|
|
Post by Steph on Jul 8, 2012 16:20:57 GMT -5
[Hurr. I'll be using Oakly, my OC. I've been trying to make a bio for her but there are a few traits I have yet to decide. Roleplaying helps me figure this out.]
The metal surface of her face had once shone in the light, it had once let off a gleaming reflection she herself prided herself on. A thick layer of dust and grime now covered the metal. Where there was light, there was now the darkness of the basement. No one had come down here in years, not since Momma's cousin took over all those years ago. Oakly had been powered off, her once bright eyes were black without power, empty. The clothing she had been wearing was now not only dusty but moths had eaten through the fabric in some places. All in all, the once bright robot was now a dismal sight, looking fit for the scrap heap. Even rust was beginning to show at the seams in the metal from so much time spent in the damp basement air.
[.. I have no clue where this is going. So whoever replies can do whatever they want. c:] |
|
|
|
Post by avideon on Jul 8, 2012 17:28:10 GMT -5
[HERE I AM, STEPH]
Oakly was not alone. Though, she would not have known this in her idle state. Hovering over her, a box of tools set beside him, was one Michael Reed. He muttered a few words to the inactive robot as he studied her rusting frame.
“If I could just figure out a way to get you up and running again,” He mumbled. “I could take you back to the manor with me.”
[how do i even do this. WHAT DO.]
|
|
|
|
Post by Steph on Jul 8, 2012 17:54:57 GMT -5
[ Need to give Fionn a reply but there's not much to do when Oakly can't do anything physically. Hurr. XD ]
The robot would have given a reply if she were able. She would have been able if she could hear what was being said. She could have heard what was being said if she was not in a "dead" state. Oakly's current setting wasn't even a sleep mode, it was complete lack of life. A simple switch on the back of her neck would get the electricity to pump through her mechanical body again, though wether she could move or not due to the rust was something still to be discovered. |
|
|
|
Post by avideon on Jul 8, 2012 18:08:32 GMT -5
Michael ran his hand along the back of the robot, pushing her hair out of the way as he did so. His face brightened as he came across a switch located at the very back of her neck.
"Ah, there we go!" Michael smiled as he flipped the switch on.
[i'm going to assume she has hair. :\ ]
|
|
|
|
Post by manatee on Jul 8, 2012 18:19:29 GMT -5
"Most of the a-", just before Nautilus could finish her sentence about the switch in her neck, Mr. Reed found the little thing and some strange noises came out of the other robot.
The automaton tried to focus Oakley with the flashlit, she was holding for Micheal. The whole day she followed and tried to help him now, as Walter told her to.
|
|
|
|
Post by avideon on Jul 8, 2012 18:28:48 GMT -5
"She should be up and running in a little bit," Mr. Reed grinned. "You know, uh. Assuming she still works."
|
|
|
|
Post by manatee on Jul 8, 2012 18:35:12 GMT -5
The automaton gave the other machine a sceptical look. She remembered the first time she was switched on after a view years in offmodus. But she stepped back, that Oakley could stand up and walk, or whatever movement she could to in that condotion.
|
|
|
|
Post by Steph on Jul 8, 2012 20:02:34 GMT -5
Her eyes were the first visible sign of life. They flickered for a moment before they retained their old yellow and red glow. Oakly's mind then began to work. She was awake again. How long had it been..? She raised her head, taking a moment to process what was going on. She couldn't "feel", exactly, but she knew from the amount of effort it required for that action there was some severe rust in her joints. And then she realized she was not alone. Another automaton and a human were in the basement with Oakly. "Hello, can I help you?" the first thing that jumped into her mechanical mind were those words, and they spewed from metal lips. Her voice box was scratchy with disuse and dust, she herself hardly recognized the sound she made.
|
|
|
|
Post by avideon on Jul 8, 2012 20:43:34 GMT -5
"Hey there," Michael greeted the newly awakened robot. "By the sound of that voice box, I'd say you've been asleep for a while. How're you feeling?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Steph on Jul 8, 2012 21:35:09 GMT -5
"Stiff," it was the truth, it was an effort to move her rusted limbs, but it wasn't beyond repair. Her voice was beginning to return with use, the dust flew out of her mouth as she spoke this time, a rather comical puff.
|
|
|
|
Post by manatee on Jul 8, 2012 21:46:56 GMT -5
Nautilus kept the light focused on the dusty face towards her, fascinated by the situation. Suddenly she had an idea of how the archaeologists felt, when they found her in the Titanics wreck!
"We have to bring her to a museum!! She is old and nostalgic, the museum is the right place I think."
Still filled with the feeling of having the final clue about their trip and their discovery, she nodded confirmatory. That's what they did with her, so it seemed the most logical thing to the automaton at the moment.
|
|
|
|
Post by avideon on Jul 8, 2012 22:02:14 GMT -5
"Not quite yet," Michael laughed. "She's still got life in her, see?"
"So, Little Lady-Bot," Michael said to Oakly. "If you think you can stand up and walk at all, we can get you back to Walter Manor and have you fixed up. Are you up for it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Steph on Jul 9, 2012 10:55:35 GMT -5
Was she up for it? That was yet to be discovered. The bot managed to get to her feet, though rather slowly. Everything was slow motion as of now, and there were squeaks of metal painful to the ears as old joints moved for the first time in years. "I'm almost certain I can make it," Now that she was up, nothing could stop Oakly. Even if she was going at a pace that even a turtle would laugh at.
|
|
|
|
Post by manatee on Jul 9, 2012 14:39:40 GMT -5
Nautilus made a mechanical and rattling sigh, until she remembered how impolite this actually was and she muted again. She held the flashlight a bit higher and illumined the dusty ground in front of Oakley feet.
|
|
