Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Nov 24, 2013 14:16:01 GMT -5
OOC: Month 12 Week 2 Day 2. Open, but with conditions, seeing as this will involve a malfunctioning lift.
There's something reassuring about the lifts. Flame lacks the coherence at most points to explain that it's the enclosure – the ceiling, heavy doors – that soothes him. The security of being in such a sheltered space greatly quiets the constant undercurrent of fear, of worrying about what comes from above. Traversing decks on his way to and from duty rotations is a small respite in his otherwise chaotic, hazy days. Not much has changed since he set fire to the cage of that strange, human life and scattered the ashes; he still has no real time to himself, in part because getting everyone and everything back up to speed takes so much effort and in part because he has yet to assuage doubts of his sincerity.
It isn't until he registers the rattle of his hoses on his shoulders that he even realises the thought of facing Spinister makes him tremble. The lift abruptly no longer feels as safe as before; he glances to the ceiling, to the floor. Spinister must be watching somehow. Isn't he always watching?
The lift stops and the doors chime to admit another passenger. Flame startles and nearly backs into the corner, only bringing himself up short because he thinks somehow that would garner steeper disapproval than if he simply holds still and stays quiet.
He's so wrapped up in trying to decide the best course of action that he nearly forgets to acknowledge the other Decepticon altogether as the doors open. All he manages is an anxious nod as he steps aside to make more room.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Nov 24, 2013 14:58:45 GMT -5
The sound of machinery and muffled mellow music announces the elevator’s approach long before it arrives. Phobia carefully steps in as the doors part, giving Flame an amiable smile at his nod.
“Good cycle,” he offers softly and goes to the opposite side of the elevator as was the proper elevator etiquette for meek little bike mechs. Phobia wasn’t terribly afraid to cower in corners, but such was the life of the frailer models; standing in the way of tanks was hardly ever a good idea. The queasy edge of Flame’s anxiety and fear was not the most pleasant of companies either, but at least he didn’t seem to be the sort who would actively antagonize people and the bike was grateful enough for that.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Dec 3, 2013 12:17:03 GMT -5
Not Spinister. Not Needlenose. Those are the first thoughts that come to Flame's mind. He doesn't really recognise the face or put a name to it until a few seconds later.
"Y-yes," is his awkward answer; he's not quite certain what to make of the oddly polite greeting. Flame isn't accustomed to such treatment from the Decepticons – not even the slip of a mechanism that is Phobia. And what a terrifying name, he thinks as he shifts as discreetly as possible to make sure Phobia receives the bulk of the available space. Anxious, he glances at the display above the door. Only a few more decks to go until his stop. He tries not to sigh in relief.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 9, 2013 7:35:01 GMT -5
Well, having people actually anxious of him was a bit of a change. It doesn’t weird him out quite as much as it would have before the human thing (that… had changed his tolerance for a lot of things, admittedly), but he finds himself suppressing the urge to arch a brow at Flame.
His immediate instinct was to try and make small chat with the other mech to help alleviate his anxiety. Sometimes, it was annoying to have a base programming that made helping people the priority in his instinctual social responses. Anyways, going by the growing anticipation next to him, any attempt at small talk was pointless since the mech was getting off soon. They could both stand to endure the mellow, music filled awkwardness for a bit longer.
Unfortunately, that was about the moment when the lights flickered, accompanied by a distinctly broken sounding KER-C-CLUNK somewhere above them.
“Oh dear,” Phobia says.
And then the elevator starts it’s semi-freefall through the next three floors.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Dec 21, 2013 12:34:11 GMT -5
Flame would be grateful for the lack of small talk if only he knew. He's not very good at it.
He is good at clutching the handrails of the lift when it drops and it feels like his power plant has leapt up to join his brain module. He manages, by some miracle of will or terror, to not scream. It isn't that he hasn't suffered worse than a potentially crashing lift – and those horrifying images and the feelings that accompany them flicker through his mind as the lights waver and semi-gravity reasserts itself once the lift grinds to a slow, deafening stop – but it's really] startling!
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 22, 2013 15:05:02 GMT -5
Phobia on the other hand does scream, too startled to suppress it for a moment. His lighter weight has him floating a meter or so off the floor in a few seconds, even as he holds onto the railing for dear life. Of all the things to ruin an okay day!
And then the gravity begins to return and Phobia’s day takes a turn for the even worse as he stumbles when his feet hit the ground and bumps his shoulder against Flame’s arm.
“Oh no-” He freezes up as all of Flame’s unwanted fears promptly rush into him through the point of contact.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Dec 22, 2013 16:59:06 GMT -5
Flame is much too busy hanging onto the rail himself or he'd probably try pulling Phobia back down for safety's sake. Thankfully, it's a short drop and doesn't end with them both in pieces at the bottom of the shaft. It's a lesser fear, a gloss compared to the deep-seated, spark-wrenching terror it brings to mind. If Phobia didn't understand what it was to be crippled at the sound of rain falling, the stench of burnt circuitry and melting metal, to dread the open sky and hate the sounds of agony and death with such profundity it borders on a pain all its own, he certainly does now, emotion spilling from Flame's subconscious like liquefied metal. Flame doesn't even think to steady Phobia when the smaller mechanism stumbles into him; he's too busy checking the ceiling to be certain it's not developing new holes to expose them to the rain.
It doesn't occur to him until a few seconds later that there's no reason for it to rain in here.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 22, 2013 22:53:32 GMT -5
The worst thing about touching someone in the middle of an episode was that he was immediately drowned in the onrush of emotions. Phobia has relived the nightmares of thousands of mechs at this point. Sometimes touching people had no side effects at all. Sometimes they came later, in the middle of a cup of energon or just before a defragging cycle. But he’d only ever touched people in the middle of a flashback half a dozen times in the millenias he’d been alive. Fewer than that had been intentional contacts.
His vents seize as his mental processes sync with Flame’s. He looks up the same moment Flame does, terror stricken even as he lacks the memories that told him why he’d be afraid of the rain or holes in the ceiling--
Dragging in a sudden gasp, Phobia pushes himself the hell away from the tank. He ends up with his back against the closed doors, sliding down into a panicking heap on the floor.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Dec 23, 2013 20:44:11 GMT -5
Flame has to be absolutely certain of the integrity of the lift before he looks away, so it's a few long seconds before he notices Phobia in the corner having a fit. Flame himself isn't much better, but he remembers – faintly, in snatches of colour and sound, flashes of metal, terrified faces turning to him – he remembers scenes like this from what feels like ages ago, a lifetime past.
"No," he says, trying to soothe though his voice shakes as he edges towards Phobia on unsteady legs, "no, see, we're all right. The shelter's intact. We're fine. See?" He doesn't quite touch Phobia, but he does make a guiding gesture with one hand close to the smaller bot's shoulder and the other upturned to the ceiling. He couldn't do anything for the ones back then but he'll try again here, now. "We're – we're not falling," he goes on as the present starts seeping back into its proper place. "Please… please be all right?"
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 23, 2013 23:04:20 GMT -5
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Phobia screams, half in defense and half in warning, shrinking away from Flame’s hands. “Don’t- please don’t touch me.” He clings to the wall, visor over bright and armor rattling in terror. “I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”
He needs to compartmentalize this. He needs to put it into a box. These feelings were not his and he needs to put them in a box. He needs to… he needs… Sometimes he felt like he was running out of spaces to put things into in his head. Too many fears and hates and loves that weren’t his, and so many of those without any causes that he knows of. So many pieces of strangers in his head.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Dec 29, 2013 17:27:14 GMT -5
Flame recoils as if physically struck, so frantic is he to obey a Decepticon directive.
"I-I'm sorry," he says very quietly. Uneasily, he looks around. Power still intact, no damage to the structure that he can see. Just a loss of motor capability, then? Perhaps they can still get out safely. Is it safe to leave? Now there's a question. And was it poor maintenance due to understaffing or something more… insidious that caused the malfunction?
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 30, 2013 16:14:16 GMT -5
Flame actually respecting his request comes as a bit of a surprise for Phobia. Normally there’s be sneering and possibly some kicking at this point. He warily watches Flame inspecting the elevator, trying to repress the shakes.
Phobia wouldn’t bet it on being some kind of horrid prank at least. If Starscream had been the victim of this, the prankster would be a dead mech, or at least be given to the science division.
“... Are you alright?” he manages finally, surprising himself with the disconnected calmness of his voice.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Jan 4, 2014 20:11:36 GMT -5
It's a tight, strained smile on Flame's face, a rictus, a mask more than anything. He's trying hard to think about the now, gripping the threads of lucidity so tightly it makes his head ache, trying to stay focused while he still has the cognisance to think. He tries to forget the last time his face wore this expression – bolted into place so he wouldn't scream, a smile to reassure Flattop that he knew exactly what he was doing, that everything would be all right, that they'd make it–
"I'm fine," he lies as the faint echoes of screams reach him from outside the walls, outside time. His smile ratchets tighter; he grinds his jaw. That's not right, he insists to himself as the ringing in his head dims, the pain of clarity fading as it slips away from him. The fog in his mind muffles the awful sounds but for a moment, just one brief moment, he feels himself slipping and wonders if that's what it feels like to die. "I'm – we're… we're all right," Flame murmurs shakily. "I think."
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 4, 2014 21:26:52 GMT -5
Sighing softly, Phobia carefully drags himself up onto his feet, using the wall for support. He was programmed to deal with the symptoms of someone’s else’s mental problems at least. The second hand effects of a stranger’s mental breakdown were not pleasant, but once contact was broken, the episodes stopped pretty quickly. Had stopped pretty quickly. It’s recently becoming a bit more of a problem these days though, since he’s not quite sure when he’d stopped being able to differentiate between his own emotions and someone else’s.
He takes another moment to piece together some form of composure, carefully watching Flame, the strained smile and the way he just bled disconnectedness. Unfortunately, his current companion didn’t seem to be coming out of the haze any time soon. Phobia cycles on the general frequency on his comm… before deciding against calling for help for the time being. He’s not entirely sure why.
“Elevators don’t have that far to fall in spaceships, thankfully.” Neutral topics. Careful reminder of what situation they are actually in to try and help the person regain their footing. It felt like moving a an old rusty limb for Phobia. “At least the music stopped?”
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Feb 10, 2014 23:00:39 GMT -5
Music? Flame blinks owlishly at Phobia. He'd forgotten entirely about the music. His tight, tense smile relaxes somewhat, takes on less of a terrified edge. Awkwardly, he nods his agreement though he really has no feelings either way regarding the music. It hardly drew any of his attention to begin with.
"Yes, of course," he mumbles, more focused on giving Phobia as much space as he can afford in here. Phobia doesn't want to be touched and by Adaptus, Flame won't touch him.
|
|