The Pills Won't Help You Now [OPEN]

[vandalization]

WHO: Vandal + OPEN to visitors.
WHERE: Medbay | Solus Temple
WHEN: A day after her Big Freakout.
WHAT: Visits and explanations.
WARNINGS: Vandal...

Have some mood music.



Whatever Soundwave had done to her, it had landed just about passed her into another plain of existence for a while.

A dreamless sleep, something she hadn't felt in a while. No screeching static, nothing running at her, needles for arms, drooling puss and stale blood with nothing more than the desire to rip her open.

Just darkness.

And when she wakes, she's alone.

Someone has her stereo system turned on, and soft, crackly music is playing.

Her RIG, bundled in a corner.

When she moves, she finds her arm stinging. Bandaged. She doesn't remember getting hurt, but she remembers being there again. Back on the station. Everything turning to shit. It's been getting worse. Something she was previously able to stave off with a precarious mixture of pills and alcohol, but eventually those weren't even able to dull that whispering. The words that were always just too quiet to make out. Or overlaid with so much static that even when they were screaming she couldn't understand.

She sighs.

She lays back, staring at the ceiling.

Her head is suspiciously quiet.

Karrie could just get up, gather her things and leave, but where would she go? "Home"? She has no real home. She was just fooling herself.

So instead, she stares up and the ceiling and waits, listening to the distant music and the passive sounds of the monitors.

Comments

[thxforthememories]

He probably should have left by now. Should have gone to join the other Braves in the temple he'd been shown when he'd first arrived. Their leader accepted it, readily enough. It made sense.

... Instead, he still lurked around the medical bay, loathe to leave, to step into territory he wasn't entirely sure he belonged in. But he can't stay forever. At length, he decides to go, making his way quietly out. He would have passed the room entirely if the noise inside hadn't attracted his attention.

Curiosity, it seemed, overrode introverted tendencies. He eases inside, looking around for the source of the sound, until he realizes who it is he's stumbled on.

"... Vandal?"

Like everything else, his voice is quiet, flat. Almost too calm.

[ex_dishonestly997]

A few quick checks with parties in the know, and Starscream oriented for the Medbay. He no longer questioned going there so frequently, or cracked wise about it, mostly because he was having serious reservations about the Cybertronian contingent's ability to... handle Vandal.

Himself included.

Maybe he'd been complacent, when he'd been on Earth and thought nothing of learning their (backward) culture(s) or (any of their thousands of) language(s) or--well. Anything. Like why would their biology be of use? They broke easily. Could he ever have anticipated he'd give any kind of damn about putting them together?

When he enters the room she's in, his expression is set in determination, because it's preferable to looking concerned. She'll know he's concerned because he stopped by, can't be helped, there, but it's best she not put her finger on the fact that he's concerned because they have no human doctors and no idea how to stabilize, much less treat, her current condition.

Rung might come in handy, too, it wasn't like you could touch mental problems, they had to be at least a little similar in humans and transformers, right? Who was he kidding.

Every last one of them needed a shrink, so where did he get off? Just... sometimes you just had to make do with what you had.

And at the moment they had each other.

"Hello, Vandal."

[inferiordude]

Not far off, Soundwave is working at a console, typing furiously. His visor glows sharply as he watches the holoscreens display data. It appears that he has most of Vandal's physical data on display, but he's primarily looking over the brain.

There are a lot of things to do right now that he couldn't possibly focus on anything else. The recreational center is still in the hands of others, so he doesn't need to fret about that. No, right now, Vandal needs the help.

So here he is, working away on several things at once. Working up on dream scenarios if he needs to, and trying his hardest to better understand human biology, focusing primarily on the brain.

Just as he knows basic patchwork for Cybertronians, but really has a grasp on the processor. He intends the same for a human, for her benefit.

Soundwave only pauses for a moment, noticing that she's waking up, but he says nothing. She doesn't have to do anything. No expectations right now.

Really, he's just glad that she's okay.

[vandalization]

Her gaze flicks at the sound of her assumed name. Head turning slowly. Oh. It's Kagerou. The quiet awkward one. But then again who isn't quiet and awkward amongst her friends? She could think of a few, when she puts her mind to it, but her mind really isn't up for trying to strain right now.

"Hi," She croaks, mouth feeling like sandpaper, sour and dry.

She breathes in and says nothing more. She doesn't really want to try to make smalltalk right now.

[vandalization]

"Hello, Starscream." Her response comes, without movement, eyes still closed. His voice is very distinctive, and she can easily tell. It's only after a moment that she turns her head to look at him.

It's probably the first really good sleep she's had in a while, but she still looks fatigued. Still pale, sick, used up.

She knows he's going to have questions. That's what he's here for, right? Questions. Things that not even she's sure she knows the answer to, which is downright depressing. And scary. She has absolutely no idea what's wrong with her.

Just that that place... something about it. Whatever the church did, put something in her head.

[ex_dishonestly997]

He sat down next to the bed she was on, folding his legs up under him with a slight bit of difficulty, not used to sitting on the ground, exactly.

"How are you feeling?"

Questions, indeed, and his mind bent towards problem solving would definitely want to play hardball with the others - but he had a politician's spark newly unburied, and he was learning, albeit clumsily, that certain things took a more careful and intelligent response. One that didn't cater so much to personal satisfaction.

[vandalization]

She's only vaguely aware of his presence, and for a little while, she is contented to simply lay there, listen to the passive sounds of his work. The way his joints move just slightly. The comforting sound of metal on metal.

She wonders if that started being comforting ages ago or just after she got here.

"Soundwave?" She finally says, voice quiet and small, a fair bit more than she cares to. Her throat is dry, she'll blame it on that.

[inferiordude]

At her calling for him, Soundwave pauses in the midst of his work. Hands withdraw from the keyboard and he steps away from the console, peering over to her.

The glow in his visor dims softly as he approaches Vandal, crouching by her bed.

"That's the name," he muses softly. "How's the head?"

Clear and crisp for now, he hopes. It's temporary, but necessary.

[thxforthememories]

'Quiet awkward one' is probably one of the best descriptors there is, for this one, and he lives up to it, hovering briefly in the doorway. He's not kicked out, so he assumes that's a cue to step in a little more. Uncertainty hangs over him like a shadow -- excuse the pun -- but he approaches, at length.

She sounds... broken. Why hasn't she been repaired? The confusion flicks over his face, before he schools his expression, and peers at her, his head tilted.

"This isn't how I pictured meeting you," he says, and there's the barest trace of humor in the words, dry and quiet as the rest of him.

[vandalization]

An empty exhale of air can barely be made out as a chuckle.

"Yeah. Things here are rarely what you expect, I'm learning."

Broken would be a good word. 'Modified' might be a better one. She's not like most humans. There is something wrong with her that can't be fixed by spending a few days in the medbay.

By anything, really.

You can't fix someone's brain.

Not easily at least.

[vandalization]

Starscream only gets an almost dubious glance. How does she feel? How does she feel? She could write a fucking novel on how she feels, but as per usual, words seem to nor want to cooperate with her right now.

She shrugs.

"Fine. Tired." She could have laughed at how that was such bullshit she didn't even believe it when she heard it from her own mouth.

She sinks a little, knowing full well Starscream won't really settle for that. It's obvious she's prepared herself.

[vandalization]

"Quiet," She answers. Her head is suspiciously quiet. And Karrie doesn't trust that one damn bit.

"What did you..." Something she's been very curious about since she woke and gave it a little thought.

"What did you do to me?" It comes off a bit accusatory, so she quickly amends.

"I mean. How did you make me pass out like that?"

[thxforthememories]

"So they are..."

He stands there, awkward, quiet, before taking another step nearer. Nothing in his limited experiences cover this, but all the same... she'd been kind to him. He can't overlook that. He won't.

Slowly, he extends a hand toward her -- offering what contact he can. It had always helped him, to be nearer to someone, when he'd been damaged. Although he didn't know her nearly as well as he'd known his fellow ninjabot. If she ignored or refused... no matter. He wouldn't be offended.

"I'm... I'm glad you didn't have to call on me," he says, hesitantly.

[inferiordude]

The words probably aren't meant to be hurtful. Soundwave still leans his head away a little with a soft hum.

It's not like she doesn't deserve to know at this point.

"Easy," Soundwave tells her softly. "I just..."

There's a strained sound before Soundwave turns his head away. "When I was made, I got a few things goin' with me. My equipment inside of me lets me collect and sort out sound. ... It's sensitive. Real sensitive. I pick up all kinds of signals. If I really wanted, I could extend it out and pick it up from a processor from a synthetic. Or the electric signals of an organic brain."

There's some distant shame on his voice. "Most dudes just call it being a telepath. Simple way of lookin' at it. I don't practice with it much. But seein' you in trouble like that, an' a long way from a medic? Had to put you out for a bit. Trigger something to make you go unconscious. There's... something in your brain, Vandal. All I did was put a temporary block on that."

[ex_dishonestly997]

It's obvious from his expression that he's never going to buy that, not on his most run-down obsolescent day.

But instead of answering right away, he lets it sit for a second in silence, folding his arms.

"If you're not up to talking, I can come back later."

He offers up the out without moving, just yet.

[warborn]

Truth be told, Fortress Maximus wasn't sure how good a guard he'd be, but like hell he'd admit those kind of doubts to a Decepticon. He was a(n ex-)warden. He could sure as slag act like one again, for a little while at least.

So here he is. Keeping guard over what's certainly as frustrating as a glitchmouse at times, so the nickname suits her pretty damn well.

He keeps his optics on her, yeah, but from time to time he's just got his helm leaned back against the forehead, relying on his audio more than his visual sensors to cue him if there's any change.

As you're leaving, presuming you leave at some point if not let me know

[sword_redemption]

Drift is doing a wonderfully awful impression of the 'impatient relative pacing like a caged animal in the hospital waiting room'. Impatient to see Vandal, but also, when he head Soundwave's voice, needing to talk to the other mech.

When if Soundwave steps out, he murmurs, "...hey." Not the most articulate conversation starter, but he doesn't want to set the wrong tone.

[inferiordude]

In truth, he cannot stay forever to keep an optic on her. He needs to take his work with him, at this point. Still, he leaves some medical data for the medics on human biology; maybe it's something good to start with.

So, he finishes his download, sees to it that Vandal rests, and takes his leave.

Well. Starts to.

Soundwave stops outside the door, peering at Drift.

"Hey yourself." Anger won't help, but that's what he's feeling. So he sets his tone to be indifferent.

He isn't sure how long that will last.

[winged_knight]

Wing had made a valiant effort to search of a medic but in the end it hadn't be necessary, for which he was actually quite grateful. But if did mean that he was not present when his friend was brought into medibay.

So now he creeps in like a giant white mouse, peering around the door frame and into the room to see if Vandal's awake, fearing that he might wake her if she is not. Wing thinks he's being quiet--and really, for a robot nearly 18 foot tall he is--but it's still enough to catch the attention of any wary individual.

[sword_redemption]

Well, this is off to a...wary start. And he's already committed to taking Soundwave's attention, he might as well plunge on ahead, into the probably rocky shores of uncomfortable but honest.

He sucks in a deep vent of air, shifting on his feet, and then just blurts. Because he wants to say it all, to get the words out and what happens then is up to Soundwave, but at least he'd have heard.

"Look. I'm. Vandal. Last time, I was stupid. I was thinking of myself and not about what mattered. Which wasn't me. And." He's overcome by the awareness of just how bad he is at this. "I'm sorry."

let's hope Ratchet didn't prescribe rest bc Vandal isn't getting any with all these visitors

[sword_redemption]

Drift knows that Medibay is boring. BORING. Like, mindcrushingly boring. He stayed away for a while, so that Vandal could heal, but sooner or later his own anxiety pushed him to the door, with the flimsy excuse he could entertain her, at any rate.

And then stops him, as he watches her asleep on the berth. Which is probably creepy.

[inferiordude]

There's a pause.

Then Soundwave is reaching out to grab onto Drift's shoulders, to shove him up against a wall. His faceplate splits, showing just how angry he is. A glow of a visor isn't enough; he wants to show it.

"I told you so you could help! Because you're her friend. Because she wouldn't tell anyone, not even me! You're the one she begged for, Drift, when it got like this. I hope it finally sunk in, y'smeltin' idiot, because look at it now!"

There's a heavy exhale from the morale officer. "All you could do was feel bad for yourself, and you're apologizing to me. But it ain't me you owe an apology to. Is it?"

[sword_redemption]

...what can he say? He certainly can't defend himself. He has no defense. Every word Soundwave said was true.

He lets himself be pushed back, jammed against the wall, forcing himself against reflex, keeping his hands off his swords. No, he deserved this. And worse. The jarring of his shoulders against the wall was nothing compared to what Vandal had suffered.

" _{I know.} And I probably don't deserve her trust." His optics blink, rapidly. But then he shakes his head. "But I do owe you an apology. As well. Because I hurt you, too. And if maybe I hadn't been such a fool, and listened, you wouldn't have to be here, either." He's not sure it's coming out right, but he's trying.

[vandalization]

She pauses, as he reaches out, and slowly, reaching out to touch one of his fingers, palm exploring the metal curiously.

It takes a moment to recall what he's talking about, but her stomach sinks.

"Yeah. This time. But that deal is still on, okay? I know you're good for it."

She trusts that this guy won't get second thoughts or get squeamish. He seemed to understand where she was coming from in that respect, and he looks like someone who could make it quick.

[vandalization]

"No I-" She'd actually prefer not to be alone, even if Soundwave is just a stone's throw away, and Ratchet has been in and out checking on her. She felt bad for Ratchet. He knew he was helpless to do much for her. He knew little of humans to begin with, and he was a medical doctor on top of that, not a psychologist.

The best they could do is make her comfortable, but it's more than she could have asked for.

"What do you want to talk about?" She owes this much to him, after the trouble he went through. She saw him working. She considers them friends, even if she's not sure where he stands.

Friends for him, too maybe.

In her imagination, she'd like that to be truth.