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@nauticalnautica
♒ insecticon-hardshell is sailing ♒
"Autobot?" He was not exactly a fan of the faction but had made good friends from there.
"Greetings Nautica. I am Hardshell. Is this your home? I did not mean to intrude."
"Y-Yes? Um yeah. I live and work here..ish. Just doing what I can! Fixing things...not good for much else. Guns scare me."
She blinked softly behind her visor, hoping he wasn't angry...
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//Sorry for short pop in!
Is it just me or am I hallucinating? Haha! Wait, is just me! Who would have guessed? You even have the same wrench and telltale coat of grime!
U-Uh…hi? Why do you look like me? And that’s my wrench…or yours?
"Oh," Nautica remarked, shifting a little where she was standing. "Primus works in ways we don’t always understand." Okay. It wasn’t that much of a comfort, but saying something was better than nothing, and, oddly enough, she couldn’t speak from experience. She had the innate sensation that whatever her forgotten past was it was much different from her alternate’s.
"Heh, Chromia picking up pieces instead of making someone into them. That’s a new one. I like it. She’d look good with a wrench in her servo."
"Y-Yeah. Though I'd worry that when she got mad she'd try and throw it at people like I've heard Ratchet has done! I have enough welds on my frame as it is.."
She kinda really wanted to hug her alternate right now, but instead fiddled with her wrench instead. The other was much like the elder sibling she always wanted, but she was too shy to say anything.
♒ insecticon-hardshell is sailing ♒
He glanced at her, noticing the noise and movement. “Heh, do I frighten you? So soon? I promise I do not bite.”
"O-Okay! Sorry. Just never seen a mech l-like you before! I'm Nautica. Autobot Mechanic. And stuff."
She was rambling and she knew it. The small violet femme hopped out from behind it, clutching her wrench to her chest plating.
Is it just me or am I hallucinating? Haha! Wait, is just me! Who would have guessed? You even have the same wrench and telltale coat of grime!
U-Uh…hi? Why do you look like me? And that’s my wrench…or yours?
Nautica’s own optic ridges shot up in surprise at what her alternate was saying. Raised by Chromia? She struggled to search through her own clouded memory banks, but from what little she could access there was nothing of the sort. Hmmm. "How old are you? Now you got me curious. Alternates are weird. I think our pasts might be pretty different, but don’t quote me on that. I’m still having problems accessing my memory banks."
"U-Uh, not really sure. All I know is that Moonracer was my carrier. And my other creator was an ex-Decepticon named Thunderblast. Both went MIA in the war, so Chromia was kinda here to pick up the pieces..."
She shrugged halfheartedly, a bit lackluster in terms of happiness of emotion. Nautica tried to maintain an outward air of cheerfulness like her carrier, but it was difficult at times to live up the green femme's memory. Shifting a little she thumbed her wrench...
♒ sirdaiatlas is sailing ♒
The Knight was about to respond, but a sudden clatter to his left immediately silenced him and snapped his attention around. Which, in turn, created another clatter—apparently his great size was disturbing all the… items around him. Dentae gritted, he folded his wing struts in and tried to make himself as small as possible—which still wasn’t very small at all.
"…Apologies…. Greetings."
She winced a little at hearing some stuff fall over, coming out from behind the engine fully. Hopping out she tilted her helm, her small purple frame almost out of place within the workshop. Well, if she had not been covered in grease and various other oily stains. All in a mechanic's job! Wow he was big. She became a little timid, antennae twitching on her helm. Cobalt optics peered up at him as she tentatively spoke.
"H-Hello.."
♒ insecticon-hardshell is sailing ♒
He glanced around. “What…is this place?”, he thought out loud. It was a complete mess. Was there some sort of battle that occurred here? He went in more. “Is anybot here?”, he called out.
There was quite a good amount of mess around the mech, at least it would seem that way to him. To Nautica, is was, well, disorganized organization. And really only made sense to her! Heh. At the sound of someone entering she popped her helm out from behind an engine, and immediately regretted it. Letting out a soft 'eep!' she hid back behind it.
♒ ask-atomizer is sailing ♒
*Atomizer smiled, ignoring the grease on his servo having been used to having paint and liquids on them*
Yes, she’s still young but very hyperactive.
She let out a soft squeal, face plating and visor brightening in response. Nautica never had any siblings, but she had always wanted one. Hopefully since war was dying down there would be a chance to see some!
"Hehe. Congrats~ It's awesome that new life is blooming."
Online-ish
♒ insecticon-hardshell is sailing ♒
So yeah. Makeshift workshop set up in the caves what was she could do best. Machine parts were thrown here and there, basically the Atlantis of messes. She still had yet to find her favorite cleaning cloth. Nautica was busy in some engine parts, not hearing anyone trespassing into her workshop.
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Is it just me or am I hallucinating? Haha! Wait, is just me! Who would have guessed? You even have the same wrench and telltale coat of grime!
U-Uh…hi? Why do you look like me? And that’s my wrench…or yours?
Nautica’s own audial horns swiveled up a little, her curiosity making her forget her manners. Obviously this Nautica was sensitive about the topic, but… “Where did she get off to? How did anyone manage to move Chromia? She’s like a wall with support beams embedded twenty feet into the ground and soldered to the foundation.”
"Heh. She's Chromia. Goes where she wants to I guess. It's time I was a big femme and went out on my own! But yeah...she's been a carrier figure to me for quite a while."
It had been rough raising a youngling during wartime, but it paid off in the end. She remembered when she nearly blew up half the team when first discovering her love for mechanics.
♒ ask-atomizer is sailing ♒
*Atomizer smiled, ignoring the grease on his servo having been used to having paint and liquids on them*
Yes, she’s still young but very hyperactive.
She smiled as well, antennae twitching softly with her emotions. They acted on their own sometimes, giving a better view of her emotions than most.
"Sparklings are so cute~! Never seen one, but I heard."
Is it just me or am I hallucinating? Haha! Wait, is just me! Who would have guessed? You even have the same wrench and telltale coat of grime!
U-Uh…hi? Why do you look like me? And that’s my wrench…or yours?
"Naw, I don’t think I’m dangerous. Chromia’s the dangerous one. She can be a rutabaga," Nautica idly chattered away. Wow, it’s a good thing no one is overhearing this conversation at the moment.
Oh yes. And now they’re comparing battle scars! Best day ever. Nautica held out her own digit, the melted metal warped and ugly. Still, the digit itself seemed to be working fine. “I got myself pretty bad. I accidentally soldered the digit so it couldn’t move. I fixed it myself, though. I still don’t have any sensation in that digit, but I can move it so meh. It wouldn’t have happened if my guest hadn’t dropped my wrench though. I had to catch it.”
"Totally. She'd probably beat any potatoes into submission! I miss her. Haven't seen her in a while..."
Her antennae drooped a little. Chromia was like a carrier to the young femme, and frankly she had raised her nearly. Nautica's creators had been Moonracer and Thunderblast, both of whom were currently MIA. She never really got to meet them, but she remembered the green femme's laugh.
"I-I never let anyone other than me touch my wrench. Just almost impossible to part with it I guess. Kinda like some bots are about their visors. I guess I have mine for that reason too! I-I have trouble with distance."
♒ ask-atomizer is sailing ♒
I’m Atomizer, former assassin. After the war I spend most of my time painting or raising my sparkling. *Atomizer smiled and held his servo out in greeting*
Her servos were still rather greasy, and she hoped he didn't mind. The mechanic's grip was firm, despite her outward shy demeanor. She perked up at the mention of a sparkling.
"Y-You have a sparkling? Aw~!"
Is it just me or am I hallucinating? Haha! Wait, is just me! Who would have guessed? You even have the same wrench and telltale coat of grime!
U-Uh…hi? Why do you look like me? And that’s my wrench…or yours?
Nautica laughed when her alternate explained. Okay, that was golden. She had had a perfect thought and needed to share it. Reaching down, she rubbed a spot of grease off her frame and held the digit out towards other-her.
"Well, if you consider this my second skin, yeah. I suppose I am capable of shedding it, but that doesn’t mean I want to. And as far as withstanding heat, I accidentally soldered my digit today and didn’t even scream. I guess that applies, too. Call me a potato, then."
She tilted her helm, letting out a soft giggle. Holding out her servo there was a burn mark. She ended up burning herself too! Well she squeaked when she had burned herself, but that was about it. Hehe~! This alternate was like a chatty big sis!
"I-I did the same thing too! Funny how much we are alike. I-I guess we're both potatoes! Apparently they have a cousin called the rutabaga. I hope they're not dangerous..."
Is it just me or am I hallucinating? Haha! Wait, is just me! Who would have guessed? You even have the same wrench and telltale coat of grime!
U-Uh…hi? Why do you look like me? And that’s my wrench…or yours?
"I…" she paused, moving the wrench in her grasp in a circle as she thought. Hmm. She raked through her processors, trying to find a definition for the word potato. Well, if she’d ever run across it she still couldn’t access the memory. Her face twisted with effort until her helm began to pound slightly from the strain of digging through fuzzy memories.
"I’ll answer that when you tell me what a potato is."
"Hm....I think it's some form of indigenous life on the planet Earth. I overheard some bots talking about them. Apparently they can shed their skin and withstand high temperatures!"
She could only imagine how ferocious they were. Maybe they were just a little bit civilized to make a peace treaty? The war was bad enough, and they really needed all the help they could get...
