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There is a brief pause filled with audible clicks and thuds, followed by the slightly echoey acoustics that come from someone recording audio in a large room. "Hello hello! You've reached Dr. Velocity! Feel free to leave a message or a video or whatever here, and I'll do my very best to respond promptly! And if it this is about the stickers, Ratchet, I didn't do it! Love and love and love!"

text | voice | video | action

Date: 2025-03-10 09:42 pm (UTC)
maximalize: (pic#16583453)
From: [personal profile] maximalize
[he nods, then remembers this is a voice call.]

Yes. That works.

[no it doesn't. he wants it out him now, now, now-- no, it's fine. it doesn't hurt. he can't hear her laughing anymore. did he hear anyone? primal returns to what he was doing once the appointment is slotted into his internal calendar, which was sitting stiffly and staring at a wall and pretending like his grief for airazor isn't currently burning a hole through him.

at the very least, when he is there, it's clear that he's managed to pull himself forward in leaps and bounds from the first time where he'd opted for sedation just to stay grounded, onwards to asking the optimus from his reality to accompany him a few times when he needed to be checked over after being extremely poisoned and shot in the grand hunt, up to now, here on his own.]


While we were away on our mission, something... settled around my spark chamber. [...okay maybe he's still downplaying stuff, because he didn't seem to be in any great rush to have something so close to his spark looked at. primal's hands are clenched into shaking fists though, as he looks down at his knees where he's perched on the edge of the medical berth.] I haven't looked. I don't understand it other than it feels... odd.

Date: 2025-04-01 08:45 pm (UTC)
maximalize: (pic#16583453)
From: [personal profile] maximalize
Fortunately for Velocity, Primal had the presence of mind to assume that whatever is inside him is probably cause for concern. It does not have to be actively harming him for it to be an issue, after all, and so he does not look overly shocked at this news.

"At Kopaya' we were invited to drink something, as is their tradition. It seemed to have a different effect on everyone, with this being mine. One of our compatriots said this is an offering from the twin of Destiny. I have not had a chance to look further into this. I fear it may be magical." He feels ridiculous saying that. Primal, like many others, has not had much experience with supernatural things before this reality. "I will open my chest so you can see. It does not cause me discomfort."

He leans back as he says this, chest panels shifting to open. Velocity can probably recognise the shape of the thing inside him, as many of their race would-- this strange Matrix appears to be fully inorganic, until she looks closer and sees that it seems to be wooden around the handles. Then she might notice she's being watched. Not by Primal, who is also looking down as his finials very slowly start to droop, but by a few clusters of smaller eyes that have opened on it.

"That is indeed... odd." It's probably no surprise how faraway Primal's voice sounds, but also a testament to his willpower that he doesn't immediately react in a significantly less downplayed way, even though he really, really wants to. "It probably shouldn't be in there. I'll take it out for study."

He reaches in and easily grips the handles, as they were made for his hands, and gently attempts to lift it out. If he pretends hard enough, he can ignore the eyes watching his movements.

Primal manages to move it about an inch before he suddenly jerks forward, almost elbowing poor Velocity in the face, as he doubles over on the berth with a feral, animalistic shriek of pure agony, his optics going extremely wide and bright from the shock of it. He brings a fist down on the berth out of reflex to try and deal with the pain, hard enough that he splinters most of his knuckles and splatters energon across it. This works in his favour; the pain stops when he lets go of the relic and his processor is immediately diverted to the new problem of his broken hand.

He says nothing else, then, just stays doubled over on the berth, optical mechanisms spinning wildly as he tries to process it all.

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