Karrie (Vandal) Norton (
vandalization) wrote in
re_alignment_logs2012-07-21 07:07 pm
Ave Maria [OPEN]
WHO: Karrie (VANDAL) and YOU!
WHERE: The Medbay; Solus Temple.
WHEN Sunday morning
WHAT: Vandal, awake and having broken her fever, is no longer in immediate danger of dying, so she decides to keep her hands busy.
WARNINGS: ... She's got a foul mouth when she's upset, but otherwise she's pretty tame. Also slight disturbing imagery.
Waking up in a hospital that's built for creatures far larger than yourself is jarring in and of it's own right. And Karrie is entirely impressed that she is waking up at all. Maybe this isn't a dream? She feels clear headed enough. And the pain tells her that she's very awake.
Can you have dreams inside of dreams? The desert... the white
She shakes her head, sliding off the small "bed" that had been made for her and fetching her Rig which was neatly laid out nearby. The wound at her side had been stitched. She could still feel broken ribs, though. Those would take time to heal, but this place is far too strange. Surreal... to be left unexplored. At least there's no necromorphs scuttling after her here. Not that she'd seen, anyways.
Nobody around. No robots. But signs of them. She slips out into open air outside, finishing gingerly putting her rig and helmet on. She may be safe now, but who the hell knows what's out here?
She won't stray far, rather balking at the idea of earning Ratchet's ire. Instead she wanders just as far as the edge of the junk pile, poking around for a while. Thinking.
She has to think. Despite not knowing what to even do with herself. She needs a focus. Needs to ask questions.
She begins gathering a few things here and there, and after about thirty minutes she's back in the med bay with a small bag full of what appears to be useless parts. Dumping them on the floor and sitting down like a kid with some brand new legos.
In an hour, the junk she'd picked up has been assembled into two box-like devices and set up on platforms at either corner of the room. And she's fiddling now with a smaller something- like TV remote, the holo-screen of her RIG floating in front of her, and the tools from her belt storage spread out around her amongst the left over, but neatly-sorted scraps of wire, batteries and little bits of tape that she'd scrounged up.
WHERE: The Medbay; Solus Temple.
WHEN Sunday morning
WHAT: Vandal, awake and having broken her fever, is no longer in immediate danger of dying, so she decides to keep her hands busy.
WARNINGS: ... She's got a foul mouth when she's upset, but otherwise she's pretty tame. Also slight disturbing imagery.
DO YOU SWEAR TO FOLLOW THE TEACHINGS OF UNITOLOGY?
I DO.
DO YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ALTMAN FOR HIS SERVICES TO OUR CAUSE, AS OUR SHEPHERD INTO THE PATH OF ASCENSION?
I DO
WELCOME TO THE CHURCH, MISS NORTON, WE ARE HONORED TO HAVE YOU AMONGST OUR GATHERING, PRAISE BE TO ALTMAN FOR DELIVERING YOU UNTO OUR CHURCH. MAY THE MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER BLESS YOU, KARRIE NOW AND F O R E V . . .
Waking up in a hospital that's built for creatures far larger than yourself is jarring in and of it's own right. And Karrie is entirely impressed that she is waking up at all. Maybe this isn't a dream? She feels clear headed enough. And the pain tells her that she's very awake.
She shakes her head, sliding off the small "bed" that had been made for her and fetching her Rig which was neatly laid out nearby. The wound at her side had been stitched. She could still feel broken ribs, though. Those would take time to heal, but this place is far too strange. Surreal... to be left unexplored. At least there's no necromorphs scuttling after her here. Not that she'd seen, anyways.
Nobody around. No robots. But signs of them. She slips out into open air outside, finishing gingerly putting her rig and helmet on. She may be safe now, but who the hell knows what's out here?
She won't stray far, rather balking at the idea of earning Ratchet's ire. Instead she wanders just as far as the edge of the junk pile, poking around for a while. Thinking.
She has to think. Despite not knowing what to even do with herself. She needs a focus. Needs to ask questions.
She begins gathering a few things here and there, and after about thirty minutes she's back in the med bay with a small bag full of what appears to be useless parts. Dumping them on the floor and sitting down like a kid with some brand new legos.
In an hour, the junk she'd picked up has been assembled into two box-like devices and set up on platforms at either corner of the room. And she's fiddling now with a smaller something- like TV remote, the holo-screen of her RIG floating in front of her, and the tools from her belt storage spread out around her amongst the left over, but neatly-sorted scraps of wire, batteries and little bits of tape that she'd scrounged up.

no subject
She exhales something that sounds like it could be a laugh, running a gloved finger along the bandage on her cheek for lack of anything to do with her hands.
"For some people. It varies. Some people are really into art. I like music, but it's mostly for the noise."
no subject
"It's just... what we do. It saves energy."
And it's around then he realized he was being somewhat awkward. It's been a long time since he had interacted with anything but other medics or his patients, and interacting with a human was a first on top of that. What if he's doing this all wrong? He looks down at his lap, trembling slightly in nervousness.
"I like to read!" he supplies helpfully.
no subject
It's kind of hard not to hear a robot tremble. It's a soft metal shuffling noise. She cocks her head slowly, leaning over to peer up at him.
"I like reading too. What kind of stuff do you read?"
God he's kind of cute. How is a giant robot cute?
She ventures to pat his leg because that's what she can reach.
no subject
Vandal's touch is feathery light on his plating. First Aid turns his head back towards her, looking over at her. It feels weird-- different. Not like the hard brush of another cybertronian hand. Her touch was much more gentle, fragile.
And luckily for her, First Aid is a very touch friendly mech. He lifts a hand, then bumps his fingers against an arm. Hello, would you hold my hand?
"There a group of Autobots called the Wreckers. They're pretty much who you send in when there's no one else that can get things done. I like to read stories about their battles."
no subject
She resists the urge to investigate, but not the urge to smile.
"They sound like a bunch of badasses," she chuckles, "Tell me more?"
Because asking First Aid to tell you about the Wreckers is clearly going to not be a short conversation.
no subject
"Let me tell you about Pova."
Just his tone of voice says it all about this particular story. He pauses, optics widen slightly. He rearranges himself, folding is legs as well as he can mange.
"If it would make you comfortable, you can sit on me."
no subject
"Really?" Like she's going to waste any time with that invitation. She turns, gingerly climbing up, minding her injuries. She uses his hand as leverage to sit herself on his legs, leaning back against the warm, humming chassis.
This is definitely like something she'd dreamed up as a kid.
"Alright. Tell me about Pova."
no subject
"First, let me give you a bit of background. The Wreckers were lead by Impactor. He has a harpoon for a hand and they say he once took down a whole Decepticon ship with both arms cuffed behind his back. The way the Wreckers work is that you don't know when it's your time to become one. Just you get your name on the list and then one day, Impactor came for you. It's very..."
He sighs.
"Exciting."
no subject
"Sounds like a real badass," She comments on Impactor, a small chuckle escaping as he seems so... wistful about it.
Somebody must be a bit of a fan.
Seems like she's in good, nerdy company then.
no subject
But still, he makes a low verbal noise of satisfaction.
"Oh, yes. Impactor is very heroic. At his side was always Springer. They have this mutual affection. They've been together for ages since Impactor once saved his life."
He apparently found this very, very cool.
"So Pova. Opposite of the Wreckers, the Decepticons had the evil Squadron X. Squadron X did all kinds of unspeakable things and Impactor was obsessed with hunting them down. They finally cornered them on Pova in the Redan Quadrant. While an aerial battle had the flying Wreckers occupied, Impactor and Springer were pinned down in the trenches below. Springer had been pinned by a collapsing barricade and knowing Impactor wouldn't abandon his first officer, Squadron X was moving in for the kill."
no subject
The whole business wasn't a huge deal back home, either though.
More amusing than anything else.
Actually, she's more interested in the feeling of sitting against a living machine. Feeling engines and systems working, turning her ear to his chest, she can hear the gentle pulse of something within.
Half listening to him talk, half listening to his systems.
no subject
As many people who had subscribed to Wreckers: Unclassified, he hadn't really run into many other fans. Not that Vandal was a fan, just that he assumed she was interested and that was more than he usually got.
His Spark practically flutters.
"It seemed like this was going to be it, but then Springer proposed a crazy idea. He asked Impactor to shoot through his midsection. Impactor protested, but realized that this might be their only chance. He reluctantly agreed and pressed the barrel to Springer's back. Springer shouted, 'Wreck and rule!' as he was blasted through, hitting Squadron X and affording them the few extra seconds needed for Roadbuster and and Rack 'n' Ruin to arrive and turn the battle to their favor."
no subject
For what it's worth, she is interested, she listens as long as she can.
It's just... nice. Slumping down on his lap. It's not the most comfortable, but she's fallen asleep working before, and this isn't so different.
no subject
"The Wreckers arrested Squadron X and began tending to Springer's wound. It was all thanks to his sacrifice that Impactor was able to save them both. It seemed, finally, that this was the end of them, but celebrations were a bit preemptive. Somehow, they broke free! Impactor decided that this was their final stand and marched--"
The medic glances down at the human in his lap then, voice trailing off. It's around now that he realizes just how sleepy she really was.
"Mmm." He'll finish the story another time, then.