Tag: An inspection

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

Gravescratch’s antennae twitch faster at the contact, then settle, and he leans his helm gently into Bruin’s touches. Mm. That’s nice, and Bruin stopped touching him when he tensed up, which is an excellent sign. Large and powerful as he may be, this mech seems friendly enough, and Gravescratch considers himself to be a good judge of character, so… does he want to go? 

More specifically, does he want to go back to a ship that probably doesn’t have anything on it that will eat him, but does have people who are gentle and calm and want to pet and interface with him?

Pit yes. 

Rumbling softly, he steps closer and lowers all four servos to pet seams in Bruin’s stomach and sides, leaning in to nuzzle that tempting crest again. “Absolutely. I would love for this to continue.” he purrs, then leans back a fraction, meeting Bruin’s optics. “But, and forgive my bluntness, you will not be spiking me. I am open to discussion, particularly as to whether they” a quick glance over at the cyber-wolves, “would be interested, but you spiking me is off the table because I rather like being able to walk.” he comments, one servo straying down to rub a spot on Bruin’s stomach riight above his codpiece. 

He’s a bit reluctant to back off. The contact is nice, he’s still curious, and, quite frankly, he’s rather hoping to be picked up and wrapped around Bruin’s shoulders. It would probably be comfortable, and he quite likes the idea of being picked up and carried to someone’s berth. So he stays right up close, prurring softly and petting seams, and debates whether or not he wants to mention that particular desire. 

Friendly might be an understatement now, but Bruins base coding had  always been to protect. A private bodyguard before the war, others always got put ahead of himself. 

Bruin’s internal temperature is already beginning to tick upwards with four roaming servos at work. Thankfully he dulled the sensors in his crest after last time, at least for now, not wanting a full systems reset, but it will still garner a rumble and the crest itself twitching.

“If that tongue is as magical as it looks, then I don’t mind in the least. They will have to speak for themselves however-” and he’s going to get cut off by that straying servo and a choked growl will come out instead.  

Gravescratch doesn’t seem like he’ll be inclined to release him any time soon, so Bruin is just going to expedite things now that he has confirmed interest in returning to the ship. With an APC alt mode, he is meant to be able to haul heavy loads on top of supporting his armor so his frame is more than reinforced enough to carry one light dog mech and drag an empty frame.

The servo on his chest is going to reach around under Gravescratch’s legs and lift as he stands up. He’ll snag the dead mech on his way past, heading to the ground bridge Spotter just opened.

While Bruin’s judgement may sometimes be questionable, none of the pack are going to step in this time. Quite frankly, Bruin is enjoying himself and they would take no happiness from interrupting. And they don’t feel this one lone bot is threat to all of them.

Gravescratch hums out a little “mrrrr<3″ noise as he’s picked up, happily draping himself across Bruin’s shoulder, and almost immediately gets distracted by the big mech’s back armor. 

Fans running softly, he runs three servos down over all the thick armor, mapping it out, then grins (really, opens his mouth slightly, perks his antennae, and lets his tonguetip hang out) and grabs a servoful of Bruin’s aft, nimble fingers going right for the seams at the back of his codpiece. He’s not going to struggle or try to get away, doesn’t want to even in play, but he is going to be distracting. He even considers licking that pretty crest, but discards the idea on the grounds that he’d rather not be dropped. 

So he plays with seams, dips nimble fingertips into anywhere that seems promising, and twists his helm around to see where they’re going, antennae clamping flat to his helm in preparation for the deluge of energy from the groundbridge.

As soon as they’re in the ship and therefore can’t bring in any scavengers with the scent, Gravescratch relaxes and wriggles his hips, letting the armor fluff up to let out heat. Which also releases a wave of arousal-scent, more that likely enough for the wolves to pick up on. He’s excited; it’s been quite awhile since he’s interfaced, and much longer since he had more than one potential berthmate. 

(Continuing elsewhere for ease of re-reading)

https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=31563

(sorry folks, jumping ship to make this easier to track)

(Do feel free to continue watching, the forum has no locks)

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

Gravescratch’s antennae twitch faster at the contact, then settle, and he leans his helm gently into Bruin’s touches. Mm. That’s nice, and Bruin stopped touching him when he tensed up, which is an excellent sign. Large and powerful as he may be, this mech seems friendly enough, and Gravescratch considers himself to be a good judge of character, so… does he want to go? 

More specifically, does he want to go back to a ship that probably doesn’t have anything on it that will eat him, but does have people who are gentle and calm and want to pet and interface with him?

Pit yes. 

Rumbling softly, he steps closer and lowers all four servos to pet seams in Bruin’s stomach and sides, leaning in to nuzzle that tempting crest again. “Absolutely. I would love for this to continue.” he purrs, then leans back a fraction, meeting Bruin’s optics. “But, and forgive my bluntness, you will not be spiking me. I am open to discussion, particularly as to whether they” a quick glance over at the cyber-wolves, “would be interested, but you spiking me is off the table because I rather like being able to walk.” he comments, one servo straying down to rub a spot on Bruin’s stomach riight above his codpiece. 

He’s a bit reluctant to back off. The contact is nice, he’s still curious, and, quite frankly, he’s rather hoping to be picked up and wrapped around Bruin’s shoulders. It would probably be comfortable, and he quite likes the idea of being picked up and carried to someone’s berth. So he stays right up close, prurring softly and petting seams, and debates whether or not he wants to mention that particular desire. 

Friendly might be an understatement now, but Bruins base coding had  always been to protect. A private bodyguard before the war, others always got put ahead of himself. 

Bruin’s internal temperature is already beginning to tick upwards with four roaming servos at work. Thankfully he dulled the sensors in his crest after last time, at least for now, not wanting a full systems reset, but it will still garner a rumble and the crest itself twitching.

“If that tongue is as magical as it looks, then I don’t mind in the least. They will have to speak for themselves however-” and he’s going to get cut off by that straying servo and a choked growl will come out instead.  

Gravescratch doesn’t seem like he’ll be inclined to release him any time soon, so Bruin is just going to expedite things now that he has confirmed interest in returning to the ship. With an APC alt mode, he is meant to be able to haul heavy loads on top of supporting his armor so his frame is more than reinforced enough to carry one light dog mech and drag an empty frame.

The servo on his chest is going to reach around under Gravescratch’s legs and lift as he stands up. He’ll snag the dead mech on his way past, heading to the ground bridge Spotter just opened.

While Bruin’s judgement may sometimes be questionable, none of the pack are going to step in this time. Quite frankly, Bruin is enjoying himself and they would take no happiness from interrupting. And they don’t feel this one lone bot is threat to all of them.

Gravescratch hums out a little “mrrrr<3″ noise as he’s picked up, happily draping himself across Bruin’s shoulder, and almost immediately gets distracted by the big mech’s back armor. 

Fans running softly, he runs three servos down over all the thick armor, mapping it out, then grins (really, opens his mouth slightly, perks his antennae, and lets his tonguetip hang out) and grabs a servoful of Bruin’s aft, nimble fingers going right for the seams at the back of his codpiece. He’s not going to struggle or try to get away, doesn’t want to even in play, but he is going to be distracting. He even considers licking that pretty crest, but discards the idea on the grounds that he’d rather not be dropped. 

So he plays with seams, dips nimble fingertips into anywhere that seems promising, and twists his helm around to see where they’re going, antennae clamping flat to his helm in preparation for the deluge of energy from the groundbridge.

As soon as they’re in the ship and therefore can’t bring in any scavengers with the scent, Gravescratch relaxes and wriggles his hips, letting the armor fluff up to let out heat. Which also releases a wave of arousal-scent, more that likely enough for the wolves to pick up on. He’s excited; it’s been quite awhile since he’s interfaced, and much longer since he had more than one potential berthmate. 

(Continuing elsewhere for ease of re-reading)

https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=31563

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

Still projecting calm curiosity with a growing hint of interest, Gravescratch watches the new arrivals, servos drifting down Bruin’s side- and tenses, just a bit, at the touches. Not a spot he was expecting to have touched, especially not like that, and- 

Ahh, he flirted accidentally. Again. Visibly relaxing and leaning into the touches a bit to make it clear that he isn’t rejecting them, he turns to look the wolves over, clearly sizing them up, then chuckles and leans up to nuzzle that pretty spiked crest. It’s very soft, and it’s not curiosity-based- it’s closer to affection, maybe a bit of reassurance. 

Not quite a suggestion, but he’s trying to hint that he’s open. He’s not actually going to say anything, just in case he’s misinterpreted the situation and will scare them off or end the contact if he mentions it, but… open body language, staying much closer than is really needed for an inspection, fluffed plating around those exploring servos… he’s making it clear that he’d welcome more attention. 

At this point, he’s worked his way down to Bruin’s stomach, and he lightly strokes the plating under his narrow servos as he tries to decide what to do next. The logical progression would be the big mech’s thighs, but… hm. What will the reaction to that be? 

And is he going to get any sort of reaction by deliberately licking the other side of his helm, but much more slowly and obviously? Because, short of describing his distinctly unusual interface equipment, this is the best way to get people into berth with him.

…hm. If this is going how he thinks, they’ll need a berth. 

A deep deep, rumble was building quietly in Bruin’s chest, but goes silent when the other mech tenses. Was that uncomfortable, did he hurt him? His own claws were safely tucked away with a short transformation sequence in his servos, but his fingers were large and clumsy sometimes.

Oh- nuzzling the crest caused an immeadiate reaction, Bruin’s armor rippling in a wave from helm to pede and a loud Whuff as air shot out of his vents. By the time his sensors re-stabilize, those hands are stroking the platelets of his stomach and well-Primus now that has to be flirting. 

Bruin takes a moment trying to focus, because they’re all still faffing about in a rubble field on a potentially hostile planet, the symbionts are all projecting various amounts of amusement/protectiveness/interest through the bond, and there is a perfectly good meal that they all need laying out in the open. If Gravescratch was will to follow through, it might be best to head back to their ship. 

But first- he’s gonna raise a servo up slowly and gently to fondle those twitchy antennas, the other hand still fiddling with his chest armor seams. The other mech had touched his crest so it was only fair.

“Would you ah, mind joining us on our ship? That is- if you’d like to continue this. The others are getting a bit antsy. I swear if you want to leave all you’ll have to do is ask, and we bear you no ill will.”  

Gravescratch’s antennae twitch faster at the contact, then settle, and he leans his helm gently into Bruin’s touches. Mm. That’s nice, and Bruin stopped touching him when he tensed up, which is an excellent sign. Large and powerful as he may be, this mech seems friendly enough, and Gravescratch considers himself to be a good judge of character, so… does he want to go? 

More specifically, does he want to go back to a ship that probably doesn’t have anything on it that will eat him, but does have people who are gentle and calm and want to pet and interface with him?

Pit yes. 

Rumbling softly, he steps closer and lowers all four servos to pet seams in Bruin’s stomach and sides, leaning in to nuzzle that tempting crest again. “Absolutely. I would love for this to continue.” he purrs, then leans back a fraction, meeting Bruin’s optics. “But, and forgive my bluntness, you will not be spiking me. I am open to discussion, particularly as to whether they” a quick glance over at the cyber-wolves, “would be interested, but you spiking me is off the table because I rather like being able to walk.” he comments, one servo straying down to rub a spot on Bruin’s stomach riight above his codpiece. 

He’s a bit reluctant to back off. The contact is nice, he’s still curious, and, quite frankly, he’s rather hoping to be picked up and wrapped around Bruin’s shoulders. It would probably be comfortable, and he quite likes the idea of being picked up and carried to someone’s berth. So he stays right up close, prurring softly and petting seams, and debates whether or not he wants to mention that particular desire. 

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

http://gravescratch.tumblr.com/post/156545592618/my-dentae-are-primarily-made-for-crushing-and

Gravescratch raises his antennae in the closest thing he can manage to a smile, mostly in order to remove the threat aspect of what he does next. Which is let his mouth hang open and his tongue loll out, displaying a full set of teeth made to saw through metal and rip potential meals apart. He’s definitely a scavenger, and an effective one at that, if those teeth are anything to go by.

He doesn’t miss the nervousness, unsurprisingly, and responds by shutting his mouth and, after a second or two, bumping his faceplate into Bruin’s cheek. Okay. Hopefully that helps. That is absolutely not something any scientist would do, nuzzling an interesting person. Definitely not Shockwave’s actions. “I cannot hack you and would have no desire to do so if I could.” he whispers, taking a guess at what the problem might be, then swivels several of his optics around to look up at-

And that is definitely a falcon large enough to be a major concern for him and his lack of armor. And cyberwolves. Big ones. Ah- more symbiotes.

Gravescratch’s servos keep moving, both right servos on Bruin’s front, the left on his back, but his helm swivels around to look at the new arrivals and their prize. “Ah, nice- moderately fresh, I take?” he asks, tilting his helm slightly and eyeing the wolves, and moves around to Bruin’s other side so he can face them without looking back over his own shoulders. Hm, that looks tasty. He’s not going to even remotely suggest his interest in it, though, people don’t like that. Especially when they’ve just gone and found their own meal.

Hm. “Would you like to return my inspections? I will not object to you touching me. You seem calm enough, and, honestly, there is little I would object to.” the lanky mech hums, fluffing up what little armor he has in order to invite touch. And accidentally lining that offer up with a lick to basically the entire side of his helm that unintentionally shows his tongue off. It’s not an intentional proposition, but, given that one of his servos drifts down to Bruin’s stomach at the same time, it certainly seems like one. He’s just a bit too oblivious to notice.

The nuzzle is reassuring, even more so when Gravescratch hits the scraplet on the head with his comment. He’s still fragged in the helm from Shockwave and likely always will be.

 《Who the frag is-》 

 《You got cozy quick boss-》 

 《Should we be concerned-》 

 The wolves all attempt to communicate at the same time once they step into view. Spotter just swoops down to his traditional perch on Bruins shoulder as the other mech switches sides. 

Specter’s place on Gravescratch’s shoulder, and Bruin’s continual calm through their bond is enough  to convince them that no one needs a limb torn off immediately. In fact, the boss is really digging this guy.

The orange crest that gathered his attention earlier is beginning to twitch slightly.

“Fresh enough for us” Pointbreak says, as he watches them- that is an impressive tongue right there.

Bruin would have to agree, despite having just seen the teeth that go with it. He’s going to take you up on that offer, carefully feeling around the joints where his second arms meet his torso, and straying a bit under the armor there.

Still projecting calm curiosity with a growing hint of interest, Gravescratch watches the new arrivals, servos drifting down Bruin’s side- and tenses, just a bit, at the touches. Not a spot he was expecting to have touched, especially not like that, and- 

Ahh, he flirted accidentally. Again. Visibly relaxing and leaning into the touches a bit to make it clear that he isn’t rejecting them, he turns to look the wolves over, clearly sizing them up, then chuckles and leans up to nuzzle that pretty spiked crest. It’s very soft, and it’s not curiosity-based- it’s closer to affection, maybe a bit of reassurance. 

Not quite a suggestion, but he’s trying to hint that he’s open. He’s not actually going to say anything, just in case he’s misinterpreted the situation and will scare them off or end the contact if he mentions it, but… open body language, staying much closer than is really needed for an inspection, fluffed plating around those exploring servos… he’s making it clear that he’d welcome more attention. 

At this point, he’s worked his way down to Bruin’s stomach, and he lightly strokes the plating under his narrow servos as he tries to decide what to do next. The logical progression would be the big mech’s thighs, but… hm. What will the reaction to that be? 

And is he going to get any sort of reaction by deliberately licking the other side of his helm, but much more slowly and obviously? Because, short of describing his distinctly unusual interface equipment, this is the best way to get people into berth with him.

…hm. If this is going how he thinks, they’ll need a berth. 

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

http://gravescratch.tumblr.com/post/156545592618/my-dentae-are-primarily-made-for-crushing-and

Gravescratch raises his antennae in the closest thing he can manage to a smile, mostly in order to remove the threat aspect of what he does next. Which is let his mouth hang open and his tongue loll out, displaying a full set of teeth made to saw through metal and rip potential meals apart. He’s definitely a scavenger, and an effective one at that, if those teeth are anything to go by.

He doesn’t miss the nervousness, unsurprisingly, and responds by shutting his mouth and, after a second or two, bumping his faceplate into Bruin’s cheek. Okay. Hopefully that helps. That is absolutely not something any scientist would do, nuzzling an interesting person. Definitely not Shockwave’s actions. “I cannot hack you and would have no desire to do so if I could.” he whispers, taking a guess at what the problem might be, then swivels several of his optics around to look up at-

And that is definitely a falcon large enough to be a major concern for him and his lack of armor. And cyberwolves. Big ones. Ah- more symbiotes.

Gravescratch’s servos keep moving, both right servos on Bruin’s front, the left on his back, but his helm swivels around to look at the new arrivals and their prize. “Ah, nice- moderately fresh, I take?” he asks, tilting his helm slightly and eyeing the wolves, and moves around to Bruin’s other side so he can face them without looking back over his own shoulders. Hm, that looks tasty. He’s not going to even remotely suggest his interest in it, though, people don’t like that. Especially when they’ve just gone and found their own meal.

Hm. “Would you like to return my inspections? I will not object to you touching me. You seem calm enough, and, honestly, there is little I would object to.” the lanky mech hums, fluffing up what little armor he has in order to invite touch. And accidentally lining that offer up with a lick to basically the entire side of his helm that unintentionally shows his tongue off. It’s not an intentional proposition, but, given that one of his servos drifts down to Bruin’s stomach at the same time, it certainly seems like one. He’s just a bit too oblivious to notice.

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

Ah, good, they’re friendly. Gravescratch sets one servo on the ground and leans down to lightly sniff at Specter from a reasonable distance, resisting the urge to lick some part of him, then sets all four servos on the ground, crouches slightly, and fluffs his plating just a bit in a clear invitation to touch. He’ll gladly indulge curiosity, if there is any to be had. “I have seen Shockwave from far too close up. I try to avoid him and his utter lack of morals. I would not welcome his curiosity. Yours, though, I will invite.” he rumbles, ducking his helm slightly to let Specter reach. And Bruin, too, he seems calm enough. Actually, speaking of Bruin…

Tilting his helm slightly to watch Bruin with the three optics on the right side of his helm, Gravescratch rather blatantly looks him over for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Would you be willing to let me come over there and look you over? I am quite curious, I admit. I will stop if you ask, and I promise not to intentionally touch anywhere too personal. No promises on accidental overstepping of bounds, I am frankly very prone to forgetting social norms, but I am not the sort of person who intentionally pushes the boundaries of others to advance my own curiosity.” 

As he talks, Gravescratch arranges one primary and both secondary arms into a makeshift but rather obvious ladder, clearly an invitation for Specter to climb him. Curiosity that involves contact means he gets to figure out the curious being a bit more without having to reach out, touch, and probably overstep about 10 boundaries. 

Now… how can he get close to Bruin and maybe surreptitiously get a taste of him? He definitely wants to lick Bruin. Not sure why, or where, but, hey, might as well indulge the urge if it’s safe. Might learn some things. People tend to taste like where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing.

gravescratch:

Ah, good, they’re friendly. Gravescratch sets one servo on the ground and leans down to lightly sniff at Specter from a reasonable distance, resisting the urge to lick some part of him, then sets all four servos on the ground, crouches slightly, and fluffs his plating just a bit in a clear invitation to touch. He’ll gladly indulge curiosity, if there is any to be had. “I have seen Shockwave from far too close up. I try to avoid him and his utter lack of morals. I would not welcome his curiosity. Yours, though, I will invite.” he rumbles, ducking his helm slightly to let Specter reach. And Bruin, too, he seems calm enough. Actually, speaking of Bruin…

Tilting his helm slightly to watch Bruin with the three optics on the right side of his helm, Gravescratch rather blatantly looks him over for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Would you be willing to let me come over there and look you over? I am quite curious, I admit. I will stop if you ask, and I promise not to intentionally touch anywhere too personal. No promises on accidental overstepping of bounds, I am frankly very prone to forgetting social norms, but I am not the sort of person who intentionally pushes the boundaries of others to advance my own curiosity.” 

As he talks, Gravescratch arranges one primary and both secondary arms into a makeshift but rather obvious ladder, clearly an invitation for Specter to climb him. Curiosity that involves contact means he gets to figure out the curious being a bit more without having to reach out, touch, and probably overstep about 10 boundaries. 

Now… how can he get close to Bruin and maybe surreptitiously get a taste of him? He definitely wants to lick Bruin. Not sure why, or where, but, hey, might as well indulge the urge if it’s safe. Might learn some things. People tend to taste like where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing.

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

Ah, good, they’re friendly. Gravescratch sets one servo on the ground and leans down to lightly sniff at Specter from a reasonable distance, resisting the urge to lick some part of him, then sets all four servos on the ground, crouches slightly, and fluffs his plating just a bit in a clear invitation to touch. He’ll gladly indulge curiosity, if there is any to be had. “I have seen Shockwave from far too close up. I try to avoid him and his utter lack of morals. I would not welcome his curiosity. Yours, though, I will invite.” he rumbles, ducking his helm slightly to let Specter reach. And Bruin, too, he seems calm enough. Actually, speaking of Bruin…

Tilting his helm slightly to watch Bruin with the three optics on the right side of his helm, Gravescratch rather blatantly looks him over for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Would you be willing to let me come over there and look you over? I am quite curious, I admit. I will stop if you ask, and I promise not to intentionally touch anywhere too personal. No promises on accidental overstepping of bounds, I am frankly very prone to forgetting social norms, but I am not the sort of person who intentionally pushes the boundaries of others to advance my own curiosity.” 

As he talks, Gravescratch arranges one primary and both secondary arms into a makeshift but rather obvious ladder, clearly an invitation for Specter to climb him. Curiosity that involves contact means he gets to figure out the curious being a bit more without having to reach out, touch, and probably overstep about 10 boundaries. 

Now… how can he get close to Bruin and maybe surreptitiously get a taste of him? He definitely wants to lick Bruin. Not sure why, or where, but, hey, might as well indulge the urge if it’s safe. Might learn some things. People tend to taste like where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing.

Specter is rather impressed by all the eyes. Not touching the other mech yet but he is watching to see if they can all move and focus independently.  Specter has about a 270 degree field of view and his sensory equipment more than makes up for the missing 90, but this bot could probably see even more.

Bruin gives a sharp nod, “Only good Shockwave round here is a dead Shockwave. 2 million years of his… “curiosity” is something I’ll never manage to forget.” 

He is distracted for a moment by a ping from Sidewinder, << Big bot, we got a dead one. Not too fresh but I don’t think the lines are dry yet>> A quick confirmation. The wolves found what they were searching for and will be dragging it back.

He refocuses as the other mech eyes him and makes both his offers. With the rest of the pack on the way, Bruin is confident enough to accept.

< <Can I- >> 

::Go on. If he tries anything you’re already in a position to do some damage::

Specter is going to spring up, by-passing the courteous ladder entirely, tail swinging out for balance as he lands on Gravescratch’s shoulder. All his claws except the massive two on his rearmost feet are retracted for safety as he digs toes into armor seams to hang on. No one likes scratched paint and torn wires. He is careful to avoid the antennas as his tail swings.

Bruin considers for a moment, “You can. But,” he holds up a hand, “I’ll hold you to that promise”  

Licking isn’t likely to even register on his radar of uncomfortable unless it’s his cod piece.

Gravescratch’s optics all move independently of each other, giving him such a range of vision that he can see just about as far back as the bases of his antennae, so he can watch Specter all the way up his shoulder. Further back, too, he can see anywhere but right behind his own helm.

Two of his smallest optics fix on the odd being for a moment, but he stays relaxed, antennae quivering slightly towards the little creature. Hey, he’s got a good look at this weird little thing. And a good feel for those bizarre little feet. And he can listen to the soft lifesigns, thanks to Specter clinging onto him right near his antennae. 

Slowly straightening up as much as he easily can (which means he’s still hunched over and creepy-looking), Gravescratch rolls his shoulders gently back and forth, testing how well Specter can hang on, then gives in to impulse, twists his helm around, flicks the tip of his tongue out just enough to touch it to Specter’s servo for a very quick taste, and then spins his helm around like nothing happened. 

Field unfurling enough to broadcast greeting/reassurance/curiosity to both the large mech in front of him and the small mech sitting on him, Gravescratch hums gently and approaches the impressively, intimidatingly large mech, moving rather slowly to be certain it’s not a threat. 

Just in case, he starts with Bruin’s arm, both primary servos drifting gently across the plating and occasionally dipping into seams, though not hard enough to hurt or even be all that noticeable. He’s not trying to start anything (he likes being able to walk, thank you, and he doubts this mech does anything but top), so he keeps the seam inspections short rather than stroking in and rubbing, and he moves quickly up to Bruin’s shoulder without lingering. The curiosity in his field strengthens gradually, as does the volume of the soft growl-hum he’s making, and it’s definitely peaked as he finds the bright orange antennae (?) on Bruin’s helm. 

He should not lick these, particularly since he’s not certain how sensitive they are, but he does venture a tiny lick of one of those angled cheek guards, then ducks his helm slightly and repeats the motion with the workings of Bruin’s shoulder, though a slightly longer lick and a tiny nip to the plating. 

Whoops, wait, that’s not normal. “Terribly sorry, taste is a primary sense for me. I was built to be a scavenger and given a rather strong drive to figure out what is edible and what is not. You are technically edible, but, as you are alive and not threatening me, I will not eat you. This is not me figuring out if you are edible, this is me figuring out where you have been. Do ignore that unless it makes you uncomfortable. 

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

Definitely intrigued but still a bit cautious, Gravescratch hauls himself up onto the top of the rubble, making himself clearly visible as a sign that this isn’t an ambush. Six long antennae perk up and quiver, another clear “hello I am curious and not attacking you” gesture, and his primary optic brightens like a searchlight as he slowly begins to slink down off of the rubble heap. 

Not directly towards them, though. He doesn’t know what the response to a direct approach might be, so he slinks off to the side instead, still with his antennae perked in an effort to not make it look like he’s circling around the odd pair to get behind them. 

When he’s on level ground, he lifts himself up onto two legs, tilts his helm slightly, and very carefully approaches the two, all seven optics flicking back and forth between them. Hm. This looks like a reasonable place to be speaking from without having to shout, too, so… 

“Hello there. Pardon me for my curiosity, and my bluntness, but… may I inquire as to what you are?” he thrums, speaking in a surprisingly deep voice that apparently does not require him opening his mouth to speak clearly. 

Oooh thats not what they were expecting. If Bruin is honest, this bot reminds him rather distinctly of some of the early designs for Specter’s frame.  A coincidence certainly, but it still makes him wary because there are only so many reasons a frame would be shaped like that.

They both turn to follow his path as he approaches, but make no hostile movements. Once he stands up however, that has Specter crouching and tail twitching, 4 optics watching unblinkingly.

Bruin still stands calmly, slightly leaning on the walking staff he carries. He does scoff quietly when they speak. 

“I could ask you the same thing if I didn’t already have a few guesses mech. But do ya want the long version or the short?” Bruin answers with a deep rumble befitting of his frame. 

Gravescratch slinks a bit closer, slowly dropping onto all fours in an effort to loom a bit less, though that’s mostly for the little weird thing’s benefit. He actually likes looming over tall mechs who are usually the tallest in the room, they make funny expressions and sometimes act submissive enough that it startles them. But looming over this whatever-it-is seems like probably a good way to get himself bitten, stabbed, or otherwise punctured and quite possibly envenomated, so he tries to be relatively short without looking like he’s crouching or slinking. Which is difficult, because everything he does looks like slinking. 

“Long, if you don’t mind… I have the time.” he shrugs, then slowly lowers his helm, reaches out with one servo, and offers it to Specter, trying to be friendly without getting too close. “I am guessing you are either a symbiote whose host has some rather peculiar tastes, or you were designed by someone who decided that, no, you did not need to not terrify people. The latter is my explanation- hence the Functionalist aspects. Please ignore those, I absolutely do not subscribe to the idea that anyone is better or worse than another because of how, where, or with what they were born.” he scoffs, still careful to keep his posture as unthreatening as possible. Even if he is leaning down a bit to sniff at whatever this is. Symbiotes are usually easy enough to pick out by scent, they smell very strange and just a little bit nice. It’s difficult to get a good whiff without leaning in alarmingly close, though. 

Ah you are very lucky, because that’s going to get a laugh out of both of them. Bruin gawfing and startled static from Specter before it resolves into snickering.

“Both actually. And you’ll have to forgive Specter for not answering you himself, he doesn’t physically speak much.”

Specter will however relax visibly, sitting back on his haunches and raising up the third set of legs, which turn out to be more similar to arms and hands, to reach past the first two sets and shake the offered servo. His antenna and sensory quills are all swiveled forward curiously. Sniffing is permitted, and licking will be met with exasperation and a light tail ‘thwap’ on the helm because he has to put up with that already from the cyberwolves, thank you very much.

“We’re an odd bunch, but Specs takes the prize for most original. That’s just what happens when you’re one of Shockwave’s mad science projects. The other’s are stuck in modified mechanimal frames, but Specter was purpose built, and he’s damn good at what he does,” Bruin expains, sitting on a larger piece of rubble carefully. This might take a while, so he sends out a ping for the others to regroup with them.

Ah, good, they’re friendly. Gravescratch sets one servo on the ground and leans down to lightly sniff at Specter from a reasonable distance, resisting the urge to lick some part of him, then sets all four servos on the ground, crouches slightly, and fluffs his plating just a bit in a clear invitation to touch. He’ll gladly indulge curiosity, if there is any to be had. “I have seen Shockwave from far too close up. I try to avoid him and his utter lack of morals. I would not welcome his curiosity. Yours, though, I will invite.” he rumbles, ducking his helm slightly to let Specter reach. And Bruin, too, he seems calm enough. Actually, speaking of Bruin…

Tilting his helm slightly to watch Bruin with the three optics on the right side of his helm, Gravescratch rather blatantly looks him over for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Would you be willing to let me come over there and look you over? I am quite curious, I admit. I will stop if you ask, and I promise not to intentionally touch anywhere too personal. No promises on accidental overstepping of bounds, I am frankly very prone to forgetting social norms, but I am not the sort of person who intentionally pushes the boundaries of others to advance my own curiosity.” 

As he talks, Gravescratch arranges one primary and both secondary arms into a makeshift but rather obvious ladder, clearly an invitation for Specter to climb him. Curiosity that involves contact means he gets to figure out the curious being a bit more without having to reach out, touch, and probably overstep about 10 boundaries. 

Now… how can he get close to Bruin and maybe surreptitiously get a taste of him? He definitely wants to lick Bruin. Not sure why, or where, but, hey, might as well indulge the urge if it’s safe. Might learn some things. People tend to taste like where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing.

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

gravescratch:

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

Definitely intrigued but still a bit cautious, Gravescratch hauls himself up onto the top of the rubble, making himself clearly visible as a sign that this isn’t an ambush. Six long antennae perk up and quiver, another clear “hello I am curious and not attacking you” gesture, and his primary optic brightens like a searchlight as he slowly begins to slink down off of the rubble heap. 

Not directly towards them, though. He doesn’t know what the response to a direct approach might be, so he slinks off to the side instead, still with his antennae perked in an effort to not make it look like he’s circling around the odd pair to get behind them. 

When he’s on level ground, he lifts himself up onto two legs, tilts his helm slightly, and very carefully approaches the two, all seven optics flicking back and forth between them. Hm. This looks like a reasonable place to be speaking from without having to shout, too, so… 

“Hello there. Pardon me for my curiosity, and my bluntness, but… may I inquire as to what you are?” he thrums, speaking in a surprisingly deep voice that apparently does not require him opening his mouth to speak clearly. 

Oooh thats not what they were expecting. If Bruin is honest, this bot reminds him rather distinctly of some of the early designs for Specter’s frame.  A coincidence certainly, but it still makes him wary because there are only so many reasons a frame would be shaped like that.

They both turn to follow his path as he approaches, but make no hostile movements. Once he stands up however, that has Specter crouching and tail twitching, 4 optics watching unblinkingly.

Bruin still stands calmly, slightly leaning on the walking staff he carries. He does scoff quietly when they speak. 

“I could ask you the same thing if I didn’t already have a few guesses mech. But do ya want the long version or the short?” Bruin answers with a deep rumble befitting of his frame. 

Gravescratch slinks a bit closer, slowly dropping onto all fours in an effort to loom a bit less, though that’s mostly for the little weird thing’s benefit. He actually likes looming over tall mechs who are usually the tallest in the room, they make funny expressions and sometimes act submissive enough that it startles them. But looming over this whatever-it-is seems like probably a good way to get himself bitten, stabbed, or otherwise punctured and quite possibly envenomated, so he tries to be relatively short without looking like he’s crouching or slinking. Which is difficult, because everything he does looks like slinking. 

“Long, if you don’t mind… I have the time.” he shrugs, then slowly lowers his helm, reaches out with one servo, and offers it to Specter, trying to be friendly without getting too close. “I am guessing you are either a symbiote whose host has some rather peculiar tastes, or you were designed by someone who decided that, no, you did not need to not terrify people. The latter is my explanation- hence the Functionalist aspects. Please ignore those, I absolutely do not subscribe to the idea that anyone is better or worse than another because of how, where, or with what they were born.” he scoffs, still careful to keep his posture as unthreatening as possible. Even if he is leaning down a bit to sniff at whatever this is. Symbiotes are usually easy enough to pick out by scent, they smell very strange and just a little bit nice. It’s difficult to get a good whiff without leaning in alarmingly close, though. 

@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

@gravescratch

Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.

Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.

A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.

::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::

《I know the game, quit worrying》

Definitely intrigued but still a bit cautious, Gravescratch hauls himself up onto the top of the rubble, making himself clearly visible as a sign that this isn’t an ambush. Six long antennae perk up and quiver, another clear “hello I am curious and not attacking you” gesture, and his primary optic brightens like a searchlight as he slowly begins to slink down off of the rubble heap. 

Not directly towards them, though. He doesn’t know what the response to a direct approach might be, so he slinks off to the side instead, still with his antennae perked in an effort to not make it look like he’s circling around the odd pair to get behind them. 

When he’s on level ground, he lifts himself up onto two legs, tilts his helm slightly, and very carefully approaches the two, all seven optics flicking back and forth between them. Hm. This looks like a reasonable place to be speaking from without having to shout, too, so… 

“Hello there. Pardon me for my curiosity, and my bluntness, but… may I inquire as to what you are?” he thrums, speaking in a surprisingly deep voice that apparently does not require him opening his mouth to speak clearly.