| abstract | - Murusa waits just on the outskirts of sub -Crystal City, standing under one of the dimly lit light posts some 50 yards from one of the entrances to location. Her yellow optics scan the tunnel to the west and east, figuring her contact will come from either of those directions rather from the south. The buzz of a low-flying chopper buffets the tunnels from the east. The acoustics all but drown out Hyperblast's mumbling. "Twenty clicks. Low power..." Hyperblast bursts into the open air as soon as he leaves the exit. No flier relishes tunnel travel, right? The grey hover ship, in its flattened profile seems, at least, as optimized for it as can be expected. Optical sensors on his underside whirl around, pinpointing... "Jackknife didn't mention that part." He transforms and whirrs down to a landing in front of the guard. "Fits the description... Are you Murusa?" Murusa hears him before she spots him, waiting until he comes close and asks that, "I am indeed." she smiles a hint, leaning on her guard issue spear slightly. Hyperblast takes a few plodding steps nearer. "I am Hyperblast." He motions to the Autobot symbol on his chest, "One of our newer recruits directed me to find you here for..." He trails off rather abruptly and tilts his face up, staring down the plates that might be his nose. "But he didn't mention you were one of the Guard. I would hope that my presence isn't interfering with your duty?" Murusa inclines her head, then tries the language on him he came here. Straight and to the point. It's been awhile since she spoke it herself, of course, other than outside of the Temple. "I am off duty, worry not." Hyperblast's optics practically glimmer -- his wings rise slightly in surprise. His ancient Cybertronian comes out rather stilted, but he makes up for it in quantity of words. "Then I will not. Middle era? Before the split -- yes or no? I'm understanding they taught you in the temple? How many vorns?" He loops one arm around to actually pull one of said wings back down. "I am closer to a source, here. Forgive me." Murusa listens carefully to the words he offers back, nodding slightly, "Stilted, but with practice you'd have it down pat in no time at all." each syllable and consonant comes out of her with no effort, simple yet beautiful the language of old, but limited in some contexts. "Before it. I learned it as I frequented the Temple when the hierophant at the time had the texts in the old written language and he spoke it. I still speak it at Temple when I pray." Hyperblast takes another few steps closer and crouches, his thick legs sort of folding in on themselves, presumably to hear better. He makes a gasping sound as if about to speak, then turns his head to the side, glaring intently at some otherwise uninteresting house. "Fish out of water," he says, trying to mimic the clarity of Murusa's speech, but it would seem he had to think on it. His attention -- now again glimmering with sparkling-like fascination -- returns to Murusa with a deep chuckle. And now he returns to modern Cybertronian with enthusiasm. "This temple -- your temple is sitting on a gem. How pure, how old is the script you know? How many permutations are acknowledged? Or is it its own language by now?" His head and veil attached moves slowly from side to side. "Practice, I vouch for it myself, but we hardly know what we're practicing, so often. In the Academy." Murusa's head doesn't crane as much as you get down more to a level her neck can tolerate. She smiles in thanks and nods slightly to his words, "Relax, I won't correct you unless I have to Hyperblast. You are taking on a language your generation does not get to hear unless they happen to know someone my age and older." she states, then a thoughtful look, "I have the text I read over if you'd like to see the writing and determine the age based on the writing and context upon which it is written. I believe only the monastery monks speak it anymore, and even then they may have some alteration that they speak with the monastery itself." All this is spoken in the language, if nothing else so you can hear it from the vocals of someone who spoke it for time in the more peaceful times of the planet." she nods, now speaking in the modern dialect. "I wish I knew how to answer the permutations question, I was gone for many vorns on a mission off world." A monastic Cybertronian... Crystal City guard, for that matter, off world? "Why?" is the first thing Hyperblast manages to blurt out, now back in the ancient tongue. "I mean no disrespect," he is quick to correct. But he shifts uneasily, perhaps unsure how to form an apology or clarification better than that. "I accept with gratitude. The monks'..." His optics glower with intense frustration for a few ticks before he adds the word "dialect" in current speaking, "... would be useful alone. Even if there are corruptions. Excuses to practice are always, always few. Few see the point now." And finally, back to modern again. "I do, of course, Murusa." He makes a revelational finger-snap with one thin hand, "Seeing, reading, thinking you know the past is one thing. Speaking -- becoming it is another." Murusa smiles a bit to the question, "Simple. I retired from construction and joined the private security sector after graduating from the retraining academy. I took a job with scientists that went off world. They needed the protection." she hmms softly though to monks and corruption being used in the same sentence. "I believe the Hierophant may argue with you there." stated simply without a judgment attached. She reaches into her subspace to pull out a old data pad which he activates gently, then offers it to you. "One must make an excuse to practice, to seek out knowledge, to better oneself. Primus gave us that sort of free will." then a nod, "Don't dream it, be it hm?" Hyperblast gently takes the data pad and lifts it to viewing distance, scanning over it with hungry optics. "That is not the word I would've liked to use. It has connotations, both new and old, but that proves my point. The moment you speak words, be it in my words, your words, Cubicron dialect which they tried to pawn on us as another language group altogether ... the moment you start talking, and someone else starts hearing, they start defining the meaning." He looks at Murusa over the brim of the tablet. "It's a subtle process, it adds up over hundreds of vorns -- Even with the most strict of purity regimen. A dictionary is worthless once no mech can read it, a lexicon useless, fading to meaningless when no one remains to use it." Finally, he taps the data pad, innocently adding, "What is this?" Murusa states, "Words have meanings just as much as how you stand, where the hands are, the balance of the hips, the brightening or dimming of the optics.. all those have meanings and lend more validity to the words being spoken. However, even a well meaning individual can speak the most eloquent statement and be taken completely wrong." she raises a hand from her spear to gesture to the tablet you hold, "It's the Words of Primus himself, Hyperblast, those first spoken to the original Cybertronians and written down a generation later. At least that is what the old Hierophant said when I was still young enough to believe anything my elders said." "Hmmm." His optics return to the text. "Then perhaps there is something sacred in word as it is dictated." Hyperblast's tone is ... warm, even amused. He taps away on the pad, moving through what data that is there. "Don't let me pry, but do you doubt, Murusa? Your Hierophant, Primus, someone else?" Murusa watches you read over the ancient words that speak as if Primus himself spoke words to those ancient forebears. Whether it was truth though who really knows, perhaps enough truth is there that it's believable at any rate. "Ones words are sacred if they are offered in reverence to the creator or to the one that you love, Hyperblast. Words spoken in reverence or love are to be said truthfully, honestly, from one's very core essence.. from the spark if you like." she smiles a bit, "I do not doubt the Hierophant nor Primus. But yes, I have doubts none the less." Hyperblast gets out a data chip from his subspace and begins duplicating the files. "Words offered, not necessarily words spoken. There are legions of mechs who would speak of love or reverence but know neither. In fact, we're all a bit guilty of that, I would posit." He finishes and removes the chip. "Not that I can particularly peer-review such a sentimental concept, but I'm sure you've seen enough to get my meaning. Or some meaning." Murusa nods her head to that, "I speak my truths, whether or not someone wishes to hear them. At my age there needs to be no hiding behind double meanings." she smile seeing you copying the stuff over to read over and study later. "I am of the few that speak of love and reverence and know them both, feel them both. Sentimental, perhaps. But when love comes late in one's life, you learn to enjoy the sentimental side of things." You last paged Hyperblast. "Nothing particularly wrong with that. It's just hard to put numbers on." Hyperblast lowers the data pad, offering it ack. "Bluntness is a color to meaning in itself, and that's before you take in the historical inevitability of others perceiving it as a cover. But I believe you know that, as well, Murusa." One set of fingers strums against his knee. "You said we're given the will to make excuses, right? But I'm afraid I don't have the resources. The professors are swamped, the elders, rightly occupied." A more humble tone from the Autobot? Maybe not, it all falls in line. "Do you know others that speak this? Diverse others, maybe? Can I, in my right mind, even ask one of the Crystal City for tutoring?" The last sentence is pockmarked by amused snorts. Murusa nods, "I know that, yes." she agrees, "And we were given will to do anything, including making excuses. Some valid, some downright selfish." the hint of a smile only progressing at the next questions. "Yes I do. And yes you can." taking back the data pad and putting it back into her subspace. "You could speak with Protofire. Xaaron, he's even older than me, and associates with the Autobots closely. I do believe Kup is still knocking about the planet somewhere." she pauses, thinking, "There's Weldbond as well. Other than those few that I have run into since coming back home.. I am sorry to inform you that the elders have given way to the youth of your generation.. fading into the background to be forgotten." "Protofire... Xaaron, I'm aware of. I'll keep an optic in the sky out for Kup. Though I can't say I'm familiar with a Weldbond?" Hyperblast unbends his legs, rising to his full height. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I can hardly blame you," he sighs. "In that case, is it agreeable for me to return here a decacycle from now to review?" The turbines on his shoulders roll forward and back ... excitedly? Murusa nods, "Weldbond is a fellow builder of chassis and designer renowned for originality that the old build factories lacked. He's gone into hiding, hard to say where he is now." she notes, "Best to try the first two, Kup may or may not be off world himself." then a nod, "That is acceptable." "I'd guess it's not as hard to say why." Hyperblast looks himself over. "Plenty of ghosts to be found in those factories. You can mill in strength, sleekness, even good design every once in a while, but if the spark's not about it, it's no good to you." It doesn't take a genius to make the logical leap -- he's probably referring to himself. "I'll let them know who sent me. Thanks for offering a sparkling your time, Murusa." With that, his turbines spin up, lifting the mech into the air to transform. He hovers in place before moving off, awaiting any parting words. Murusa nods, "Specters are all around Hyperblast, just have to know how to listen for them." she notes cryptically, "When you get older, you'll hear them more. Right now though, best to enjoy your youth, don't spend too much time on a nearly dead language." she states, then watching him transform, "Ah I know much that, more than you could possibly know. Good cycle, see you in a decacycle." she offers to him, then turns to head back toward Crystal City proper.
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