capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

Who: Moonybase and YOU
When: 23 December 2009. 8am - 10pm
Where: Moonybase.
Summary: An open invitation to a party never looked so good. Check your weapons and powers at the door.
Warnings: Probably everything. Please see this post for details.
Format: Whatever works. Don't forget to add your tag.
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Remus had been to enough Christmas parties in his lifetime to know when one would end disastrously, including those that had been specifically dated to avoided interfering with other Christmas plans that the guests might have. This was one of them. But his tolerance had kept him quiet, the happy act of cleaning and decorating taken to as easily as any other task he did.

The twins had also been enlisted to help, given the important task of stringing a length of bright red ribbon and pine up the staircase to the second floor. The soft white lights that followed were magic. In fact, none of the lights, save for whatever lamps or overhead lights that Miles insisted upon, were run by electricity, and many were candles, kept only from setting anything ablaze by a flame-freezing charm.

By the time the morning of the party rolled around, the house looked as if it had been pulled straight out of a Christmas card, Remus borrowing from what he remembered of Christmases as Hogwarts and the Burrow, including a single bit of mistletoe in the entry. The snow helped, piling nicely (if in an oddly organized fashion) outside thanks to a little help from Miles, adding to the image; if nothing else, Remus was happy with it, the certainty that he would wind up having to transfigure another person into some sort of object nagging at the back of his mind.

Tin whistles, toy rocking horses, and sprigs of mistletoe were likely going to be very common later in the evening, he mused, tapping his wand rhythmically against the palm of his hand in thought as he checked everything over once more, walking through the sitting and dining rooms and out into the backyard where the tree house had been built out of ice and wood into the tree there. The floating green structures that Kyle Rayner had promised to provide were still missing, but they would be there soon enough.

He pocketed his wand and walked back into the house, shaking free the snow from his boots, and glancing at the clock. People who had offered their assistance had been asked to come early, which meant that the kitchen was soon going to turn into a madhouse, the extra stove only offering so much help. It also meant he had best make tea before he was banned from the room.

ooc; alkdsjfa you guys are amazing <3 For your convenience, links to the separate comment sections. To keep the death to your bandwidth down a little.

EARLY ARRIVALS: VARIOUS PREPARATIONS
TIMELY ARRIVALS: CHECK YOUR MOTIVES AT THE DOOR
SOCIALIZING FOR FUN AND PROFIT
GO AHEAD! TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL!
I'M GOING TO PISTOL-WHIP THE NEXT GUY WHO SAYS 'SHENANIGANS'
THIS IS WHY MANKIND INVENTED THE 'GUEST BEDROOM'
AND THEN EVERYTHING ELSE HAPPENED HERE
TAKING YOUR TOYS AND GOING HOME

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There will be no argument from Skydive about keeping the cup, and he takes it back, glancing up at Perceptor at the question about his reading.

"It's a biography about Orville and Wilbur Wright, the first two humans who created a working airplane." Skydive pauses, then continues on almost brightly. "The first two credited ones, at least, though that's debatable. It still stands that they made many improvements after their initial success - many, they practically created the basis of modern human flight - and even invented the three-axis control." Yes, Skydive's tone may have taken on a slightly awed tone by the end of his little ramble.

Perceptor smiles as he listens. He understands perfectly - he worked on a few fliers in his time - and it's nice to listen to someone be so pleased.

"Fascinating," he says. "I've found human ingenuity far surpasses my expectations. Indeed, I think many people in my universe were unfairly dismissive."

Wow, three whole sentences. It's a new record.

"They advance very quickly, and sometimes in strange ways," Skydive agrees, and takes another sip of the tea.

And, hey, Perceptor doesn't seem to mind him talking so why not say more?

"...They have their faults, but they also haven't had a war spanning millions of years. Everything's so fast for them, it seems."

He nods in agreement. "Millions of separate, smaller wars; but at least they end..."

And they are so fast. To Perceptor, it's quite dizzying, the idea of an entire race of people developing a civilization within the span of his own lifetime. Humans were barely beginning their first foray into civilization when he came online, and then, at once...

He wondered why, for such a long-lived people, they had such a terrible war. It seemed so senseless to him, and yet he was now perpetuating it.

Because it must end, he thought. I have no choice, now.

"Yes," Skydive says, glancing at Perceptor. "Humans can be needlessly violent, cruel, and sadistic, but their fighting ends." Which meant theirs would, too. There was no two ways about it, really. If humans could do it...

"What do you think of the war?"

The quiet question almost literally came out of nowhere, an uncharacteristic slip that had Skydive blinking almost immediately after he asked it. Then he winced. There were better ways to go about asking a question like that, but he didn't take it back. He'd been wanting to ask someone that for awhile.

Perceptor falls silent, his expression carefully neutral, though there's the slightest tightning around the edges of his eyes. He's silent for a long time before answering.

"Pointless. Needless. Worthless. But they began it. We must finish it, else more worlds will burn before them. A fate no one deserves."

Skydive's eyes narrow a bit in thought as he listens, and he looks toward the floor. That was usually the standard answer, though it was his first time hearing it after seeing what the Decepticons could do. It didn't really change anything, but hearing it helped A bit.

"Right," he says, mostly to himself. Then, shoulders stiffening a bit awkwardly, he looks back toward Perceptor. "Thank you."

"Have you tried stir fry?" That was going to be his favorite subject changing topic.

He didn't respond to the mention of thanks, lost in his own thoughts. The war was a painful subject for him. He hated it, hated that he'd been part of it for as long as he could remember, hated that he'd never even known a life outside war, hated his own people for continuing to perpetuate something so foolish, and hated that this young Autobot here had to be dragged into it as well.

But there was no helping it.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely heard the question, and it took him a moment to register it before he shook his head. No, he hadn't tried stir fry.

Skydive was used to Autobots spacing out on him when he asked questions, and only gives Perceptor a somewhat concerned look before moving on. It was always best not to linger on those subjects.

"Hm. I was taught to cook it a short while ago. Once I'm efficient enough in preparing it, and if you like, I could make it for you?"

As a gift, since that's apparently what you were supposed to do for this holiday, but he doesn't say that.