Tiny Little Robots [Open]

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

Wyn is Not Happy. Her best-friend-from-the-future is onboard the ship, which is nice, but something clearly goes horribly, horribly awry. Since he won't tell her what's wrong (thanks, Caden!), she's got to do something to take her mind off her questions. The little scout robot idea she's had bouncing around her head sounds like a good plan, but she doesn't quite have the parts she thought she would (thanks, Julian!). So basically, Wyn is glaring staring at her notebook, twirling what looks like an eyeliner pencil between her fingers and trying to come up with a workaround that doesn't involve ridiculous amounts of magic.

... well, she might not have much of a choice on the magic thing, but she'd prefer to avoid writing with her eyeliner if at all possible. She's got priorities.

Comments

[staturity]

Cassie didn't have any clear idea of what she wanted to do. Usually she just looked at things and maybe even tried fiddling around with something when she was feel adventurous.

"Hi." Cassie said when she saw Wyn, mostly as a way of letting her know she had entered.

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

Okay, Wyn was definitely not expecting visitors. "Hi!" she says, concentration broken. "Are you looking for something?"

[staturity]

Cassie shrugged. "Not really. I just like hanging out down here. I'd try making something but I'd probably just get myself fried so I mostly just look around."

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I suppose this is one of the less-creepy places onboard. ... well, maybe. Depends on your definition of 'less-creepy'." Wyn says absently, scrawling something in her notebook.

[staturity]

Wyn was right. Cassie found a section of the ship dedicated to weapons not as creepy as other areas of the ship. She wondered what that said about her.

"What are you working on?"

[i-am-that-jerk.livejournal.com]

Like slag was Sentinel's pursuit of justice going to be stopped just by the fact that he didn't have any ranged weaponry. He skidded to a halt in front of the so-called special weapons division, then stomped in. He spotted a vaguely familiar fleshling (they all more or less looked alike) and wracked his memory.

"Organic-Wyn! I am in need of armament!"

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"Um. Hi, Sentinel Prime." Wyn says, slightly startled by the arrival of one of the only robots she'd met onboard. (She knew there were more, but she'd only seen B5 and Sentinel Prime.) "... did you try the Precinct? I think that's really where they're keeping the actual weaponry."

[i-am-that-jerk.livejournal.com]

"Don't you think I know that?" Sentinel snaps in reply. "I need new weaponry, specially fitted to me. There's a dangerous Cybertronian fugitive on board, and his flight capabilities make it... difficult for me to arrest him."

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"... right." Wyn raises an eyebrow. "Which dangerous flying fugitive robot is this, again? I haven't noticed any lately." She was also a bit busy at the moment, what with the planning and the scrawling in her notebook and the complete avoidance of anything to do with giving Sentinel Prime a weapon.

[i-am-that-jerk.livejournal.com]

"He's trying to disguise his name, but his designation is 'Wasp'. Green and yellow, around your size. Disgusting organic-scanned alt-mode." Sentinel cringes.

"He's the one I was in pursuit of when I first got here."

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

"Hello?" Roxie says as she shuffles in, hands in two of the many, many pockets of the overlarge denim jacket she wears over her plant-suit. "Someone wanted scissors..."

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"Yes? Hi, that was me." Wyn says, looking up from her notebook and waving cheerfully.

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

Roxie nods, shuffling over closer to Wyn. She moves with soft and small steps like a housecat. "They might be too big, but I'l leave that to you to decide." One hand slides out from its pocket to reach inside her jacket, and she pulls out oversized black-handled scissors like fabric shears, with gleaming silver blades that look very sharp-edged indeed.

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"You, ah, mentioned them not liking people. What does that mean, exactly?" Wyn asks, giving the scissors a skeptical look. What she really means by this is 'are they likely to eat my face and/or do something horrific and irreversible', but she'll leave it at that for now.

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

"The previous owner--not human--used them for unpleasant things." Roxie makes a cautious snip-snip motion at the air with the scissors. "They picked up some of it. I've been working on rehabilitation, but it hasn't gone totally smoothly."

For a moment, the scissors' silvery blades instead gleam an ivory white.

[deadpan-shifter.livejournal.com]

Caden isn't a complete dolt; he can tell when he's upset someone, especially when 'someone' is his best friend. He knows that his refusal to explain the catastrophe looming in her future has pushed far too many buttons in Wyn's worry-worry-worrying little head. Mostly because he remembers the few quiet, sad conversations they had in college about the possibility of her becoming a completely mad mad-scientist, taking-over-the-world drive and all, and Caden knows that Wyn's smart enough to figure things out on her own. The odds that she's aware of what he's refusing to tell her are pretty high.

After spending a good long while sitting around thinking, Caden sighs and pulls himself inwards. Anyone watching would notice his rapid shrinking, and the fact that he has spontaneously sprouted quite a bit of red-brown fur. Having known Wyn for a good eight years, he's fully aware of her fondness for pine martens...

Following her scent, Caden slips into the Special Weapons room, eyes sliding around before he trots over to her and jumps into her lap. He makes an odd little whining noise, pressing his pointy nose into her stomach, ears flattening slightly, this being Cadenmartenese for "I'm sorry..."

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

Wyn, while not entirely fluent in Cadenmartenese due to being a bit behind her best friend timeline-wise, is smart enough to pick up on the apology coming from the pine marten in her lap. (Admittedly, this is mostly because of Caden's current pine marten status. It's not one of his favorite forms, but he knows that Wyn loves the tiny fluffy rodent so she can guess at what he's trying to do.) "Hey, Fluffy." she says with a tiny smile, ruffling Cadenmarten's ears affectionately.

[deadpan-shifter.livejournal.com]

Caden sits, removing his nose from her stomach in favor of looking up at her, head tilted slightly. There really isn't much he can say at present, a) because he's currently an animal without much means of speech and b) because he's never been good at apologizing or making people feel better. He simply sits still, letting her pat him, making sure that she continues to smile. His fluffy, fluffy tail twitches slightly, and he curls up, turning to stare at the hand holding her eyeliner. He wants to ask what she's trying to do, but the communication issue presents itself again, so he settles for another quiet gruffle and a nudge at her wrist with his nose.

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"Eat my eyeliner and I will have a nice furry hat to wear on the unpleasantly warm and humid meatship. Got it?" Wyn says brightly. "Also, when you are back to your humanoid shape, don't try to write with the eyeliner I know you have onboard with you. It doesn't work."

[deadpan-shifter.livejournal.com]

Caden grunts, nudging her wrist again, fighting the very strong urge to go humanoid and protest the claims to his use of eyeliner. He refrains because he knows she won't believe him, and also he's trying to make her feel better, which means staying fuzzy until that smile is a little stronger. He just wants to know what she's doing...

[antitachyonic.livejournal.com]

Eventually John manages to find his way to special weapons, and who he assumes is Wyn, considering she's staring at a notebook. "Hey, you wanted a pen right?" He has one!

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"Oh my god, you're the guy with the pen." Wyn says, glancing up from her (slightly smudged) work and grinning excitedly. "You have possibly just saved my life, person-whose-name-I-don't-know."

[antitachyonic.livejournal.com]

Holy shit this woman is hyper. John doesn't lean back or anything, but he does smirk a little. "John, my name is John. What are you doing anyway," he asks, handing her the pen.

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

... she just really wanted a pen. "I'm Wyn, and, um, I'm trying to sketch out an array. It's just hard to do when everything smudges and you can't read what you've written anyway because your handwriting's shite." she says while scribbling on the paper in quick swirls.

[antitachyonic.livejournal.com]

Yeah, huh. Very excited over a pen, but then again they're all wearing suits made out of lettuce so John can't say too much.

"Nice to meet you, Wyn. What kind of array?"