Glenn Sparks (
reorienting) wrote in
nexus_crossings2021-01-03 07:48 pm
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+1 Half-Alien Artist
When the Morpho touches down on the furthest outskirts, the ship itself seems only large enough for two people. If he isn't bothered then and there, he can be found wandering about, clad entirely in his latex-like flight suit and a gossamer mask he's made, comprised supposedly of intricately-woven spider thread.
He can easily be found out and about, sketchpad and an old pencil in hand as he draws what he sees. It's late enough in the evening that he arrives. He's mindful to keep distance from anyone in the area, to the point of exhibiting avoidant behavior unless they deliberately approach him.
Should he even stay here? Should he just go again?
For the most part, he only wanders about the outskirts and wilds. Nowhere in a closed space.
Maybe it's wrong to come here, anyway. But so long as he continues to observe his strict cleaning regimen, and physically distances to keep the temptation to interact with others down, there's no risk. He can treat this just like any other planetary observance. It's worked in keeping himself and others safe for two centuries now. It'll work here, too.
Regardless of where he's found, he's surprised when someone gets too close to his self-enforced distance. Even if they're familiar, he doesn't recognize them at first, shoulders hunched and head tucked downward.
"Ah-- I'm sorry, could you please take a few steps back?"
[ooc: For those I've threaded with before, you're welcome to have your character remember Glenn! If so, please let me know, so I can adjust Glenn's reactions to match. :) Furthermore, please feel free to use whatever writing style/tense you prefer; I'll match it.]
He can easily be found out and about, sketchpad and an old pencil in hand as he draws what he sees. It's late enough in the evening that he arrives. He's mindful to keep distance from anyone in the area, to the point of exhibiting avoidant behavior unless they deliberately approach him.
Should he even stay here? Should he just go again?
For the most part, he only wanders about the outskirts and wilds. Nowhere in a closed space.
Maybe it's wrong to come here, anyway. But so long as he continues to observe his strict cleaning regimen, and physically distances to keep the temptation to interact with others down, there's no risk. He can treat this just like any other planetary observance. It's worked in keeping himself and others safe for two centuries now. It'll work here, too.
Regardless of where he's found, he's surprised when someone gets too close to his self-enforced distance. Even if they're familiar, he doesn't recognize them at first, shoulders hunched and head tucked downward.
"Ah-- I'm sorry, could you please take a few steps back?"
[ooc: For those I've threaded with before, you're welcome to have your character remember Glenn! If so, please let me know, so I can adjust Glenn's reactions to match. :) Furthermore, please feel free to use whatever writing style/tense you prefer; I'll match it.]
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There's probably a good reason for that, whether it's some sort of contagion or whether it's some environmental requirement. Some alien species back in his world needed additional help in atmospheres that could support humans, but they couldn't breathe naturally in.
"...Yes. Of course." Ben dutifully steps back. He's sure the other man has his reasons. Ben himself tends to keep a distance from other people, less because he doesn't trust his own powers and more because of his own issues. There's a heaviness to him that's almost palpable - an aura of guilt and doubt. But the visitor seems friendly, so Ben decides to reach out.
"You're new here? My name's Ben Solo." He doesn't offer a hand, since if the young man's concerned about people coming close it's a safe bet that touching him wouldn't be a good idea. "Sorry for surprising you. I saw your ship. We have space travel in my home galaxy, so I thought for a second you were from there."
forgot to add an image of what the ship looks like, oops! fixed. :3
"Ah, no it is quite alright." Frowning he looks away, towards his ship, and then back to Ben. Seems they have similar taste in color choice. And, from what little he can smell through the mask, the Igaean desire to reach out in spite of the danger wars with him.
"I have visited a few different galaxies, so there is a very small chance that I have passed through yours.
"But-- please forgive my bluntness. My cells have a contagious quality that is all too eager to permanently mutate those I come into direct contact with, so long as they are organic beings in nature with more complexity than a plant. My attire keeps it contained, but additional distance is safer since it is not the type to include its own oxygen supply. Especially while I am continuing to try to find a method to... nullify that quality. But I really... don't..."
His whole body is tense, ready to bolt at a second's notice, as if he's all too certain he doesn't belong here at all.
"...Ah. I'm... Glenn Sparks. From Neo-Earth."
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Ben's aware that there are worlds where humans have achieved space travel and moved beyond their homeworld. He wonders if Earth is where humans back in his galaxy originally came from, forgotten long ago.
"Neo-Earth? So you aren't from Earth proper? Earth isn't my homeworld, so I'm in the minority of human beings here."
While he's hardly an expert on Earth, he's only been there a few times, Ben can't help but be interested. He's learned about Earth culture during his time in the Nexus as a hobby. It's interesting and gives him something calming to do.
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He shifts a little from foot to foot. It's easier to talk about this than acknowledge how similar Ben's issues are to his own. Part of him wonders, with awe, in regards to the similarities, while the rest of him wishes it were socially acceptable to run and hide.
"...But I have not been there since I left over two-hundred years ago. I am uncertain what has changed and what has stayed the same since."
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Ben's never sure how to bring up the fact that he was an infamous space tyrant and warlord. It's not something that usually comes up in polite conversation, especially since he's not proud of it at all. He doesn't want to frighten people, especially strangers.
"Sol system. The galaxy I came from doesn't have a system by that name, though I can't imagine we've found every planet there. My homeworld was Chandrila."
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"Chandrila. I like the sound of it." Meaning literally. The name itself sounds kind of like a chime when spoken. It's nice.
"Honestly, the word 'sol' just means 'sun'. Even our moon is named 'luna', which means 'moon'. Our names are not that original. But they were named so ages ago."
A beat, as he considers things.
"...Regarding your personal choices in the past, it is not my place to judge you. But... if you want to be... friends.. I think we can arrange that. If you really want to."
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Ben has lived in the Nexus for about a year, though it feels like it's been longer. A lot has changed since then, and he's sure there are more changes ahead in the future. Good or bad, it's nice to have a future to look forward to at all.
"Then I'd like to be friends." Ben considers, then nods. "It's not my place to judge much of anyone. Welcome to the Nexus, Glenn. You've got a beautiful ship." Ben's got an eye for spacecraft, and knows good craftsmanship when he sees it. "I haven't flown one in a long time, though a friend here gave me one as a gift."
He hasn't even named it yet, though he isn't used to naming his personal ships - since it's his, though, and he's abandoned the military lifestyle, he just might. He doesn't want to use the ship Misfire gave him for war.
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He simply accepts it, nodding once.
"The name for it is the Morpho. After the iridescent blue butterfly on my world. It was a gift from my late fiancée. We wanted to travel together."
He regards the vessel thoughtfully.
"I have been using this ship for about two-hundred and forty years now. None of the parts are really original anymore."
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Ben doesn't have many pleasant memories, but he clings hard to the ones there are. That's one of them, foggy and half-formed though it may be.
He closes his eyes when Glenn mentions that his fiancee is dead, presumably. "That was a good gift she gave you, and I'm sure she'd be pleased that you're taking such good care of it."
When Glenn mentions the age of the ship, he listens to the explanation, interested.
"I have a ship here, though I don't travel with it. There hasn't really been any need to."
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"It is good to have the option to travel if you need to. But, because I am distracted... do you remember how the butterflies looked in your memory? I would like to draw them. Is 'right now' an okay time?"
He lifts his sketchpad up a bit in emphasis.
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Ben smiles, a little more than last time, and with this one teeth show.
"Yes, I can help you draw them. Are you collecting the image through telepathy or would you rather I give you a description?"
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"Verbal would be good. Or you can draw it on my pad and I can interpret it that way." Cheering up a little, he goes on, "Also 'force-sensitive'? What's that? Another term for telepathy?"
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Ben pulls out his own pad to draw on for Glenn.
"I'm what's called Force-sensitive where I come from. It's complicated, but the Force is a kind of energy field in my world that connects all living creatures, and certain people are very sensitive to it. Telepathy's one of the abilities it gives me, but there are others."
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"I do not believe my world has something like that. Not in a way I can perceive, anyway."
Looking very, very closely, Glenn's fingers itch to draw.
"I did not bring any color with me, but it is aboard my ship. Grayscale will have to do for now."
He thinks a moment.
"Ah! Can you use telepathy to convey pictures? Is that why you asked? I assumed you were asking if I could use telepathy."
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Ben concentrates, trying to project the image of a crystal butterfly into Glenn's mind. They're delicate creatures with shining blue wings, a lot like Earth butterflies.
He was very young then, so he doesn't remember much of the story - but he never forgot how beautiful the insects were, and the way they seemed to like him.
As much as he's changed, he wouldn't mind seeing them again.
"There are equivalents to the Force, in other universes. Maybe it's a kind of magic, but I don't see it that way."
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Megatron's on his way to the portals to go back to the Lost Light when he sees the familiar spacecraft. He can't help looking rather concerned, although he notes that Glenn is fully suited up.
"I thought we decided we were going to meet on Sanctuary Station, after I talked to Soundwave about it, not here. I haven't had a chance to speak to him yet, and I can't just show up when he's not there, I'll get shot at and sent to the Autobots in a box. Is something wrong? Are you all right?"
He feels extremely conflicted. He cares about Glenn, but the Nexus is his home now, even though he's still going back and forth to finish the mission, and also in the hope of figuring things out with Minimus. There was a time when he might have been able to take Glenn to the Embassy, even though he himself no longer qualifies as a Decepticon--but not now. Not with Lotor and Ben and Terrible Dactyl there.
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"I have visited countless planets that are equally susceptible to me, and each time, I have left those planets without spreading my condition. And I have even interacted with different races for a prolonged period, and still not inflicted anyone with the contagion. I even checked their cells. Unless I take off my suit, they are safe. There was even a time where my cells were the most volatile, in my youth, and I never infected my mother with my cells, in spite of doing so many things that would guarantee exposure to it."
Glenn's gaze hardens, but there's definitely some fear in there.
"When we spoke, I-- was predominantly just worried about losing your friendship. I could think of little else but-- appeasing you, and... was afraid to acknowledge my own personal experiences on the matter, in case it conflicted with your world view, and... I h-hate disappointing people."
He shudders, but manages to briefly look Megatron in the eye. Even though his hands and knees are shaking. His voice strains from the sharp surge in his emotions, keeping as calm as he can be without shouting.
"I am t-treating this place with both care and distance. Just like I've treated other places for the past two and a half centuries. I w-won't be infecting anyone here, period. J-just because... you're rightfully scared, and have the information I have told you regarding it, d-doesn't mean that you have lived with this shit your whole life. I get it. I really, really do. Why else do you think I have so soundly isolated myself? I'm fucking terrified I'll hurt someone again! Physically, mentally, and biologically!"
Although he looks like he's about to burst into tears, he still holds his ground. Even so, he looks away, not wanting to be perceived as using his emotions against anyone. Even when he thought he was stoic as can be, he's always been rather expressive. Even as he speaks, his voice cracks.
"I'm s-sorry for going back on my word. Just... please. Please trust that I know what I'm doing. Know that your fear of me spreading my condition has been my waking nightmare almost as long as I have been alive. That I am taking absolutely every precaution possible. Because I love people so much, and as equally, wholly, and completely as I loathe myself."
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He ex-vents heavily, wincing as if that one single word struck him right through the spark.
"I am aware that you are observing quarantine protocol. I have not even raised my voice to you. I am simply concerned. Not just about this world, not just about this place, not just about my lover and his family, but also...about you. I thought there might be some kind of emergency, because otherwise, I thought, you'd have let me know that you'd changed your mind?"
He winces. "I know I can be terrifying in person, but we were texting. Do I need to start using...emoji?"
He looks a little perturbed at that notion.
"I hope not."
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There's no immediate indication that he's even heard his friend's words, with his mouth struggling to form them in kind over the persistent, loud noises in his own mind.
Some part of him nearly pipes up that, 'yes, emoji would be very helpful to me!' but seeing Megatron's perturbed look makes guilt tear right through him.
Still-- as he finally processes things, which takes a bit, but he does, even with the feelings of shame clobbering him.
"I-I'm sorry. I.. have trouble perceiving... tone.. through text. Without... the occasional.. emoji."
He feels like he's about to choke on his own throat. He reaches up to firmly rub at it to try to soothe the feeling away, but it's not abating. The gesture of it might otherwise appear to be that of actual choking in itself for most humans.
"People.. don't.. have to raise their voices.. for me to hear what isn't there."
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Megatron sighs.
"That's the problem. You're hearing what isn't there. I'm not about to say that I don't have an anger management problem sometimes, but I'm not having it now. I feel like I should apologise, but I'm not exactly sure what I would be apologising for."
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Heart feeling like it might finally start to calm, he also notices that his muscles aren't trembling as much, too.
"I am sorry. For perceiving what wasn't there, for mentally putting words in your mouth that you never said. I will... endeavor to ask you first if I am uncertain. Even if it makes me feel like a burden for inquiring on what must be obvious to most."
He fidgets a little. His suit stretches as he makes a tentacle pick up his sketchpad and pencil, the appendage coiling deftly around both. He holds the pad towards his chest somewhat defensively, feeling exposed and uncertain, but less likely to cry. he makes an effort to make eye contact, irises flickering to Megatron's optical color.
"I appreciate your... your impressive patience with me. And I am sorry for causing you worry."
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Megatron ex-vents. "How about this: I apologise for frightening you. I'll try not to do it again, if you will try to remember that we're friends."
Then he thinks for a moment about Loki's tiny son Eindred. And Cricket's pet, Willie. And realises he actually has managed to turn off the 'I AM LORD MEGATRON, TREMBLE BEFORE ME' field that he managed to pick up during his years as one of the two driving forces of the war that nearly tore the galaxy to bits.
"But I don't think it's all me. Little children and tiny animals aren't even scared of me, lately. I'll put up with cute animations in my texts, and...you'll try to be less easy to spook than a Lillipup?" He holds his hands just far enough apart to hold the pup, if she were present.
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But being confused about the name of the creature isn't the point, he realizes.
"...Yeah. I'll-- I'll make the effort to get to that point. Even I know that's just... the starting block."
Every day he lives in fear like this, and then every day gets even more exhausting than the last.
But he can't help but ask, "What's a Lillipup?"
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He projects the image of the creature from his optics into the space between his hands.
"I'm not making fun of you; I'm genuinely concerned about your stress level. Also, she's cute, and maybe seeing her will make you feel better.
"Her name was Willie, and she climbed right up on top of my foot, and bonked my hand with her head when she thought I wasn't petting her enough."
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Glenn takes a moment to process the concept of being near anyone. Even an adorable creature like Willie.
"...This isn't going to make your concern go away; I do not recall a time where I have been without stress in really any capacity."
Even with Clara, he still felt stress regarding his circumstances, and trying to navigate the world without her even when she was alive. He's been alive long enough to know that he has no idea what being without stress, or less stress, even feels like.
There's no doubt that he likely requires professional help, even in his own mind. But when he was alone, the only person it affected was himself. And the majority of himself that believes he deserves it was just fine with it.
Even involving himself with one person, like this, really makes his issues stand out. And further still, what would he be like after managing all these things? Would the current him fade away?
"Willie seems amazing."
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Megatron shrugs.
"There are people in my universe who want to kill me really badly and I know that whether or not I actually deserve to die, I certainly deserve their hatred. And I still go back there because I have a mission to finish.
"I'm very happy with the person I love, but I'm still learning how and where I fit into my lover's family, and I'm afraid they won't all like me, or... I don't know.
"I'm worried about the friends of mine who took over a political movement I started and completely fouled up and I don't understand why they don't just start over and call it something else that's not associated with all the carnage.
"I have stress in my life...but I'm able to hear what people are actually saying to me, and see what's in their faces. Which is important for you too...because you need to be able to tell the difference between a real threat and your own insecurities."
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That said, he's trying to hear what Megatron is actually saying. Part of him wonders if feeling unheard is false on his head. If he's actually heard and just not seeing it.
Maybe he's blinded. If so, how can he remove that obstacle? Because it's obvious that something is clear to Megatron that's shrouded for him, and maybe he's just all the more flawed for it.
He's also not sure how to respond, either. It doesn't sound like something to reply to.
"May have heard you with some mistakes," he eventually admits. "Trying to read between the lines in instinct. But I am doing my best to hear you as you are."
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"I'm not sure you should be trying to read between the lines. It's the things you've imagined me saying that have scared you, not the things I actually said."
He shrugs. "You're the only member of your species I have ever met and I'm good at reading your field when I'm touching you, but that's not possible right now. I can't distance-read you at all, because you are the only member of your species I have ever met. You're not human, and if I let my instincts take charge, they decide you're a sapient turbofox."
At that, he smiles wryly. "I know a sapient turbofox, although he doesn't know that I know he's a turbofox. The two of you are very, very different beings. I don't think viewing your actions through that particular lens would be wise."
(For just a moment, he looks over his shoulder. Minimus has been in the Nexus, and it would be just his luck if Minimus walked into this conversation and heard him discussing sapient turbofoxes, with a garnish of 'how did you get off the ship and why are you here?' Fortunately, his luck does not appear to be ruling this encounter. There is not a turbofox, sapient or otherwise, watching them talk.)
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He will probably find the woman approaching his ship, or at least the long sheer dress might cue other species into a female presence. She walks silently in the cold, unbothered by it, in fact it feels good. As an Anthean she is close to seven feet tall and delicately slender in a way that doesn't seem possible for a human frame. Her movements are fluid and while they are slow her long limbs mean that she transverses space quickly. There are other non human characteristics. Her whole eyes are bright yellow with snake like slit pupils and the eyelids transparent, she has small fangs, lacks fingernails, and her skin so pale it seems translucent. Her hair is also bright red and falls well past her waist which could be human but her brows and lashes are the same bright color. Her presence brings with it a peaceful, quiet, calm that may be be comforting or unnerving as it settles onto the space.
Truth is the ship is what attracted her attention and she hadn't noticed him at first. Her eyes turn on him slowly though she isn't reading him with any mental abilities she can see the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Looking at anyone new takes time to process.
"Of your steps or mine?" She asks politely though curious about why distance is demanded. Her species thrives on closeness.
[She's an alien. Her profile is here and that of her species is here]
Thanks for the info! :D
"Ah. Mine. I simply do not want to spread my condition to others. I am quite certain that my suit is sufficient in guarding others from me at the moment, but... Just want to take some time and measurements to make sure."
He's already waiting for results, but if he's just out and about away from people, it's fine.
If nothing else beyond his unusual body, such as heartbeat and the like, it's that he's completely covered in black from neck to toe. Even his black hair seems strange compared to humans, comprised of fur-like strands mixed with soft bird feathers.
Seeing her appearance, even her height, Glenn doesn't flinch.
"Beg pardon, I am not in your way, am I?"
[ooc: Glenn's info (however slapdash it is and needs tidying) can be found here, as well as in the comments~]
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"You're unwell?" Her voice is neutral but concern and worry fill in the ambiance. It's her species norm, the quiet empathy sharing the emotions others did with thier voice.
She shakes her head slowly, one of the many gestures she picked up from her human husband. "I saw the ship. Vehicles aren't common here so I came to see."
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Seth was clutching his own sketch pad under his arm and slung on his shoulder was a leather satchel containing all his artist's supplies. Usually his oil paints, small portable canvases, pastels, pencils and whatever else he happened to be carrying at the time. He wasn't really looking where he was going as such since he had exploration on his mind and he often got caught up on that. The Wilds were a familiar haunt for Seth.
"I didn't see you there. Please forgive me."
The polite Victorian offered the younger man a polite nod and a tip of his hat. If anyone would view him they would see that he was a man out of time. From a bygone age.
[This is Balthazar's vessel, Seth. Who's info can be found here.
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"Ain't trying to run you off or anything, I just wanted you to know you're out pretty far from the Plaza, the AV field is kinda weak out here and y'might get hurt if you ain't careful."
Obligingly, he takes a few steps back. "The barometer's droppin' some, so if you ain't prepared for storms, you should think about it. Might just be a cold rain this time, but snow's coming, I promise you that. You new here?"
[ooc: had to drop in; his ears were ringing. *squints upthread at Megs*]