ximilialog | Fond are my feelings, yet unfeeling I feign

Entry tags:

Fond are my feelings, yet unfeeling I feign » Open

CHARACTERS: Megatron, anyone else
LOCATION: The Station
DATE: Feb 13th onward.
CONTENT: MEgatron hangs out on the station.
WARNINGS: N/a

Infirmary

In the hectic couple of days after the return from the mission, Megatron quite literally does not sleep. Being a cybernetic lifeform has it's benefits, apparently! And one of them is being able to power through without rest when the need arises. He practically never leaves the infirmary, considering that the most skilled doctor among the group is among the injured requiring treatment, rest, and recuperation. In the first few days, he's here whether in holoform or his actual body, changing IVs, checking vitals, and doing rounds to make sure everyone is as comfortable as can be.

He'll also heckle anyone who passes near the Infirmary about making sure they have enough to eat now that they're back aboard and have access to proper nutrition again. Basically he's being aggravating and doing his best to take care of everyone and running himself ragged to do it, especially while Bones and Marta are still recovering.

Maybe someone should tell him to take it easy?

Common Area

Once things have calmed down and he's gotten some rest, Megatron resumes his usual place in the common area, usually reading something or other and keeping quietly to himself. Some days it's a medical text and others it's more culturally relevant information, which is the case today. He's scrolling through a datapad, a look of intense concentration on his face as he studies... something. If someone gets close enough to disturb him or even ask him what he's looking over, he gives a faint sound of discomfort--who the hell is bothering him now? But he raises the datapad.

"...I'm reading up on Terran poetry. I have little else to do and thought it might give some insight into your mindset." He pauses.

"I'm not sure that it has."

( I will happily match pose format, and if you have a more specific starter or situation you'd like, feel free to poke at me for it or just wildcard your heart out. )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Athrun glances from Megatron to the datapad, parsing out the unfamiliar term for a moment before smiling somewhat sheepishly. "Poetry can be obtuse at times. I think that's just how humans are. Anyone in particular catch your interest?"

Roger waits to make his visit to the infirmary until after the organics have mostly recovered from whatever injuries or ailments they may have suffered during the mission. After all, he made it through the mission more or less completely physically unharmed, having spent half of it fully inactive and the other working very hard to stay out of danger. He is certain the pain he is experiencing is not physical, as it was caused by a drone that was not even a part of his body being hit by pulsefire, and not in vital need of being dealt with. However, his arm and his eye continue to ache, so he eventually seeks out some kind of help.

When he does, he specifically seeks out Megatron. He hasn't gone out of his way to speak to him since seeing the memory of Megatron's past self. Normally, he performs his own repairs and does not find a need for medical assistance. However, over this, he goes into the infirmary, wearing the long brown coat that was given to him for the most recent mission. Somewhat sheepishly, he approaches the Cybertronian.

"Megatron?"

Megatron taps the tablet.

"Mm. At the moment I'm looking at one by a poet named Du Mu. Let me read..." He clears his throat with a burst of mechanical static.

"Fond are my feelings, yet unfeeling I feign,
Before our wine-cups, we merry-make in vain.
So heartful, the candle, our parting it grieves,
And in tears it melts, till the sky lights again."

It has been a time since Megatron last spoke with Roger, considering the reaction the smaller mechanoid had to Megatron's previous life. Megatron is bent over some work and looks up as he hears his voice.

"Yes?" He tilts his head. "Roger. How can I help?"

A benefit of playing host to Venom: Gwen was fully healed before twenty-four hours were up. The worst of it, a pulsefire burn on her calf, took longest, but after a few hours it had the look of a mild sunburn, and then it was gone as if it never happened.

Others don't have the same luck, including a few of her friends. It is these she was visiting and she is on the way out when she is stopped. In a t-shirt and jeans, she might be difficult to place. Her Spider-Woman hoodie, however, is unmistakable. She brightens when she recognizes Megatron.

"Oh, hey! How are you?"

Belatedly, she wonders if Cybertronians can also end up in this infirmary.

The situation is complicated to try to explain, but he tries to do so in a way that is quick but will still give Megatron a clear understanding of what happened. "I made a drone out of my arm and my eye, but I kept it connected to me. Then the drone got destroyed by pulsefire, and now my arm and eye still hurt."

"I can't figure out how to fix it. I wanted to see if you could."

Jim might not be the best person to tell Megatron to take it easy. He hasn't left the infirmary yet, his time divided between hovering next to Bones's bed and running around the infirmary helping out where he can, if only to distract himself from Bones's current physical state. Alas he is only human, so sometimes he can't help when exhaustion takes over him, and he ends up sitting in a chair next to Bones's side, holding his hand while slumped over the side of the bed, as though he just passed out there rather than actually fell asleep. It's not the best rest he's had, but he can't stand being in their room on his own right now, so that'll have to do.

It doesn't slip his notice that Megatron is running himself ragged, though. He realizes the Cybertronian might not need as much rest as an organic, but that's still not going to stop him from worrying, and he approaches him at some point when things are relatively quiet, a hand resting lightly on his forearm. "Hey. Have you sat down at all since we got back?"

Megatron looks up from the chart he's examining. He focuses on Gwen for a moment, trying to place her face. The voice is familiar! Ah, yes. The last time he saw her he was much, much larger. He nods.

"I'm recovering. Mostly. I've been focused on making sure all of our injured are properly taken care of since our return."

"I see." Megatron is already jotting down notes as he listens, pulls a hand-scanner from his medical kit.

"When you say it was connected to you, you mean through a wireless signal or radio signal? Which eye was it?" He runs the scanner around Roger's head, frowns slightly at the read out.

He points to his right eye, using the affected arm, which is his orange and now partially silver left arm.

"Radio. I have transmitters all around my body so I can control parts even when they aren't attached." As a demonstration, he detaches his left arm with his right and continues to move it as if it were part of his body, then is easily able to reattach it, though he moves the coat to do so.

Megatron is busily restocking a few disposable things in a medical cabinet when Jim lays a hand against his forearm. There's a brief, stiff tension to his frame and then his head swivels to peer down at Kirk. He frowns, just a little.

"...I'm fine. As one of the only medical personnel on my feet, I need to make sure that all of us are back in good shape. Especially Doctor McCoy." He knows he's working himself to the metaphorical bone at the moment, especially since it wasn't like he had much chance for rest on their little excursion. Still, he has a sense of duty and care towards the injured and he can't let himself slack off just yet.

"Any other abnormal reactions? Is anything malfunctioning or is it just the pain?" Megatron asks, continuing his scan for any abnormalities or strangeness going on inside Roger.

"These are replacement components, I assume? Completely new?"

For a moment, Jim nearly argues that he won't be one of the only medical personnel on his feet if he just falls over from exhaustion, but he stops himself. The truth is, he has no idea where Megatron's limits lie, when he's not even an organic, Human even less so, so he has no frame of reference to speak of.

Lowering his hand, he lets out a quiet sigh, then nods. "Alright. Then let me help you. What can I do?"

"Nothing else seems wrong." The scans should corroborate his statement. There are no physical problems he is experiencing, the only issues are of software.

"I replaced both my optical sensors and my arm with tech from the station. Only the right eye hurts."

Gwen frowns. "Were you hurt in the fight?"

He was so huge then—and she is curious about his apparent size manipulation. Some of those bandits, though— She had her run-in with one with a speed and agility to match her, and had to throw down with a hulking beast of an alien. Megatron, because of his size, would had an equally sized target painted on him.

Lan Xichen does not spend too much time in the common area, preferring reading in the sunlight room or with a cup of tea in the kitchens, but it's not entirely impossible to see him walking into the shared space with a book tucked under his arm.

Today, it's two books. One the novel he wishes to read another a dictionary to explain the concepts he is not yet familiar with. Luckily with time on the station, those are growing fewer and fewer.

While he is naturally curious, back home he would not have asked another when they are so engrossed in reading. Here, he bridges that gap and offers an amused smile at the response.

"Poetry often reflects the mindset of an author and their time. What are you reading?" There is some chance he knows it.

Athrun listens, trying to recall if those words line up with a poem he might have heard before, but it strikes no familiar chords. He hasn't read much poetry in recent years, admittedly, so whatever he learned in school is distant at best. He shakes his head. "I've not heard it, but it's fitting. When times are rough it's not unusual for humans to feel one thing and say another."

What can I do? Jim asks and for a moment Megatron bites back the urge to tell him to go get some rest and stop fretting over McCoy, but he knows that's not likely to happen. Instead, he points to a tray of packaged emergency bandages, syringes, and other medical paraphernalia.

"That needs to be sorted into it's proper place in this cabinet," he says indicating the one next to the one he's working in.

"If you would be so kind."

"I would say that it's purely psychosomatic but... hm." Megatron frowns as his scans turn up nothing.

"The pulsefire and the way it burns only through living things is... strange. I'm not sure whether that's part of why you're experiencing this pain. What happens if you remove the limb? May we do so?"

"No. No, I wasn't injured. Thank you for the concern." He glances downwards towards his feet where a splash of alien gore has yet to be completely removed. Left there when he had smashed into Drift's attackers.

"It's just been a long few days. Doctor McCoy was injured, as was the new arrival, Marta. Both medical professionals and I've been trying to fill in the gap while they rest and mend."

Well. That sure is, uh. Proof of someone.

Distractedly, Gwen says, "I know about Dr. McCoy. He's one I came by to see."

No, she can't ignore it. She points delicately at his feet.

"You should probably clean that. I don't think that qualifies as hygienic. Especially here."

"Sure." He takes off part of the coat so Megatron can easily detach the arm. If he tries, Megatron will find it easy to do so, as Roger very frequently detaches and reattaches limbs.

"It feels the same, whether it's attached or seperated. That's normal, it doesn't usually affect how it feels."

"It's a collection poetry by various humans. This is one named Su Shi," Megatron says with a tilt of his head. Then he clears his throat and reads the poem aloud.

"A mountain range in panorama becomes a peak from the side,
Far, near, high and low, with no two alike.
I do not know the true face of Lushan Mountain;
Only because I myself am in the mountain," Megatron concludes.

"An interesting piece. A commentary on how the point of view changes things, at least on the surface level reading. Though perhaps there's something to be said for how this relates to the ability to understand others at all. Or to understand one's self."

"Ah, Su Shi is well-known where I am from." He says softly, nodding before listening to the poem that the other has chosen to read.

"Interesting indeed," he nods again, thinking of the other times he's heard this open and how it still resonates. "I agree that there's more beneath the surface. We can only truly know our own perspective whole-heartedly and that is a limitation to acknowledge, especially when dealing with conflict or trying to understand others.

I could have used this reminder back in Scorpion's Bend." He admits, offering a wry smile.

"Not uncommon for Cybertronians, either," Megatron says with a soft, weary sounding sigh.

"The attempt to play at being happy and unbothered in the face of tragedy seems familiar to me as well, even in the face of oblivion and disaster."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 5

Fond are my feelings, yet unfeeling I feign » Open

common area - any day but the 14th

infirmary

Re: common area - any day but the 14th

Re: infirmary

no subject

no subject

infirmary

no subject

no subject

no subject

Re: infirmary

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

common area

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Re: common area

no subject

no subject