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Post by RedOptics on May 3, 2015 0:35:21 GMT
She did indeed lift her helm a slight to look forward, but not at his face, more or less just his neck since she technically couldn't find it.I didn't become a Vehicon by choice. I was more or less forced. Stupid. Unnecessary info. What I mean is, how can we win if they too gain strength and lose strength every day? Why can't we all see that we are all the same? Back then, I preferred my life in a corrupt society, at least then I had more to live for. War does tear everyone apart, and not all of us are elastic, Taggon. You may be strong in trying to win, but not even you will last forever. No one will, and I have accepted that. And I have accepted that we will die out, whether it tomorrow or a thousand eons from now. I only joined the caused so that I could die peacefully. And peacefully I will. Face it. The cause on this world is getting the best of all of us, and we aren't bothering to change the new generation that we are. I wanted to go back to being Rebird, just a normal femme, despite looks. But no! Instead we're out there, suffering and fighting against another that could be a brother or sister! So tell me, what is the point we we'll all just die anyways?! She had raised her voice again and stomped her trod hard on the metal floor. This wasn't going anywhere. Then she gripped her helm, trying to calm herself down.
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Post by Taggon on May 3, 2015 4:10:56 GMT
She seems to have not asked herself why we live. Or why we should. Taggon ventured in his processor. It seemed that as one layer at a time was peeled, Cataract was a femme who had been through much. She was not a fighter. If she was this kind of femme inside her helm, she didn't fight to live, or have a powerful will to survive. Yet she was intelligent in her own sense. It made Taggon fall silent as he was told by another person that he was a war-machine, and not everyone could do what he could. Taggon could acknowledge that the conversation had escalated from him doing something scum-like to her own personal thoughts and feelings on the war. Taggon wondered what Windtalker was making of this. The bird had been silent for some time, most likely wisely absorbing what he could, and perhaps saving his own psalms for the after math of the conversation. So Catarct had been someone before the war. Taggon could relate.
"Of course I will not last. That is the point of becoming a vehicon. You live, you fight, you-" Taggon stopped himself from saying the next part. He was not yelling, or angry still, but he had refrained from saying the last part. -You die. "It is what soldiers are for Cataract. It was our duty to protect by any means. There are those of us who are aggressive, but essentially it all comes down to making sure that the people in your faction are remaining online. Soldiers make sacrifices, choices some choices others could not, and fight for their people. I learned it is not honour. It is not about lasting the longest, it is not about becoming the ultimate weapon, and it is not about how you can handle things. It is simply doing what needs to be done. Over and over again. We were all someone before the war. I was....I believe..." Taggon glanced at Wind talker,
"A mech called Ajjathos. All I remember is mining minerals for the government. Maybe I was not the most colourful mech, maybe I was, but either way, what is done is done. You can look at your past, and spend your life wishing that events had not happened, or you can learn from it, and adapt. Maybe you can be like the femme you were. Maybe you still are, with a little more responsibility. I say maybe because even though I do not know Rebird, you Cataract might have stopped possibility being her if you accept defeat. Why should we not accept defeat?" Taggon asked the question for her, talking to her as an older brother does a dismayed sister,
"You came online. Why should you go offline any time soon? We are machines Cataract. All of us have a purpose, though it can be switched. Why should any of not die? There would be no point in being online on the first place. I am a fighter as I have indicated, and though I am designed for war, but those who are not hold the identity of Cybertron in their servos. The non-fighters are protected so they can make something that will thrive." Taggon said, "As for the new generation of Cybertronians, I asked a similar question but a few weeks ago. Feenixfire Prime and her grandson Skyspray, bless their sparks, are working to improve a new generation in the Academy. At the moment, there is not much progress, but progress is something that never comes fast." Taggon replied.
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Post by RedOptics on May 3, 2015 4:45:14 GMT
Vehicons like us are nothing but shields for them. Everyone knows that. Her voice suddenly got emotional. It was funny, she didn't think of him as a brother, just a friend who could and probably did feel the same way as her once. While he was full of hope, she was empty, and she couldn't be filled so easily with the hope he held within. Her only wish was none related to the topic. No one is defeated in this war, but no one will win... This will only go on until more worlds are consumed, and yet we don't bother striking the heart, merely just the other parts.... Then she took off her mask for a moment, checking if there were any tears. She kept her optics closed to he wouldn't have to see them. But one thing stuck out like a sore thumb, a single prolonged scar running from the right side of her mouth to her left optic ridge. Now it was the eyes she forbid anyone to see. Cat put the mask back on and supposedly looked at him again, ignoring her recent action.
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Post by Taggon on May 3, 2015 7:00:38 GMT
Taggon widened his optics behind his own mask as Cataract took off hers, revealing her faceplate and then put it back on again. Taggon caught a glimpse of the graceful faceplate, and the long scar. He had a few scars, though they were not nearly as long as that one. Cataract wordlessly placed the mask back onto her face before she faced him again. Taggon was short of words. Vehicons didn't normally just take off their masks just like that. They kept them on, it was in the rules. Then again, Cataract and him were bound by no Decepticon laws, so technically it would not harm anyone if he took off his mask. But Taggon preferred his mask right where it was. He didn't want anyone to see his face. He didn't know why, but he just liked his mask on more than off. Her voice had swelled full of emotion, which meant they were hitting topics and he was saying words which triggered different mental patterns. Taggon pulled himself back together, he had taken off his mask before. The Avacon gave a small sigh, before continuing.
"It is true vehicons are another form of shields. Trust me, I know." Taggon answered simply, in a low tone.
"Your problem Cataract, is that you are devoid of any hope. Something snapped in you, most likely long ago, and ever since you can no longer see the alternative to hopelessness." Taggon said, "I am no guru, but when you lose hope, your grip on your faith can erode as well. I have theories that is what happened." Taggon took a moment. She had consistently kept changing the subject, the conversation had detoured from scum-moves to how useless a war was anyways. They were quite on the opposite sides of the table, the way Taggon saw it. Taggon tried to recall everything Cataract had said in their small meetings. The recovery ward. Yes, the recovery ward. They had met each other and spent a few long hours together chatting. Cataract had said she had abandoned the Decepticons, quite simply put, for the reason of extensive bullying.
"You were antagonized to 'death'? You said a while back many people abused and tormented you gravely, and you had to struggle to do anything...so you gave in. You came to this faction because you knew that even though you were different, strange, and blind, they would except you. They did. But you still struggle to do anything still. You knew you would still be in a toilsome state, despite your adaptions on being able to upgrade your other senses, so you came to the conclusion you wanted to quit living. Is not that right?" Taggon said, pulling together the bits of data he could recall, and forming an official theory. He had no distaste for Cataract in his past sentences, but had shown some small signs of sorrow for her. He knew a tortured soul when he saw one. He could predict her emotions would grow from this point as well.
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Post by RedOptics on May 3, 2015 12:29:09 GMT
Quit living... so I can regain what I have lost. Her words were the same as some other bots who died by their own depression, but oddly enough, killing herself didn't feel right. Perhaps she'd run into a pack of Decepticons, or probably fall off a cliff. Or perhaps the DJD would take her away. No, stop thinking about that. My intentions were for the Autobots to truly change me, not by reprogramming, but simply by giving me the hope I need. Now look where that got me. It ended there, she really had no more words. So she took a step forward and tilted her helm down so her forehelm met with his chest as if to sob, but made no noise or movement to even begin to tear up.
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Post by Taggon on May 3, 2015 14:35:10 GMT
Taggon had ripped away another layer, and it had brought the femme to as stage in which she was confident she needed support. Or she had given into her despair, or just had done this for both. Taggon held stone still as she shifted some of her weight on his upper chest cavity, right were the pitch black screen like ice was. The war-machine wondered if he should hesitate to comfort her. he knew the outcome of some actions, and his small foresight did lead him to pondering upon what to do next. An example of this was he knew that he had many mechs and femmes yet to persuade him of his purpose. His visor had faced the fore-helm of white and somewhat golden Cataract.
"You gain nothing if you die. You may obtain a form of peace...but what you need to act upon is the fact that you cannot just be a femme who hides in the shadows, plotting or awaiting your undoing. Vehicons group together for more of a reason than just it being in their programming. When you are a grunt, you only have each other. Your squad is your family. You live for your squad and your family. You lost yours, I lost mine. I still look out for the remaining members to an extent, but I found a new family. I found friends...and it is for these friends that I find half of my will to live. Reasons vary from me adoring them, them being someone who has been an old companion who has displayed admirable loyalty, or one who posses a certain leadership and strength that few can serve properly. Or..." Taggon had spoken in a low tone, as not to speak too loudly. The femme didn't need a monotonous voice to scold her, and she could hear him much better than he himself.
"To look out for those who no one else has time or concern for." Taggon stated. His deep red visor seemed to glow a hue bright r for just the fraction of a second.
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Post by RedOptics on May 3, 2015 15:27:25 GMT
She didn't speak, just merely lifted her helm again and taking a step back now. Another moment of silence, for she now really had no words except, ...Thanks... Then she cleared her throat with a small nod and turned towards the entrance. Cataract simply just walked over to it but stopped and looked down, then around to Taggon, ...What do you think will happen...? She didn't say what would, or even a time, just a simple question that aimed for anything. The femme wanted him to take the question any ways he wanted, whether it be about their survival or the war, or any other topic. But not even she has answered the question multiple times she has asked it to herself.
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Post by Taggon on May 4, 2015 0:14:30 GMT
Taggon let Cataract go on her way. For someone blind, it was hard to see that she was at times. She moved so naturally towards the door and stopped right before she hit it. Taggon approached her, and then passed her to punch in the proper commands for the door to open for her. As for her question? Taggon thought it over for a minute, letting silence envelope the room. What would happen? Did she mean the war? To her? To others? Taggon dwelled on those thoughts, thorough in his own answer.
"My knowledge is limited. I try to predict, but that does not always work. Life gives no one any assurance to protection. However, it does not mean we should not live."
Taggon said, giving her a small pat on the shoulder.
::If you require me any other time for anything you believe you need a servo with, summon me with this com-line.::
Taggon spoke through a frequency, establishing another link with one of his friends. The vehicon thought about what he ought to do next, since there was much to be done. He made it up in his mind to go on yet another mining mission. Why not? The Autobots were out fighting, and wouldn't be coming home for a while. Or better yet, he could go on a mining mission after cleaning up after the fight. A new idea suddenly struck Taggon. Humans were a sentimental race. They were symbolic too....so what if...Taggon blinked at the idea. It had much time to be remolded into something better, but still...a new plan was being forged. Taggon called in a ground bridge, and as he waited for the vortex to come into form, he resumed his small talk to Cataract.
"Though try to stay out of the DJD's servos for me will you?" He gave a small glance, his mind flashing back to a friend of his who had gotten into nothing but trouble. The friend was...Taggon didn't know. Lost in a sea of confusion, reprogrammed, alone, and somewhere out of reach. Taggon placed his servos behind his back after checking that he had the proper tools for his next mission, Taggon continued to wait for the ground bridge, and Cataract to say her last words before exiting.
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Post by RedOptics on May 4, 2015 0:35:17 GMT
She reached out a servo to the frame of the entrance and felt the slight draft from the outside. She focused on feeling the heat, thought weak, on her armour and raised her chin a slight when hearing the ground bridge, Good luck. Her voice was now the innocent tone she had when they had first met, but with the tiniest bit of sorrow inside. It was rare for her to smile, even though no one would see it due to the blockage what was her mask. So she hiked up her shoulders and proceeded out, using the wall as her guides when she turned to the right. The design on her mask glinted brightly for a moment before the door closed, as if taking a glance at him before he left.
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Shatterbeam
•
Could be messier.
Autobot
Posts: 606
Likes: 6
Gender: Male
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Post by Shatterbeam on May 4, 2015 0:38:47 GMT
Windtalker backed down, giving one last screech at Cataract before following after Taggon.
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Post by Taggon on May 5, 2015 12:35:29 GMT
Taggon nodded back at the she-vehicon, watching as she walked away. Hopefully, one day, he could mend some of her wounds. He looked back down at his desk, and then made sure his books were organized. The vehicon glanced around, and gave a small sigh. He eyed the video cameras, and chuckled as he heard a little com-link come from one of the students. Ah, helping others never got old. He was needed somewhere one minute, and required for a project or assistance the next.
The vehicon exited the room after spiriting a com-link off to Feexnifire, allowing her to know of some of his intentions, and to display he still subscribed unto her intents as a loyalist. He was no goody-two shoe, but he was determined to show Feenixfire he would serve her as he had promised. With that, the mech exited the room. He gave time for Windtalker to pursue or just go off on his own path. Frankly, the bird had been following him everywhere, and though it made Taggon feel a little happy inside, he would not blame the minicon if he needed a break from a vehicon. Down the halls the silver and black mech went...
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Shatterbeam
•
Could be messier.
Autobot
Posts: 606
Likes: 6
Gender: Male
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Post by Shatterbeam on May 5, 2015 14:34:37 GMT
A mission was a mission. THough Wind lost his body, he did not lose his loyalty. He was given an order, one he intended to follow. "Tail Taggon. Keep an eye on him," Shatter had said. So he'd follow Taggon. Flapping after the mech, engaging his slight back thrusts as well as wingbeats.
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Post by Taggon on Jul 30, 2015 14:07:47 GMT
it was almost as if the blackness was welcoming one of it's own home, as some of the lights flickered along the path to his room. This more run-down unit of the Arc wasn't one which many visited, and Taggon enjoyed this section of the wing. it was much safer here too, in the sense that there were more blinking lights, more gaps in the head-lit areas, which meant potential hiding places were much better, and quick get-aways and cover was more likely. His paint job complimented the darker hues between the lights, before he arrived at his room door. Taggon thus started typing in his answer into the grimy controls, and with that, the door activated.
Taggon waited for Diamond to follow, and when she would make her appearance, he would gesture for her to enter into his room first. The memory of how they first met washed over the vehicon, who stood as firmly as he had ever, but inside, he couldn't help but think of how he had first met Diamond. It was as if she had been ten years younger then. Her innocence, her cautiousness...and at the time, sleepiness. It had been necessary though, and Taggon hans't about to say he was sorry for interrupting a femme's beauty sleep, whether she needed it or not.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 30, 2015 15:01:08 GMT
Diamond glided into the room, not giving him any sort of optic contact. She looked around the open space, it was relatively neat, and looked almost untouched, You never cease to impress, Taggon. She used the same stern voice, but it held a hint of amusement, showing that not all of Diamond had left for sure. There was a pause, then a sigh, and she had turned to face him, I bet that you're mad at me for scaring you by going silent... aren't you? The once big blue optics that she had had, now glowed a shamed hue of blood red that outlined the armor around her face. She crossed her arms the same way she did when she felt small against the world, now that action was recognisable.
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Post by Taggon on Jul 30, 2015 15:16:17 GMT
Diamond's small muttering about not babying around was ignored. Taggon couldn't have cared less how old she was, but at the moment, he didn't desire for her to disappear for months at a time again. He shut the large door behind him, gazing into the simple but very orderly room. He offered her the seat or the berth, since those were really the only two places available for sitting, save the floor. As for him? He simply stood. he remained quiet until Diamond asked her last question, a more worn version of her making itself visible. She was removing her own mask it seemed. He would always grant his friends his emotions, even his own deep thoughts sometimes, but never his own face. It was--it wasn't something that he liked to show to anyone.
"I am not angry at you in the slightest." Taggon said, his own guarded tone giving way to an earnest pitch, as he placed his arms behind his back. "I was worried over you nonetheless Diamond. I will still want to know when you leave on missions..." He trailed off, beginning to pace. "If you know anything about me, you know I always have my reasons. I learn from the past, and apply ti to the present and or future." Taggon said simply. He wasn't sure if he should tell her about what had occurred to his other close friends, but he would tell her other things.
"You are no sparkling Diamond. Blood related or not, you are a sister. I try hard not to lose those."
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 30, 2015 15:48:14 GMT
The femme would decline his offers by not moving or saying anything in response. She listened, seemingly with no interest, but it was yet another deception that this Primus forsaken body gave her. Shifting her stance to a draw up pose, her presence was respectful, but not in the way that Vos had told her to be. At least you have better luck with not losing them than I do. And frankly in your presence, I just feel like a disciple. Another pause, and she put her arms to her sides, not staring at the floor once again, I envy you deeply, Taggon. And I know I'm not the only one who does. As soft as her words sounded, they had been filled with something foreign, naturally jealousy was something she tried compressing down in the pits of her tanks, not wanting it to spring out of her mouth as if she had a hole punched right through her.
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Post by Taggon on Jul 31, 2015 1:19:03 GMT
Taggon simply remained where he was as well, studying Diamond as she went on. He always analyzed his friends behind his visor, he was not paranoid, but he liked nothing more than to understand them as much as he could before he spoke. Diamond seemed to be still somewhat shielded, though she let her more honest speech take over, allowing Taggon to hear a portion of her thoughts without having to read her. The vehicon almost chuckled bitterly at Diamond when she told him he had better luck than her. No, they both had at least the same level of luck. There was much she did and didn't know about him. He'd just taken up the role as the nice-guy around her since she was his friend, and someone not noticed much by others. And occasionally, she needed someone watching her back. Not that he had been on top of that recently.
As for her envy? Taggon just tilted his helm to the side like one does when they're wincing, though instead of that the vehicon simply smiled sourly at her. To her, he had only told her good things, or things she could handle. Perhaps she wasn't up-to-date with what he had done, and how he was shunned by Autobots, hunted by Decepticons, how his name was almost spat like a small curse by some. He even had a bounty on his helm. Some mechs would take pride in that, however Taggon was a realist. Having multiple people out to kill you wasn't something to be proud of. Killing wasn't something to smirk at, and being wanted for torture or reprogramming wasn't something he found good to boast about. Those who found pleasure or thought such things 'awesome' were fools. Taggon ex-vented a portion of the small chuckle he had attempted to conceal.
"Diamond, I am not someone anyone would want to be. If you could understand precisely what I do, what events and what deeds I have caused with my tools, my abilities, I believe you truly would consider envying me. I have done what you might call great things, but ask around Diamond. Anyone would tell you for what I am really: I am a soldier."
Taggon gestured at himself, "At times, I prefer to just be known as that." He said, "Your life has not been a nice one either Diamond, but you are, in many ways, more respectable than I am." He said. He was avoiding on why some, since he didn't want to go into detail on how he had been molded over the past centuries. If she asked, he would answer though.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 31, 2015 2:31:08 GMT
Its not what you do that I envy. She said sharply, almost cutting him off, It's what you hide. Diamond let off another hiss of air on purpose in her chest, then gripped her right arm as if apologizing for her outburst. You hide youself from the others, so they'll think you can take on anything. You can be so serious when sad or happy. You bite through pain and agony. You have the thickest of shells, Taggon, while the rest of us, our shells are tattered worn or... completely shattered.... Her tone progressivly got softer, but no where near the innocent tone she once had. Thats what I admire under all that envy though... No one has seen you fully laugh, cry or yell in agony. Despite your built in nature that is.
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Post by Taggon on Jul 31, 2015 3:28:03 GMT
Taggon almost widened his optics behind his his helmet at the compliment. To a vehicon, such a statement was utterly flattering, or it was coming from Diamond anyways. He still stood without moving, without flinching or showing any sign that he was flattered, save for him slowly moving his helm back into place from the tilt. He continued to listen to the femme talk as she faced him. Her apologitic maneuver was met with an excusing servo gesture, Taggon waiting his turn to speak patiently.
"Naturally, most vehicons remain faithful to the protocol of making no outward reaction." Taggon answered her. She was still feeling hurt in some way, down deep. There was something about her that told Taggon that there was a giant crack in her spark somewhere, and it wouldn't seal up, but only widen a little more as months went on. It was something he one day hoped would be cured. "It is unusual for anyone to commended me for anything. Thanks." Taggon said briefly, as if they were talking about the weather. He didn't know how else to say it without exploiting too much emotion.
"Forgive my misunderstanding." he said, a little short of words. For her to meet him, prove she was alive and compliment him in the same day was something he found to be quite unusual. His thanks had contained some elements of surprise, possibly making it clear to her she had caught him off guard.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 31, 2015 3:47:23 GMT
Diamond sighed and ran a servo over her face, sensing the awkwardness creep up, After a change like that, I'm not feeling myself. Which is a total understatement. What was there to talk about in this situation? Its not like she can just walk into a conversation about... Has the Earth at least been treating you well? Nevermind. She finally lifted her gaze to meet his, and guessed where they would be behind his visor. Her tires spun slowly with an audible whir, and her air ducts hissed loudly again from sparkingheat in her lungs.
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