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Transformers In Character!
If you believe in hope, it is because of doubt. [Prompt Response] 
6th-Sep-2010 03:41 am
trix overlooking river
TFA Slipstream

After being released from Autobot Medbay, where she had been in the care of Ratchet and then Swoop, Slipstream returns to her penthouse in Park Slope Apartments. She has made the trip at night, hoping it would be less obvious she is only managing a weak hover and cannot run, transform, or fly in root mode at full power. She is not fully recovered from her failed experiment with transwarp technology, but her medi-bot has deemed it acceptable she continue recovery at home.

That small hope of avoiding embarrassment, at least, has paid off. Slipstream is now home, and has not encountered trouble along the way. She realizes, that her own CPU considers Nexusville and, specifically, the apartment to be her home - the fact that someone obviously did some landscaping in their park increases her feeling of peace with the place. Time was she had considered Luna a place to return to, and had almost begun to consider Detroit home, during her stay.

Reaching the interior of her apartment, Slipstream sends a wireless command to bring up the lights to 50% and hobbles gingerly to the energon dispenser to draw a small ration. It is all the dispensers in this building are capable of providing. Hopefully, small rations and recharge will be all her shard needs to complete her regeneration...a little more solid food might help, but Slipstream has possibly had enough while at Medbay to give the nanomachines of her self-repair system material enough to make her whole.

Drinking down the ration quickly, Slipstream leans on the walls and furnishings to make her way to her home office. She has a lot of work on which to catch-up. Her remote connection to the WTP R&D Facility's server allows her to monitor conditions at the Facility and at the Alpha and Beta sites. She knows she is supposed to 'take it easy', but she will rest better if she has a better idea of what has been going on.

After checking the status of the Wind Turbine Project and activity at the Facility and both public and secret energy-generating sites, Slipstream sends out some comms:

First she sends an open comm to the community: //This is Slipstream, making an announcement regarding the Nexusville Community's Wind Turbine Project. I am pleased to announce that our hopes have been fulfilled in this project. We are now generating enough energy that the Project can supply energon on an as-needed basis to the Community that has so long supported it. The energy we generate today will fuel our hopes for the future! On behalf of the Community and the Project, I thank everyone who helped us toward this goal. I will announce further details, soon. Please direct inquiries to me by comm.\\

//Starscream, thanks so much for not doing as I politely requested, and not bringing me my pen, when I wanted it! You are really starting to live up to the designation. I hope it was just a matter of you asserting your position in the chain-of-command and thinking that being 2IC meant you didn't have to take orders from the Air Commander, unless we were on a sortie! Do remember that I am also your Landlady and can evict you, if you give me the slightest cause! But, you're safe for now, since I am home, and have my pen, and rather like the landscaping. I hope you didn't steal all that gravel from the track!"\\

There is still work that can be done, but in truth the travel from Autobot Medbay has proven to Slipstream that the injury, long inactivity, and requirements of regeneration have left her easily drained by physical activity. As much as she wishes to deny it, she is not so blindly arrogant as Thundercracker. She knows she requires rest, if not recharge and must avoid strenuous activity. To this end, she sends a wireless command to start some atmosphereic music playing, then hobbles to the bench in the sitting area and lies down.

Despite her injury, Slipstream feels very positive. The implosion and her injury were definite set-backs, and, for a time, filled her with doubt; but she now views these as learning experiences and has firm hope that she can use what she has learned to achieve success in the future. She has plans.

[ooc: Slipstream is physically in her apartment. She will reply to virtual communication, audio comm, video, etc., and may allow visitors, if she judges them not to be a threat to her in her weakened state. Even if I described it differently in the past, Slipstream's penthouse is #3 and on the southwest corner. Office, Utility, and the door to the Bath are things on the right, viewed from the entrance, and Sitting area and door to Berth are things on the left.]
Comments 
6th-Sep-2010 12:05 pm (UTC)
BW Waspinator

//Congratz, Sizter! Iz alwayz good when project comez together. And Wazpinator iz glad you feel better too.// *completely and totallly sincere, of course*
6th-Sep-2010 08:07 pm (UTC)
TFA Slipstream

//Thanks, Wasp. You sounds better. That is something to be glad about.//
6th-Sep-2010 08:18 pm (UTC)
BW Waspinator

//Yup! Wazpinator got hiz memoriez back! Remember everything and everybody :D//
6th-Sep-2010 08:33 pm (UTC)
TFA Slipstream

//That's excellent! Then, everyone is on the mend. We should celebrate.//
6th-Sep-2010 11:42 pm (UTC) - via comm
Upon receiving her community message, the hunter feels a shred of hope regained for the state of Nexus. He can't shake the haunting paranoia that the settlement's truce is hanging by a fine thread, but at least Nexus's strongest cross-factional establishment is going strong, and now thankfully contributing to the well-being of their society.

It's also nice to hear Slipstream back to her old self and busied with work again. He could only imagine the restlessness she must have been feeling while cooped up in the medbay. He could hardly stand it himself and he didn't have it nearly as bad she did. She's probably still chompin' at the bit to be unable to transform and tear open the skies the way she was built to. Poor gal, if only dancing could replace that exhilaration for her. He wishes he had a way to speed up her recovery but for the time being, all he can do is make good his word and give her an evening of pampering, primping and partner dancing.

Slow partner dancing, of course. He wouldn't want to exacerbate her injuries.


//Evenin' Mastermind. You got a slot in tonight's schedule that I can be penciled into?\\

For the first time a couple solars he finds his smile, and it sticks as he pulls up to the apartment's front door.

7th-Sep-2010 12:09 am (UTC) - Re: via comm
Lockdown. Slipstream receives the comm, and considers her reply for a klik. Their arrangement is not one that corresponds to any set of social conventions she knows. Part of her protests that he should not be allowed to see her so vulnerable, while some other part insists he is one of few she can allow...that he already has seen her vulnerable...and hasn't done permanent damage yet. She's still conflicted, but decides it is best not to admit it right now.

//Hey, Coattails. You know your name is always on my dance card. You going to come courting like a gentlemech, or are you comming me on business?//

7th-Sep-2010 12:20 am (UTC) - Re: via comm
Transforming in a graceful whirl, he makes his way inside the lobby then up to her penthouse floor.

//You know I always mean business, darlin'.//

He smirks, stepping off the elevator and striding down the hall to her front door. His knuckles rap a catchy rhythm upon it.

//But can't I conduct my business in a gentlemechly fashion?//
7th-Sep-2010 12:27 am (UTC)
Maybe, it is always kinda business and pleasure with him, she thinks. And, he is already at her door. She sends the wireless command to unlock the door.

Door's open now.

She pushes herself up so that she is sitting on the bench, facing the door, leaning weight into her left arm.
7th-Sep-2010 01:22 am (UTC)
He enters, optics quickly scanning the entire room by order of his default defensive programming before stopping to fix on her clearly-exhausted frame. His shoulders relax at the sight of her and his sensor net flares a little at taking in her seekeresque curves. He's drawn to her instantly and takes a seat on the edge of the bench, gearing up with a deep intake to deliver a smooth and debonair greeting.

Hi.

He freezes a moment, finding himself oddly lacking in charming snark. Time to resort to greeting her with a kiss--always a failsafe gentlemechly move. He leans over but only makes it halfway, feeling awkward and suddenly transported back to his early academy days when he first discovered the frightening world of dating. He lingers in his failed attempt, his smile twitching nervously and his optics darting from side to side. His internal cursing levels are about to reach critical mass. He must have left his game back the medbay...

...or perhaps he should stop attempting to mask his anxiety over recent events with the carefree persona he thought he could wear for her.


Frag.

He droops with an exvent, looking away sheepishly.

Sorry gal, I'm fresh outta suave tonight.

Reaching into subspace, he pulls out a black ink pen, figuring all is not lost so long as he still has the ability to paint tattoos.

But at least I got this. Not that you need it, I mean...you're lookin' real pretty and...

He sighs again, shaking his head in embarrassment.

Slaggit all to the pit.
7th-Sep-2010 02:19 am (UTC)
Wow, she thinks, mech's really off his game. It isn't as though she doesn't have a clue. They've both been irritable and then down, with their injuries, and friends and associates getting hurt, or killed. And, Slipstream knows, she can rant about this all. She can. But, she can use a bit more guile and potentially achieve the same goal, which was making things normal between them. Normal for them being playfully adversarial, but actually rather supportive. Because, they really do have some things in common that allow them to understand each other, despite all the things they don't have in common.

First, she corrects the fact that Lockdown did not greet her with a kiss, by moving that other half of the distance to kiss him. She's not trying to be devastating, just present enough contact and movement to say she's aware she acts distant when they are in public, and misses just having someone to be with.

Next, she grins at him as she speaks coolly, all distortion gone from her repaired vocalizer. Think you can relax a little, now? I wouldn't mind some detailing, but my schedule's pretty free. I've got time if you have. I'll even change the music, or make you some tea, if you like.

But, finally, the fierce glow in her optics says he better get his act together. She's sure he understands she can be there - she's been there before, like he has for her - but she can't do it for him.
7th-Sep-2010 03:22 am (UTC)
The minimal space left between their lips is consumed by a strong kiss, complete with a deep humming moan that vibrates across their mouths. He was not about to disappoint her with any shortcomings in passion. His problems can wait. Wait until he's been properly reaquainted with his partner in sparkache. Wait until they at least have a hot cup of tea in their grasps. With a tilt of his head, he kisses her again, deeper, pressing as hard as her full yet fragile lips will allow.

Finally he separates the kiss but keeps close, leaning his forehead against hers and dimming his optics. He speaks with a gravelly calm through a relaxed smile.


Music's nice. It'll go well with the tea, which I'll make.

Bringing his hand to her face, he brushes the backs of two fingers down her cheek, then neck then along the curves of her torso. He can still feel a weakness to the integrity of certain areas of her armor, but she's a far cry from the gory state she had been in several solars ago. He has seen his fair share of carnage but her condition certainly ranked up there in his top ten. His smile shrinks slightly as concern fills his processor, his thoughts focusing on how the whole experience must have affected her. She is no doubt wise beyond her physical age, but even the strongest most scarred warrior would be offset if they went through what she did.

Slipstream? He inquires with a near-whisper. How're ya feelin'?
9th-Sep-2010 02:29 am (UTC)
[ooc: In from here.]

Slipstream looks up, when Lockdown stops moving his hook along her thigh. His voice sounds tense to her, and she questions with her gaze, or tries, but doesn't quite catch his optics, as he happens to lift his cup. She figures she said something to affect him, but she really doesn't know what. He had outright asked to hear about Starscream. She doesn't see why suggesting he might be swaying her would be a factor; being seductive and manipulative is a good thing by her calculation.

She is about to question, when Lockdown starts to mention Prowl. Oh, she thinks, it's to be equal exchange again. This makes sense to her. It is the first function of their partnership, Brokensparks Anonymous as it were, to help each other get over the ones they had wanted but could not have. And, she thinks, it had felt good to let out that anger.

Slipstream remembers watching a bad Earth movie in which a man and woman took a bath and the man said something about paying money for therapy to be able to say he was "very angry with his father" and the woman said something about the therapy available in the length of her legs. Then Slipstream remembers that she had recalled this same scene before when she was in a bath with Lockdown-!

Slipstream arches her backstruts to sit just a bit straighter and nods as if she's been paying attention 100%, instead of getting distracted by-! She listens as Lockdown explains how Prowl is his friend and partner, and when Lockdown's expression goes stern, she fears he knows she got distracted, but as far as she can tell, that hardness is just his lack of sympathy. She's able to piece together that she missed Lockdown explaining why Jazz wasn't quite available to Prowl.

When Lockdown finishes his confession, Slipstream, sincerely, is not sure how to respond. She knows her own opinions, but for a klik she hesitates to speak; wondering if this is one of those times when a friend either says what one wants to hear, as a comfort, or is harsh, for the other's own good. Both of those options depend on actually knowing what the other wants to hear and/or what is good for them. She knows her thoughts, not Lockdown's. She's not quite arrogant enough to assume herself a relationship expert, either.

I-I may be shooting myself in the foot here, figuratively, but you being with Prowl while he is pining for the unavailable Jazz makes roughly as much sense as you being with me while I'm pining for the unavailable Starscream...and if you have any more emotional attachment to him than you do me, it makes even more sense.

She shivers, trying to get over the fact that the most efficient and logical solution there was also disturbingly self-sacrificing!

Relationships don't work on logic, though, do they? She laughs coldly as she looks side-long at Lockdown. Except our little partnership. Maybe we should invite Prowl to a meeting so he can talk about how it feels to want someone who just isn't available in the manner he wants or deserves. I'll say I sympathize. You can offer the comforting gestures...

The reality of the hook on her thigh dawns on her.

...You were totally mad I suggested you were being manipulative when you were trying to be comforting, weren't you?!

Edited at 2010-09-09 02:57 am (UTC)
9th-Sep-2010 05:15 am (UTC)
I just wanted to know how you'd feel in my situation...and what you'd do.

The hook resumes its gentle petting along her thigh and he watches it, specifically studies her alluring curves with a grateful gleam to his optic. She always seems to know what to say to get his head straight, even if her words have done nothing more than inadvertently point out how much his head needs straightening.

Suppose there's a balance I gotta find between bein' a friend to Prowl and lookin' out for my own spark. That's the only logical conclusion it seems, 'cause I sure as slag don't wanna fall off the wagon. And it's not like he's for certain gonna seek out my support this time anyway.

He meets her optics with a raised brow and makings of a smirk.

And we ain't invitin' him to our "club". Like I've said, I don't mix business and pleasure. 'Sides, the kid's as likely to come to one of our "meetings" as Hot Wings is.

He glances away to drink some tea, then sets the cube down on the floor. When he meets her gaze again, he's holding the black tattoo pen in his hand.

Now, there any particular optic-liner styles you have in mind. Perhaps somethin' you seen in one a'them glamor magazines?

Edited at 2010-09-09 05:17 am (UTC)
9th-Sep-2010 10:43 am (UTC)
Well, since you are kindly offering a comforting gesture again, I may be inclined to answer. However it is intended, Slipstream's processor interprets the motion as seductive, but she is comforted, now, that the petting continues.

I would feel angry if he came back, and I would feel offended if he came to me and it wasn't on my terms. Physical attraction's a powerful thing, it would be hard to resist. I know you don't much care for all aspects of his personality, but he's beautiful, high-ranking, very smart, and the best flier. And, I would expect you to tell me that I should refuse, not for your sake, so I would be with you, but because I deserve someone who is going to come to me on my terms, and be able to give me what I really need, and as my partner in sparkache, you can't let me be with him on his terms, because you know it would end with me hurt again. He makes me crazy and angry, but you make me sane and happy.

Slipstream smiles at Lockdown, glad that he understands about the wagon-falling and seems to be regaining his snark.

She is overjoyed, when he brings-up the topic of liner for her optics. She grasps the datapad from one of the occasional tables and taps with the tip of one talon to select the article with photos and cosmetic layout schematics.

I am confident you can do a good job with this one. See? It looks like a thick solid line at a distance, but in close-up you can see it's a double line, like some kind of racing or pin striping! They have a single thin line below the optic, a thick one above, and then a thin one just above that.
9th-Sep-2010 06:48 pm (UTC)
He studies the image at her prompting, narrowing his optics and leaning in closer to see better. At his age, he should really look into magnifiers for his optics sensors...but he would never tell her that.

No problem.

He assures with a rasp, swinging a leg over her and assuming a very unprofessional straddle across her hips. He takes the datapad from her and analyzes it more, shifting his glance between the picture and her beaming ruby optics. The heat from her body warms his thighs, just like her words in reference to him warms his spark.

He lowers the datapad and holds his gaze on her, smiling with an expression somewhere between sincere and bashful.


Physical attraction is a powerful thing.

He leans forward, now hovering over her on all fours, his mouth hanging a short distance above her's.

And yer damn straight I wouldn't let you be with him. Don't care how pretty he is.

Lowering slightly he connects their lips with a series of light kisses. His gravelly words sneak out where they can.

He may be smart with battle strategy and...avoidin' me, but he's a fool to have let you get away.
10th-Sep-2010 01:28 am (UTC) - Watery Tart
Slipstream focuses on remaining still - she can't move far, trapped between the bench and his legs - she anticipates that Lockdown is going to move the tip of the tattoo pen near one of her optics. But Lockdown doesn't even move his hand near her faceplate; he bows to kiss her instead. Physical attraction really is a powerful thing, she thinks, like the Moon's gravitational pull on the tides.

A fool. She whispers. She finds her processor recalls memories of rain at the light kisses. She speaks, not fully aware of what she is saying; words made vocal by some emotional subroutine or part of her base programming. Missed you so much. Not the same with parts missing. Wanted to be with you. Wanted you to hear me; know I was there. See me. Feel me.

Slipstream trembles. The few light kisses trigger a flood of emotions that she had not actively been aware were repressed. Like waters through an opened floodgate, a great wave of relief washes over her. She feels she can drown in the sensation of a few light kisses.

Hold me.

Can't paint her optics if she's shaking.

Just slaggin' hold me a klik.
10th-Sep-2010 08:49 pm (UTC) - Hopelessly romantic ol'scoundrel
The trembling and her words push through all the dark bitter layers in his spark and grab hold of the core where he harbors his most sacred and vulnerable emotions.

Oh Trix.

The words seep out in a raspy whisper, pushing warm air over her cheek and audio.

Missed you too. I was so...

He pauses to scoop his arms beneath her then sits them both up, hugging her flush to his chest.

...scared we'd never have this again.

By this he means everything they share together. Tea, movies, snark, passion...and especially dancing. All of his logical programming should be telling him to back off, for the preservation of his spark. Don't put it on the chopping block again, not when it's still mending from the last time.

I almost lost all hope...

But he can't do that. Not with her. Not since his wounded spark finds comfort when close to her shard.

Until you talked to me through song, that night in the medbay. It was the best song I ever heard. Told me that I hadn't lost ya.

Guiding her arms to wrap around his neck, his lifts them both to their feet, making sure to support her weight against his chassis. He doesn't dare risk injuring her but he can't contain his need to do this any longer and he trusts his strength and grace to prevent harming her.

Now you can keep draped over me like a rag doll or you follow some steps. Don't matter to me so long as you feel good about it, and if it get's to be to much then you tell me to stop.

From the extensive playlist he carries with him, he selects a song from an artist he recently shared with the entire community. He believes the poetic nature of the lyrics combined with the easy waltz timing should help settle her shaken psyche. He's stared death down the throat many times but he can hardly wrap his processor around what she went through. All he can do is try his damnest to make it all better.

I promise not to hurtcha.

He slides his bulky feet under her sharp pedes then wraps his arms tight around her waist. Their lips are merely a breath apart and he breaks a tiny almost cocky smile before easing into the 3-step therapy. It feels awkward at first with all the weight on him, but he adjusts quickly, taking shorter steps and focusing more on the sways and turns. Turning his mouth to graze over her audio, he whispers gently.

Feel better, darlin'?
11th-Sep-2010 01:32 am (UTC)
Slipstream does not say anything else, for a time. She feels she said enough. She knows what she spoke, she knows her feelings; but also she knows that though Decepticons have the potential to feel such emotion, such things as attachment and longing are not to be acknowledged in public. Even here, in private, within the confidence of their partnership as kin in sparkache, she is not at peace with all she has revealed. Yet, it remains true.

She focuses, instead on the physical: what she can feel. She fights that overwhelming feeling by concentrating her CPU's active processes on one movement at a time. The dance of thermal currents against the thin dermal plating of her faceplate and neck. Mis-matched arms gliding against her sides. The gentle point of a hook. The rough grasp of digits. The warm, broad surface of his chest against her intakes. The light touches along the insides of her gauntlets. The firm grasp of her waist. The shifting of her own center of gravity, and then that curious sensation of sharing a center of gravity with another.

She hears every word, but the physical touch is grounding and most comforting to her. She allows herself to be pliant, to be led, even to be lifted. Perfect acquiescence is her grateful response. A slight nod is her assent and understanding.

The Waltz is one of her favorites, for the repetition of threes in music and steps. It is probably some part of her kernel, some Seeker base code that tells them that one flies lead and two follow at the Leader's wings. On the ground one takes point and two cover rear and flanks. If one falls, there are two to share that weight. It is so ingrained that she thinks triangles - and most pointy things - pretty.

I do feel better. She speaks finally. In fact, I think I can manage the steps on my own. Not that I do not appreciate the assist.

She waits to the end of a repetition, steps her right foot back and onto the floor, and on the next count swings her left foot out onto the floor.

Nice choice: this dance. Slipstream draws her feet together.

As their dance continues, she draws her left hand from behind Lockdown's neck, to his right shoulder, talons purposefully grazing spikes along the way. The talons of her right hand glide along the plating of Lockdown's left arm, through two three-counts, until they find his digits.

A couple solar cycles and I'll be able to really swing. She smirks.
12th-Sep-2010 05:06 pm (UTC)
Ramjet heads over to the apartments, deciding its been too long since he visited Slipstream. He lands in his apartment, really the first time he's ever been in it, and comms her.

//Care for a visitor?//
12th-Sep-2010 05:27 pm (UTC)
Slipstream receives the comm.

//Ramjet. Sure. You can come over. You know which apartment is mine?//

[ooc: Right now, mun cannot remember which number the Penthouse is, and is looking through scrawled notes and not finding her tiny map. It's possibly I accidentally gave Trix and Emo both the same Penthouse at some point. I need to go check old posts to figure it out. LOL.]
12th-Sep-2010 05:54 pm (UTC)
//No, I don't know.//

Ramjet heads over to Slipstream's apartment, knocking on the door to alert her.
12th-Sep-2010 06:37 pm (UTC)
Slipstream hears the knock and sends the wireless command to unlock the door.

Open now. You may enter.

She is seated in a chair in her home office, which is just to the right of the entrance. She is running some simulations of their transwarp experiment, which display as simple animations on the monitors before her.

12th-Sep-2010 06:48 pm (UTC)
Ramjet walks in, finding Slipstream right away and walking over to her. He leans down, checking out the display.

"The transwarp experiment? Are we trying again?"
12th-Sep-2010 07:05 pm (UTC)
Slipstream trills laughter.

That would be like trying to kill Megatron with a bomb, right after failing to kill Megatron with a bomb!

She is not eager to get herself ripped apart again.

We'll need a different plan.
12th-Sep-2010 07:19 pm (UTC)
Ramjet chuckled.

"Some mechs might think that's a bad strategy. Made any progress?"
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