Nexus. Over on the 'edge of town'. Fallen

[random_xtras]

Blackout comes online slowly and blinks up at the ceiling/sky, her senses screaming so loudly with pain that she's deaf to anything else. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, but then she recalls picking a fight with the femme Prime and winces.

-Note to self. Don't try to slag things you can't even touch.-

She turns her head with an effort, and is a little surprised to see a few pieces of her shell laying a short distance away from her. Then she notice the puddle that she's laying in and stares at it with morbid fascination.

-I'm slagging bleeding to death.-

She should be upset about that... right? Or someone should be.... She can't remember who, though.

-Tired. That's not good.-

The black femme tries to push herself up, only to discover to her utter shock that one of the bits of her that's laying over there is the arm that she needs to be able to sit up.

She blinks and tries to think of a solution to the problem, but then her head drops back to the beaten and soaked ground.

-Doesn't hurt anymore... not good.-

Her optics shutter.

Comments

[random_xtras]

-She promised that she vouldn't leave him, but now she thinks she vill.- She reaches down to her belt and pulls out a stick of pepperoni, which she absently offers to Ro-tor.

[namedbyothers.livejournal.com]

The pepperoni is snatched and devoured, not so much because Ro-tor likes it (he's determined not to like any of this) as because it'll stave off the embarrassing sounds his body makes.

//Not if they both go together,// Movor points out via radio.

[random_xtras]

-True. But I think that thought vould make her processor snap.- She tunes into Megatron's thoughts, blocking Movor out of her own.

[namedbyothers.livejournal.com]

Movor gives a snort and eyes Blackout while his partner munches away.

Megatron has almost finished considering what Mega-Octane's told him. He... doesn't seem to be all that concerned.

[random_xtras]

She flicks one ear back and forth thoughtfully, then points it at Movor. -Und how vould you feel about the thought of Ro-tor being dead?-

[namedbyothers.livejournal.com]

He stiffens, imperceptibly unless you are both very sensitive to these things and happen to be, say, standing on his shoulder. And there's a whole slew of small responses he doesn't allow to become full-formed thoughts - a momentary echo of Cureall's voice, why the slag do people keep asking me that - the overwhelming thought of irrelevant.

He doesn't know how to shut her out, but he does stare coolly at the damaged Decepticon while his thoughts snap into line, dismissing the thought and focusing on the task he's supposed to be doing.