Otherwise inconsolable optics lit up with alarming recognition, widening in disbelief as he stared down at the mech before him. Processor whirring in attempt to make sense of what he saw, his mind could stir no logical reasoning, only that this was some warped rendition of his mind fabricating before his very own optics. This could only be but a hallucination of false hopes projecting greater falsery upon himself, a ghost from his past resurfacing in a way that was all to real for him to muster regardless.
It took the touch of his field to break his latent cognizance that this was in fact reality, that if he were to, he could indeed reach outwards and touch what he thought a materialized memory. But how, why? These and many of what other questions he had, that by what rationale he had left could not answer, prickled his mind in an agiated need to be explained. His own EM field radiated with that confusion, but was not without a very subtle touch of the logning he had felt for his lost friend. The feeling transmitted from Orion was so very different. Pure, lost, misplaced in this world. Overall his aura changed from what he remebered, the way it now teemed with an innocence unlike any the warlord had been graced with, but so much like him all the same.
Optimus Prime was dead.. but Orion was here.
No words came to his processor, yet at the same time rushed him in a torrent of an inconsolidant blurr. To his adudials as the other spoke such soft words, sounding untouched by the stagnance of their corrupt world, were heard as a melodic purity comparable to none. Ringing with an essence untainted, Megatron feared to reach out towards him and pollute it with his countless sin. He did not understand.. What made him worthy of being in such presence, of this gift which appeared risen from the tomb? If had he not so many questions, of self doubt and otherwise, he may have fully embraced the situation. Instead, contorted by his ambivilance, he very uneasily reached out in a reciprocant manner.
"Orion.. I am, Megatron." Rough chords on an age old vocolizer rumbled out in vague awkwardness, unsettled by unknowing how he should react. This was Orion.. but this was not Orion. New.. Reborn.. Risen from beyond the grave. By what powers that be, Megatron can not hope to understand, only knowing that he was not remebered, obvious as the way the other beamed up at him with optics of benign innocence.
"What is it that you are doing here..?" The question rolled off his glossa, optics unable to avert his gaze from the other's. He feels as if frozen in time, this idle moment holding him in place as he takes it all in, nigh unconvinced yet still that it wasn't but a dream.