sounding a bit like a typical spoiled rich boy and a bit out of touch with reality. That doesn't make him bad, however, and he must be brave to even admit as much. He also comes out and says that he's tricky about the truth, so this tale is probably not as unbiased as it may seem, but Mirage doubtless has reasons for saying as much, too, to make her think along certain lines...
...like the fact that he's ever-so-subtly giving her some reason why she shouldn't just bail. War touches everyone and everything, eventually.
Didn't she herself quote that evil wins when good men do nothing? Does she want to be good? Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere.
Leaning forward, wide-opticed, nearly on the idea of her seat, she inquires, "And then what happen?"
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Post by Mirage on Jun 20, 2010 9:49:36 GMT -5
Mirage was referring more to the way his tech tricks the eye, but Bambi is wise to consider it in other context as well. Mirage is not truly trying to convert the girl to the Autobot ideal, no; he believe that every mech should chose their own way, hence the conversation. But he'll not let her go on thinking that running off and avoiding the conflict will save her. She may have had no choice in her branding, but in many ways she's already very much an Autobot. The conflict will find her no matter where she runs.
An oddly fatalistic attitude from one usually so casual, but Mirage has seen first hand what happens to those who run.
Mirage sets down his cup and nibbles on his pastry again, "I was visiting a... friend in Praxus." A lover. "We'd known each other for some time, and he'd always had a weakness for conspiracy theory. He thought Megatron a freedom fighter, would go on and on for hours about how corrupt the Council was, how the general populace was blind to their machinations. Perhaps some of his rantings were rooted in fact, for no government is immune from corruption, but picking the fact from the fiction was nearly impossible by this point."
"Usually, we placed a moratorium on such talk. He knew it upset me, and getting upset was...not the purpose of our visit. This time, however, he kept bringing it up, not in his usual zealots manner but calmly, insistently."
He sighs, "It didn't take me long to figure out that he wasn't just looking for a debate, he was trying to make me understand his decision. He was a pretty, delicate thing, a jet designed for speed and intricate maneuvers more than firepower, but he was skilled enough to have been welcomed into the Decepticon rank and file, even with his lack of combat training and dislike of cruelty. For certainly the tales we heard of what they did with prisoners and civilians were mere government propaganda. They could be nothing else."
His voice takes on an edge of bitterness. "I will backtrack now to add that Praxus was not a city rife with warrior-types. It was a city of philosophy, of art and science, a place of creation, that which will ever be the opposite of war. The war hadn't quite touched it yet, just as it hadn't quite touched Iacon. Both sides were actively working to recruit from Praxus. Iacon was the Council's city."
The pastry finished, he takes up his cup again and leans back. "He was a pretty, dainty, idealistic thing whose aim was abysmal, who was physically weak, who knew nothing of fighting and everything of philosophy, did not yet wear their brand, and yet he told me he'd been perfectly welcomed into their war efforts. What's more, they'd come to him mere days before my arrival. That fact made his face light up with such real pleasure, I could do nothing but smile and pretend to be happy for him. He kept pressing me to join him, and I kept politely declining, not seeing what, looking back, was so very painfully obvious."
"We were both fools."
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 20, 2010 15:28:23 GMT -5
Bambi, while listening raptly to Mirage's every word, manages to get a bit of foam on her nose and goes a bit cross-opticed, scowling at it. First, she tries to lick it off - and then quickly remembers where she is and grabs up her napkin, looking rather abashed. Pay no attention to the Dinobot behind the napkin! Bambi then buries herself behind her notebook, scribbling down more notes.
There are so many ways that Mirage's story could be going, but most of them are looking pretty tragic, since Mirage very obviously didn't end up a Decepticon, despite what his friend had wanted.
Bambi wonders if maybe the Decepticons just went after Mirage's friend to try to influence Mirage, who has already said that both sides saw him as an asset, but she doesn't voice such thoughts. Instead, she says soberly, "You Mirage very self-aware now."
Seems he went through an awful lot of pain to attain that awareness, however.
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Post by Mirage on Jun 20, 2010 23:11:21 GMT -5
"Hmpf. I suppose," he says to Bambi's comment about being self-aware.
Mirage sips his tea, deliberately taking a break from his tale. He needs the moment to collect his thoughts. He hasn't examined his original motivations in ages, has never vocalized them to anyone before. He's not entirely sure why he's doing so now, except that Bambi's impassioned plea earlier about not being given a choice stirred something within him, woke memories.
"The last night of my visit, he made one last attempt to sway me, and it ended in argument. I couldn't see how he could choose either side, how an individual of such intellect and understanding could willfully contribute to what was already proving to be the destruction of our world and our culture. He couldn't see how I could justify refusing to choose at all, to not work for change, and thereby contributing to the root problem. He named me selfish and a coward, among other, less flattering things."
"So we fought and we argued, but that didn't stop us from spending that last night together our...interactions frantic, almost desperate, in his case, as if he expected to never see me again."
The waiter comes back by to check on them. He takes any orders for refills that might be needed, then heads back to the kitchen.
"When we parted company the next morning, it was supposedly to go our separate ways- he to his new life in wartime, and me back to my ivory tower."
"I'd not even spoken to a Decepticon before, heard only rumours...and I did not trust easily," a smirk, "I still don't. I loved him dearly, and so, worried for him, I decided to follow him to his meeting. What I thought I could do against seasoned warriors if things turned badly for him, I'm still not sure."
"But I couldn't just let him walk into possible danger alone."
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