iaconarchivist

[iaconarchivist]

♡

[iaconarchivist]

★—» Some mysterious of the universe would never be answered—

             The origin of life.              The meaning of life.

              … and how did Orion get into such hiding places.               More importantly, how did the tiny tyke escape so easily?

              Ratchet’s question earned several little giggles. Each peal of laughter was happier than the last, but faded away to the sound of more banging.

              Orion was going to keep his secrets.

[verse: fount of innocence] *Fretting mama Ratchet noises*

[iaconarchivist]

★—» Wherever he was, little Orion was having more fun than he should in the tight little space. It was dark, but light filtered in, and he could hear Ratchet below him, and the soft clammer of the street below. Little servos played with something Ratchet used as a tool; all Orion knew or cared about was how fun it was to bang on things.

[verse: fount of innocence] *Fretting mama Ratchet noises*

“Now where’d he go?!”

[iaconarchivist]

.: Ah, hello? :.

✠⋅⋅⋅||; {{ Yes, hello? How may I be of assistance? }}

[iaconarchivist]

-pokes audial fin gently- c:

✠⋅⋅⋅||; Testy little archivist flinched with his desire to swat at the pokes.

❝I ask that you don’t do that.❞

[iaconarchivist]

  On ne choisit pas d'où l'on vient;                                                                                                                                      ( on choisit ce qu'on ｄｅｖｉｅｎｔ )   

                                                      ♔                                                      

                                                       La ʟɪʙᴇʀᴛé est la droit de tout.                                

[iaconarchivist]

*Catches up with in the hall.* "Optimus, Since you have a dazzling aversion to the medbay, I'll have to ask you on the fly as they say. How are you feeling? Has the diet change helped at all?"

✠⋅⋅⋅||; Whomever Knock Out thought he had caught up to, it was not the Prime. Instead, Orion looked over at him and sighed.

                     ❝Knock Out, I know the ship is dark, but I am not Optimus Prime.❞

             Really, Megatron was going to have to do something about the dank lighting of their home.

[iaconarchivist]

i'm so sorry but... Could you please do SG!Opti x Normal Orion Pax :OOOO i'm sure i'd die and also edit to those images if you ever drew them xDD **MY SHIPPER HEART***

Well… I don’t feel comfortable shipping Optimus and Orion but if you really want to see it…..

[iaconarchivist]

orz

[iaconarchivist]

ooc;

i really do need to stop forgetting to check this lil baby’s inbox.

[iaconarchivist]

—✠— Immediately the wonderment of what there was to remember; a prominent of his spark pulsed outward, flaring brightly with a whispered secret so soft it remained indiscernible to even Orion. To one side he cocked his helm, and looked at this ‘Megatron’ from another angle, all in hopes that it bring some of the comprehension he currently lacked.

             Around them he peered, into the erect stacks of data-pillars, with only the filtered light of the sun above to illuminate them. Once they litter the massive archives with their ambient light, and seemed to sing to the librarians that tended to their calling with pious reverence. None of such memories was accessible to Orion, who could only see the few that stood and the many that lay in haphazard disarray.

             For all he knew—all he could know— was that this was where he belonged, but it was not as intended. It was like Orion had the right key to the right lock, but either the key had been shaved or the lock’s tumblers had come entirely out of alignment.

             Well, at the very least, Megatron did seem to fit into the puzzle, although the fit was still awkward and struck out of balance. Harmony could be tuned up with a little work, so Orion peered upwards to the long height of the titan…

                              Innocently unaware that he should be frightened.

             “Thank you,” was all Orion could say, because there was not enough left of the sky for Hadeen to transverse that day. Soon the night would come, and the darkness was something he knew enough to avoid.

[VERSE: REBIRTH] RP: Wishes for the Lost

[iaconarchivist]

—✠— How strange to speak of historical events as if they were chapters of bygone stories, and tell their tales to the main characters within the narrative; Orion stared at the brighter polished Megatron and watched him. There was still a dangerous gleam on the surface of his metal, but it was duller and softer than Optimus’ bondmate had been before even the new knightly armor.

              This was not a dissimilar curiosity formerly held, where Orion marveled at the gladiator and tried to understand the intricate tessellation of his thoughts and see what lay beyond the raw surface.

              There—right there— in those optics he saw first glimmer of familiarity; at least, Orion hoped it was there, but it could very well be his wishful imagination. Rather than display the soft and whimsical smile, the displaced archivist tucked his helm and fidgeted with his empty digits.

              “Nemesis Prime—that is what they call him here, because it was already confusing enough with Optimus and me, a third one just throws the entire balance off—” He was rambling; he winced.

              Preambled with a steady inward vent, Orion calmed himself and looked upwards. No one had bothered to ask how he was truly treated, so this was the first iteration of his tale. “Nemesis Prime was not so terrible to me as I had envisioned. He was worse to the others, and when it was just I… well, he found me more of an oddity than a subject of his malevolent interests.

              Added to the rambling confession, Orion said with some shame, “The terrorcons were truly more terrifying, and only for their constant noises; it was rather unnerving. I do not think he had any harm in mind for me.”

              On that stream of thought, he already skipped to the last statement with an ignition of passion that made a coruscated display within his optics. “There is not as much here on board the Nemesis, but Meg—Lord Megatron—” the correction interrupted the flow, and he paused to bite at the soft malleable derma.

                                            Guilty he summarized, “Yes, I do still read.”                                                           Orion also still babbled.

RP: Is That You?

[iaconarchivist]

Optics stare through the darkness of a room, a quite whisper long and drawn out cut through the silence 'Oriiiion, Oriiion.' Then the lights flick on and ruin the mystique. "Orion! How are you feeling?"

✠⋅⋅⋅||; There was almost a groan, but certainly an optic roll. Knock Out was one of the more dramatic ones, and it was often ruined by the ridiculousness of his friend.

              "Thanks to your care, I am beginning to feel better, my friend."

[iaconarchivist]

✠⋅⋅⋅||; Never once forgotten, Orion felt the sensation of Megatron's haze heavily upon his too-light armor. For so long he had been more isolated than in company, even while surrounded by the Autobots and Decepticons. To them, he was an invisible oddity, best forgotten in the shadows save for pranks or to ask for assistance.

             Then, amidst Megatron's words, the archivist stood a little taller and came short only in frame; his presence was equal to the other. Finally, a small smile that warmed his chrome-polished features, "That... would be nice, Megatron."

Azure bathed over the familiar armor of the archivist, watching as polished lipplates parted for a moment only to be followed by hesitance. He had never known an archivist to censor himself. And were he not watching the smaller mech with scrutiny, he would have never noticed the brief pause.

                                                                                                            Do not hold back in front of him.

Shifting his weight, he adjusted his stance as Orion spoke, ex-venting with disdain. “Lord Megatron is what they called me when I began to lead Cybertron into war,” he shook his helm, “Lord Megatron exists upon this vessel, but it is not I. I am only a solider—once a gladiator—here to put an end to my enemy. You may call me Megatron, Orion.” 

He paused, considering his response before he confessed, “I ask in hopes that you are. That way, I might keep you company.”

[iaconarchivist]

✠⋅⋅⋅||; Under the bright gaze, just a blue and pure as Orion's own, the archivist practically squirmed. Any brighter and he feared his thin armor plating would melt under Megatron's stare. None were one to pay attention closely to the tucked expressions on his features, but for a brief moment the lipplates parted and then he censored himself.

                                                                                                                                                Silencing his frivolity.

               Then alas he spoke, and nary a raised optic and a lilt to his voice of faux bravado. Cyan met with equal hue, and there was enough to make a spark that pulsed through Orio's spark. Yet his words remained calm, beguiling himself, "Why do you ask, Lord Megatron?

Sensing a presence behind him, Megatron turns, his bright azure optics taking in Orion’s visage.

"Are you lonely, archivist?"

[iaconarchivist]

✠⋅⋅⋅||; Stares at the other's back. Subconsciously repeating a dialogue of, [ Please talk to me. ]

| How Orion flirts: he eyes someone attractive and hopes they are braver than him. |

[iaconarchivist]

[ art by pillessar ]