closed

[sparkwhisperer]

Who: Tarn and Meh Yewll
When: May 22nd
Where: The Medbay
What: Tarn wakes up in the medibay after being defeated by Megatron
Warnings: mentions of past tense violence and torture. irritability. loud voices.


[To say that Tarn was disappointed to find himself in the medbay, after his short-lived rampage within the depths of Amissis-Re, would perhaps be an understatement. When he first is able to regain consciousness he’s met with a barrage of errors and overheating warnings pinging up rapidly on his HUD. But before long it appears that everything has been put back in working order and overheated and melted internal components have been replaced. All that remains are a few rather crudely figured patch jobs on his outer plating where Megatron managed to really make his mark.]

[He tries to remember what happened. How had he failed so specularly that he managed to land himself unconscious in a medbay for who knows how long? The last thing he remembers was pulling Megatron close to deliver a killing blow with his vocalizer— a quiet whisper to really whittle the life from his bright spark.

Then he was shoved.

He remembers a bright flash of light and excruciating pain, and then nothing. Perhaps being shoved bodily into a conduit feeding electricity into something as highly powered as an Ingress would have that effect on someone. ]

[He’s healing quickly but it does little to improve his mood. He’s nursing a terrible hangover from the sheer quantity of Nuke that he had consumed back aboard his ship. Fortunately for everyone aboard the Moira, by now its effects have surely been flushed out of his system. All that remains is a slightly irritable edge.]


I’m still alive, am I? How disappointing. Although i must admit that I’m not surprised after Megatron’s recent inability to deliver without out begging off at the last minute.

Comments

[imaginary_wife]

[The area the Cybertronian took up is massive, and Doc Yewll has been having to do laps to slowly check every joint, ever nick in his armor, each digit of a massive hand to make sure he's intact. In fact, she's testing the function of each finger one at a time when Tarn opens his mouth.]

And a bright and sunny afternoon to you, too. [She says dryly.] If it wasn't him, it would have been someone else. Hold your hand out, palm up, and make a slow fist.

[She pats his forearm loudly to spur him along. Chop chop. Come on. Let's get to it.]