heavyweaponsbot: (Facing the fire together)
[Oh yes, by now he knew exactly how to get the pumpkins to stop talking. It would have been smart of him to do so. He would probably have been saving himself a lot of trouble by doing it.]

[But he hasn't.]

[The pumpkins are still whispering and whining. He'd smashed several of them -- Decepticon faces all, and that had felt good. By now... he's tracked on to one in particular. Only centuries of long association have allowed him to tune the words out, listening to the voice. If he shutters his optics, he can pretend he's being lectured, or being made to listen to some science babble or other.]

[His head is bowed, and one of his hands is resting lightly on the pumpkin in question.]

[He can't bring himself to break this one -- not when it has the voice he's been missing for months now. He'd never expected separation to be this difficult.]

[Ironhide can be found solemnly regarding the Ratchet-pumpkin in the early morning hours of the Keep.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Stand alone complex)
[Things have died down. And now there's nothing going on but pounding, pouring rain.]

[While the old timer should probably have gone to refuel, he opts instead to go out in the wet. Why? He can't really say. Maybe he's disappointed he let his charges down -- after checking everywhere, it's become obvious Zuko is no longer among the Keep's guests. Maybe he feels he failed them some other way -- he should have been the one to put an end to Riku, not Xanth.]

[... He should still be on the Shore.]

[Try as he might these few weeks, he can't shake that feeling. There's something missing. And it's painful. Like he's missing a vital internal component.]

[Ironhide winds up near the lake, in the middle of the downpour, just staring out at the water. The water pings off his armor. He never thought he'd admit it, but the sound and motion of the waves is... well.]

[It's familiar.]

[And therefore, it's comforting.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Save your fears)
I want a status report! Infected, well, whatever, sound off.

Xanth, Zuko. Tell me you are unharmed.

Some illness will not affect me. I will protect anyone who requires it.

[With or without a response, the big Autobot is going zombie stomping, looking for his kids.]
heavyweaponsbot: (FLAWLESS.  VICTORY.)
[Good evening, Keep residents. Where is your resident Autobot, you might ask? Why, he's found himself the Armory, that's what.]

[And, he was hoping to find some scrap metal. But, like so much of his life, lately, he's out of luck. No metal, no charges, no medic... not even the stupid frog.]

[His engine growls a low, almost mournful note before his fingers close around one of the practice blades, and he flings it across the room, where it smacks against the wall with a satisfying sound of cracking wood.]

[But the feeling only lasts for so long, and he's left with a broken sword, and no 'family'. Not even the scraps he was looking for.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Running to fight)
[The voice that suddenly booms over the journals should be familiar to some.  And, if not, it's certainly loud and attention-getting.  Someone is clearly unhappy.]

This... is a lie. It must be. It cannot be possible -- not again!

[A pause.  There's some mechanical shifting while the party in question tries to remain calm.  There is also a sound like... water dripping?]

Who is listening? Can anyone hear me! This is Ironhide -- stuck in some... room somewhere. With a talking book. And no frog. I had a frog on me a moment ago.

[Another pause -- and he's right back to being borderline frantic.]

... Ratchet! Do you read this? Answer me! ... Answer me. You must be here.

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Ironhide

June 2014

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