#seismet

[pack-rabbit-circuits]

--Song of the Dead Lily--

Space travel was never a comfortable practice for Estella. Not as far as organizing it, or performing the functions needed to navigate through space, but going through the motions of it rarely exhilarated her. Nevertheless, it had become more and more necessary of late. Mining Gaali crystals to power the house, trading for parts to keep up with her projects...Her latest endeavor requiring more materials than she had ever attempted to amass before. And with her brother not yet well enough to voyage with her, she was left to conduct business on her own.

On her own...It was the last thing she wanted to be now, striding up with more poise than she truly felt to the doors of the bar. This station was not nearly remote enough for her to have no fear of objection to her presence. The variety of patrons was bound to be great, enough that there were bound to be those that would balk at a Cyborg traveling alone without instructions from a commander, or an owner. But, she was at the end of her rope. There was no way she could make it all the way back to Earth without taking a rest. And a meal. And okay, a drink. Or two.

Her stomach gurgled painfully as she stood with some hesitance at the door. ‘The Dead Lily’. No doubt they would serve some exotic, macabre-ly themed drinks here. Likely, no cheeseburgers, which dismayed her. Her reservations overpowered by her hunger, she entered. Heavens, if she wasn’t out of place...Good luck not getting squished, she thought dryly. Contrarily, the atmosphere of the bar itself was soothing; possessing a sort of old-world charm setting it apart from other automaton-modeled eateries she’d vacated the past lunar cycle.

Tip-toeing her way around the enormous Golem-like patrons towards the bar, she turned her head this way and that to scan the room. A spark in her optics and a blip across her mental radar, she gave a familiar shudder as she sensed a spark signature. A Cybertronian? Potentially wonderful, potentially horrible...Continuing her slow, careful creep towards the bar, she kept a watchful optic glowing an eerie electric blue for a flash of metallic armor of colorful paint to identify the owner of the spark...

@seismet

[photobombingcryptid]

@seismet

It was rare Meme ever happened to be in large crowds roaming around at larger markets which resided in even larger cities. But when he did, it was mostly out from necessity, like lack of money or being over-stocked with things he’d hoarded. 

Ship parked in the back, it’s trunk wide open for everyone to see the more valuable cargo that could be bought; then there were several tables and various shelves to show off his things he had for sale. He himself sat nearby on a chair, legs plopped up on a crate, acting like he owned the entire place. Well, technically he did, but such confident posture was the key to get the customers, right?

He’d been here for few hours, mainly being successful with selling random junk and a few collector items, but he’d love to make a profit tonight. Something like few thousands Shanix. 

Now he was having a little break with many of the possible customers simply passing by and not showing any interest in his stock. 

[agitatedwarmachine]

@seismet (x)

“Thank you.” Seismet could, of course, start an argument on how she is not obligated to thank a stranger for their help she did not ask for, but that would require genuine resentment, not just feeling bummed about him beating people up before she could. Else she would have pointed a far more precise difference between their heights to begin with.

“Am I honor-bound to buy you a drink or something now?” She surveys the indifferent alien crowd, but the disheveled gang of miscreants has long disappeared to lick their wounds. Drat! “I’m not up-to-date on this area of etiquette as protecting people is usually my job.”

Neither obligated nor expected to, really. Though it made the paratrooper stand up straighter. Before he offered up a bit of a shrug.

“Not that Ah’ve heard of, no. Yer guess is as good as mine on that scrap.” Granted, he’s never exactly been taught much on culture, expectations, etcetera. “Gotta be nice ta git ta take a break sometimes, right?”

Well, no. He’d probably be pouty if someone stepped in and chased off aggressors before he really got a chance to lay into them himself.

[sky-mxxn]

"I don't want to talk to most people. It's not a gender thing, please just go away."

Skymoon tilt her head at the sudden words. She put away her datapad and face the femme Insecticon. “I’m not gonna ‘go away’ just because of that. There must be something else that makes you to say those words.”

[dizzydiodes]

@seismet continued x

“..Alright.”

She squints her eyes shut for a second and rubs the bridge of her nose blackened with soot from explosives before looking down at Bumblebee somewhere at her feet. This is about as close as Seismet is going to apology for raising her voice.

“If you don’t want to ‘leave me behind’” — and she does make an obvious effort to sound neutral this time, but it comes off as biting and downright nasty still — “you go up there and distract the Decepticons, while I make it out my way.”

It is by sheer luck the cave came with an unaccounted for hole in its ceiling. Bumblebee can fit right through if she lifts him high enough. As for Seismet.. well, she has her own, more destructive ways of dealing with cave-ins, be they naturally occurring or Decepticon-made traps.

She still thinks it would be best for him to leave unnoticed and alert the Autobots of the enemy activity, while she bursts out and goes on her merry way. Maybe after fighting off some Decepticons — she is not here to take sides, but if they insist. It does not sound like there are too many talking and stomping by the blocked off cave entrance, but many more will surely arrive as they continue wasting time on pointless arguments.

“Then I.. we shoo them off. But you cannot stay in here with me. Once I start digging, I won’t be able to ensure you don’t get hit by a rock or buried alive. I’m not even sure I can transform without flattening you.”

It’s not that Bumblebee doesn’t trust the stranger -- for a spy he’s rather easygoing. And even if he doesn’t trust someone, he rarely lets on. While her manners might need a little work, she isn’t entirely hostile.  No, he does believe she wants to get out of here as much as he does. 

It’s the plan that he’s not so confident in. Sure it all sounds nice on paper, as Spike would say. Sneak out of a cave? Perfect. Distract some Decepticons? He was practically manufactured to do that! Let the stranger make it out ‘her way?’ Um. 

He isn’t sure what she’s capable of. Not that she’s incapable -- he knows better than to judge someone before seeing what they can do. I mean, that’s his whole schtick! But without knowing exactly what her plan is, the spy isn’t too keen on parting ways.

It’s possible that she can take on these Decepticons on her own. It’s also possible that she has no idea what she’s up against. Bumblebee would rather not take the risk of letting someone get hurt. 

“Hey hey, let’s think this through.” They don’t have time for this, not really, but he minibot keeps rambling anyway, “We don’t know how many Decepticreeps are up there, yeah? I think we’re better off stickin’ together for the time being. I’ll bet if we put our heads together-- figuratively, your’s is a bit bigger than mine and that’s gonna hurt -- we’ll find some other way out and not get our tailpipes handed to us!”

[anachronism-hunter]

@seismet

continued from [ x ]

“You and I both,” Seismet admits, wondering if she looks that much out of place to have earned this confession from an unfamiliar bot. To be fair, she does. Other guests are spread around the house in couples or groups, and appear to tangentially belong to the same social circle as they exchange hearty greetings and share reminiscences. She figures it is the overall lack of sobriety that has made them overlook a stranger loitering among them so far.

“I got invited over by someone I’ve met at the music festival. Then I’ve lost track of them.” She has never asked their name, either, as there was enough high-grade and music bonding involved to overlook such unimportant detail. “What’s your story?”

“Uh... It’s complicated,” stated Hunter.  He wasn’t sure how he could even begin to describe how he ended up here, and if he told the truth it was likely she would think he was crazy, or worse. Time travel wasn’t a thing yet at this time as far as he was aware.

“I’m actually looking for someone, he’s been missing a while, I doubt he’s here,” Hunter explained in the simplest form of his current, why he’s here answer.  He went silent before grinning, hoping that the small silence wasn’t too awkward, “the names Hunter.  You are?”

[gxmmaray-blog]

seismet liked your post “Starter Call (There’s a few new people here, so go ahead and like this...”

What was with strangers and ignoring the very clear caution-tape signs up for a mile around her construction site? Maybe the war damaged everyone’s ability to remember what a normal, functioning society with clearly off-limits areas looked like.

“Excuse me. Can I help you?” If she had to guess, the new arrival wasn’t from Iacon--if only because she tended to remember bots who stood even a few feet taller than she did.

[aggregate-salvage-n-co]

"It takes a great deal of courage to see the world in all its untainted glory, and still to love it."

The police-body’s servos wheeled freely as Aggregate considered the statement.

“I-we have memories of a time before this one became we-I that show the world is sharp. Another of I-we remembers programming of the world being hopeful. We-I are unsure which is true,” she replied slowly.