#thelastpathfinder

[autobotmedic]

@thelastpathfinder continued:

"You have a kind look about you. Then again, I wasn't here for the War, so I can't speak to the psychological damage of a veteran..."

He is... vaguely surprised. Typically, his often default state of frowning does not inspire that observation.

"Hm. An uncommon opinion to hear from someone I do not know well."

[rifleseye]

@thelastpathfinder asked.

You stand in the doorway, still caked in dust and energon, half of your face-plate torn open. "Can I use your washrack?"

— Shock horror crosses your face first and foremost when your eyes land on Wayfarer. It looks a mess, and its— the right side of his face is torn. Shredded. You feel dizzy, a memory of a mirror like an electric shock to the body. Old wounds ache with empathy. Empathy.

You bring a hand to his torn open face-plate, grimacing as you feel the ragged edges, all too similar. " What happened? " Your usually patient and pleasant lilt gone, replaced with a more sombre tone as your gaze hardens.

" Who did this? "

[rifleseye]

@thelastpathfinder said.

"Perceptor! Perceptor, are you there? I need—someone just... someone just tried to kill me. I'm hurt. I'm five minutes out—"

Long unused seams open as soon as Wayfairer's first panicked message reaches his comm. Pistols left as decoration find their home again, and he doesn't take the time to prepare his rifle. He doubts range will be necessary. Perceptor does not hesitate as he leaves his office.

Two fingers on the side of his head to open the channel on his end: "I'm on my way. Find cover." No questions as to who would try to hurt it. Cold calculus and composure settles on his face as he moves at speeds he hasn't had to in a long time.

"Which direction? North, east, west, south?"

[rifleseye]

@thelastpathfinder said.

"Per—ceptor." You hover over his shoulder. "I want... to learn more. From your books."

You smile, careful and gentle as you turn to look at Wayfarer. You were in the middle of some paperwork, but that can wait. " Certainly. What do you want to read? "

[rifleseye]

☎

NAME: Wayfarer NOTIFICATION: Priority status. PICTURE: 

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: [ Can I come back to your home? ] LAST TEXT SENT: [ Can you clean up for me while I'm out? I'll be back in a few days. ]

[rifleseye]

@thelastpathfinder said.

❝ you startled me. i…i was miles away. ❞

bg3 prompt.

you approached asking about what it's recently learned — a method you've learned over time helps others retain new information. and you know wayfairer has an already curious mind for an already curious world. so when the only response became distant, unresponsive, you could only assume.

another vision? are they visions? you wonder how that's come to be— if staring at the untempered, yawning void of space unteathers the body/mind/soul from time. you wouldn't know, and you wouldn't dare ask. you know it's already a sensitive subject.

"apologies. i didn't mean to startle you. was it another...?"

[rifleseye]

"Perceptor? I... had an idea. Something I wanted to add to my frame, should reversing the reformatting work. I thought you might be able to help with the logistics of it."

— Perceptor's attention shifts from the lines of code he's been staring at tirelessly for the past several days. He briefly thinks they must have seared themselves into his vision leaving a ghost in his optics before he blinks a few times and rubs at his eyes. He sets the tablet down and looks at Wayfarer.

"Do you have anything drawn up of it? I'll give it a look."

[mastermegatron]

Leans in and sniffs him. Hm.

...Grabs it by the neck. "Dare I ask what you are doing?"