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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Dec 11, 2010 14:35:07 GMT -5
OOC: Takes place on day 24. Semi-private.
Skystrike stares at the door, wings tense, dark lips set in a darker scowl and a bundle of disembodied arm clutched to her chest. The rest of the carcass was off being recycled but she’d saved this particular piece for a different purpose- one she isn’t entirely sure it would fulfil but, well, worth a try.
She isn’t even sure if Wreckage was here. The duty roster told her the pale mech was off for the time being and she had yet to have spotted him around anywhere else but he could still very well be somewhere in the bowels of the vast ship.
Of course, lingering in front of the door wasn’t going to help her find out any faster, but even as the seeker lifted a hand up to click on the door chime she found herself in the grips of something that felt suspiciously like nervousness. It’s been a while since she’s actually felt nervous. fear was one thing, nervousness was just ridiculous.
Just standing here was ridiculous to begin with though, and especially with the knowledge that Wreckage might not even be in the room. The hallway was empty for the time being but Skystrike was beginning to feel more and more embarrassed and more and more frustrated until she finally just forced herself to press the chime.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Dec 11, 2010 15:12:09 GMT -5
In the middle chapters of an Earth text he once saw Scourge reading – it takes a human approach to warfare, but some of the points made and the perspective from which it is written intrigue him – when the door chimes, Wreckage at first ignores it. He assumes it must be someone seeking one of his more social bunkmates and that they will, naturally, take leave once they realise neither Swindle nor Cannonball is answering the door. Decision made, he re-settles himself on his berth and goes back to reading.
Then the hail comes again after a long silence. He looks up from the terminal, mild confusion playing across his face. Oddly persistent; surely they would think to radio once no answer came at the door. Should he simply let them in? He ponders this, head cocked at a slight angle to the left. No. The room is as much his territory as Swindle's or Cannonball's and he feels no pressing need to allow simply anyone free entry.
Making a low sound of bemusement and vague discontent, he minimises the terminal window and rolls to his feet, berth creaking softly with the movement. He has to duck under the berth just above his to avoid dashing his head into it.
"Who is it?" he answers the hail as he crosses the room, feet heavy and spurs clicking against the deck, and presses his palm to the control plate. Skystrike is one of the last Decepticons he expects to see when the door slides open.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Dec 11, 2010 17:15:11 GMT -5
Oh, look, there wasn’t anyone inside. She should probably just go-
Skystrike freezes mid-turn at the sound of Wreckage’s voice, muffled through the door. For a brief moment, she truly contemplates just transforming and gunning it out of there, reputation be damned, and hiding from him for the rest of the slagging week.
So illogical and stupid was urge that it leaves Skystrike momentarily stunned at how strongly it tempts her in spite of it. By the time she recovers, the sound of Wreckage’s footsteps have come to a halt and she doesn’t have much to scrape up what was left of her composure before the door slides open.
It was a small comfort that Wreckage looked about as prepared for the encounter as she was.
For a moment, the blue flier can’t help but stare at him, struggling to remember the lines she’d been repeating over and over in her head less than a few minutes ago, before just... quietly shoving her present into the air between them like a shield and placing her eyes firmly on the wall a few meters away, posture stiff.
The disembodied arm sits silently and neatly folded in her hand, skeletal and silver, the metal claws gleaming in the light as they dangled in the air. She’d cleaned obviously it (it was an apology present; bloody messes weren’t good apology presents), but there were still tell tale scorch marks and scratches here and there from the fight its previous owner had put up.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Dec 14, 2010 20:38:52 GMT -5
Even more unexpected than seeing Skystrike is Skystrike presenting him… a gift? He looks from her face and the strange expression there to the skeletal limb cradled in her hands. Why would she bring him a gift? After their last encounter, he would sooner expect her to avoid him altogether, or punch him. Instead, she presents him with a random body part. He tilts his head and peers at the gift; metal, slender struts gleaming under the lighting, with… talons? His optic shutters whir as he focuses on the fingertips. Curious.
The question remains, and he looks at her again as he wonders why.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Dec 15, 2010 17:46:05 GMT -5
Already tense, her wings snap back into a flat line behind her vents at Wreckage’s questioning look. Skystrike glares balefully at the wall trying to deduce some form of proper answer from it. Or simply reduce it to molten slag through sheer concentration, either way.
Decepticons weren’t taught to apologize. Sure, the concept was there, but for most part, Decepticon apologies were almost never actual apologies. The desire to apologize was even more alien and baffling, niggling at the back of her mind like a particularly persistent patch of rust.
Now, though? It'd exploded into a full-on infection. The seekers makes a low noise of defeat before letting her optics drift back to Wreckage, expression softening and shoulders slumping.
“For the kisses,” she answers carefully. “Sorry.” And the wing groping too, but, well, that was implied.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Dec 18, 2010 23:31:36 GMT -5
An apology is somehow even more puzzling than the gift itself. Has it really bothered her this much for this long? Wreckage watches her reactions – the tension in her wings, the sullen look on her face that slowly changes to something he cannot identify – then, wordlessly, taks the gift she has obviously made a great deal of effort to obtain and present to him.
"…Ah," is all he can think to say.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Dec 21, 2010 16:45:08 GMT -5
After Wreckage takes the gift, Skystrike hesitates, not entirely sure what else to add. There were normally words at this point as well but it her luck with words has already been particularly poor. The seeker just stands there awkwardly for a moment, shifting and clasping her hands quietly behind her back to stop herself from fidgeting.
“Perhaps... I shall go then,” she rumbles after another moment, glancing down the hallway and taking a step back preparation.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Dec 27, 2010 14:25:52 GMT -5
Much as Skystrike finds apologies difficult, Wreckage abruptly finds that thanking her does not readily come to him. It seems somehow… inappropriate, though he could not explain why if asked. Gratitude certainly seems in order; she has given him a gift and apologised for unsettling him, none of which looks to have been as easy as fondling him had been. Yet thanking her for an unprompted gesture of courtesy feels smug and he cannot understand why he hesitates with her. Perhaps she used the kiss to install some virus.
That will be his explanation, should anyone ask, for the way he reaches after her as she steps away. A virus is the reason he makes a grab at her arm to stay her; a virus compels him to lean down and, if she makes no move to escape, awkwardly turn his head so his tusks are less of an obstacle in his effort to return her kiss.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Dec 29, 2010 19:44:55 GMT -5
At the feel of Wreckage’s fingers on her arm, Skystrike halts abruptly and gives him a rather confused look. Was there something she forgot? Very likely, come to think of it. It wasn’t exactly like apology was something that occured on a daily basis and the lack of helpful manuals regarding the subject left an annoyingly wide gap concerning the proper conduct during such an exchange. Was it the lack of ribbons? Was she supposed to put ribbons on the present? She recalled ribbons being mentioned, but nothing in regards to how it should be used on severed limbs...
Befuddled by the all importance of present wrapping, the stryker leaning in to kiss her catches the seeker rather off-guard.
Skystrike makes a surprised sound, muffled against the pale mouth, even as she reaches up with a hand to steady the rather clumsy kiss. Thoughts regarding the proper procedures in an apology were abruptly derailed and shoved onto tracks of bewildered joy. Wasn’t this how the whole debacle had started off?
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Swindle
Major
This space for rent.
Posts: 571
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Post by Swindle on Jan 1, 2011 21:06:39 GMT -5
Swindle is sauntering down the hall back to his room, whistling a jaunty tune, when he rounds a corner and sees Wreckage and Skystrike snogging. His eyes go wider than usual and his lips purse in bemusement, then he pivots on his heel and goes back the way he came.
A moment later, he reappears. "Just a word of advice, get a room, don't do that in the hall. Her room, for preference, not ours. Oh, and hang a datapad on the door. You kids have fun now!" he says, disappearing again.
Some blackmail materials are more delicious than others.
OOC: Swindle in and right back out of thread unless he's pursued.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jan 3, 2011 16:00:01 GMT -5
That first kiss was shared with an oblivious and not entirely willing party. This time is different; Wreckage knows Skystrike is interested and, more strangely, he finds he isn't displeased with the sensation. He rather likes the fit of her hand on his cheek, in fact, and has just begun shifting his weight to brace himself with one hand on the wall over Skystrike's head when Swindle interrupts them. Wreckage peers sidelong after the merchant, optic shutters narrow and filaments pinned and bright, but he makes no move to pursue his roommate; Swindle is not the one kissing him.
He does, however, mimic a scornful snort by abruptly blowing air from the vents on his shoulders.
"As if he can stop me from using my own bunk," he rumbles with no attempt to hide his blatant disdain.
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Jan 4, 2011 19:05:32 GMT -5
Purring deep within her chest, Skystrike smooths her free hand over Wreckage’s chest, optics dim with pleasure and... there, of course, was Swindle.
Swindle telling them not to kiss in the hallway even. Oh my, what delicate sensibilities have they managed to offend? It’s not as if this was his first time seeing people kissing, was it? The blue jet can’t help but chuckle quietly when the merchant retreats after his little PSA. She should probably worry a bit more considering who that had been, but she’s really a bit more occupied with nuzzling Wreckage’s face.
“We’re using your bunk?” Skystrike murmurs in curious amusement, lightly outlining the camo patterns on his chest with her fingers. They could worry about taking the yellow car apart sometime later, perhaps.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jan 10, 2011 11:44:56 GMT -5
Wreckage pauses at the question and deliberately forces himself to think on it rather than respond to those light fingertips dancing across his breastplate. It is a task only slightly less difficult than it will be to resist outright murdering one of the Autobots from the highway should he see them again. Between Swindle possibly looking for a way to make money from the situation – is that not what he always does? – and the potential for Cannonball to make crude comments that will give Wreckage decidedly unfriendly ideas, claiming his own stake looks less and less like an intelligent thing to do.
"…No," he says abruptly, withdrawing toward the door, mood evaporated. He holds up the arm and gives Skystrike a stiff nod of gratitude, adding in an awkward, stilted fashion, "Apology accepted."
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Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Jan 13, 2011 3:57:45 GMT -5
Skystrike cycles her optics in a surprised blink when Wreckage steps back, drawing her hands back uncertainly.
“Oh, uh. Yes,” she answers, glancing down at the arm an then back up to Wreckage’s face. Was that the right answer? The sudden change in mood took her as off-guard as the kiss had and the seeker finds herself floundering in its aftermath. She didn’t remember courting being quite this confusing.
“I... Would you like to go for a drink?” She isn’t sure if that was the right thing to say either. After a moment Skystrike hastily adds, “If you’re free. I mean.”
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jan 19, 2011 12:09:34 GMT -5
Wreckage pauses long enough to indicate he has heard the question before he continues into his quarters to put up the gift. A long, ponderous moment passes as he considers her offer; a drink is just a drink, after all. Or… is it? Now, he realises, everything with Skystrike – every odd glance, every shared word, every interaction – has another layer to it, one beyond wondering how close she is to snapping the way he expects Decepticons to snap and what his proximity to her might be at that critical juncture. Now… now he has to wonder if whatever she does is because of this attraction.
He tucks the limb into a corner above his bunk, wedging it into the gap between frame and bulkhead so it will remain out of the way but visible to him when he lies down, and he quashes the uneasy sensation set off by his power plant's suddenly dissonant idle, frowning at the bulkhead where Skystrike cannot see. He has no reason to accept her offer; the drinks are simply rations… unless she plans to drag him down to that wretched planet. But, and he turns to watch her, considering, would she make the offer unless she already had in mind somewhere she thought – she hoped? – he might like? Or at the very least, that he might tolerate it while in her company.
Stranger still, he finds himself curious of the matter. Wordlessly, he saves his progress in the text, then shuts off his terminal and rejoins Skystrike at the door, giving her an expectant look.
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