re_alignment_logs | [ closed ]

Entry tags:

[ closed ]

WHO: IDW!Perceptor and Drift
WHERE: Near Solus's Temple
WHEN after this thread
WHAT: a long, long overdue talk
WARNINGS: angst and awkward??

The entire affair with Hal was distressing to say the least, just another symptom of Perceptor's fraying nerves. Any other time and he would have surveyed the area more carefully, done a more thorough sweep, avoided such a terrible, messy accident. But he didn't. He rushed. He was sloppy. So intent on the comforting routine of target practice that he skipped the most important steps.

He was quietly mortified--he who was always so precise, so thorough. Losing his edge.

And Drift... There was an another issue entirely. It was Perceptor's fault they'd barely managed to carry on a civil conversation, Perceptor's fault he'd been so curt, so cool. The blame rested solely on him and his inane drive to do everything himself, by himself.

You can't do everything on your own, Perceptor.

Yet here he was, trying to do exactly that. Falling back on old habits. Lost in this strange, new, unfamiliar Cybertron and trying desperately to avoid seeming, above all else, weak. Useless.

Perceptor stopped, just outside Solus's temple, head down and hands clenched on empty air at his sides. He had to stop this. Drift was-- Drift was important. He had to stop this before his own idiocy drove away one of the few good things he had going for him. He ex-vented hard, carefully schooling his expression into something close to it's standard neutral, then commed Drift.

"Drift? I'm here."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was probably an inauspicious place to meet, you know, Solus's temple. Drift has spent far more time there than he liked. He almost wished for the days of the Red Rust, when he could wander the Junk Pile.

Then again, Wing would probably argue that this was the best place for it: a place of healing.

He didn't answer, right away. He was feeling his own nerves, at how badly he'd botched, well, every meeting they've had here. But he moved, instantly, toward the main doors. He wanted to talk with Perceptor. He just didn't want to mess it up.

He stepped through the door, trying his hardest not to look like he'd run there--which he had. And then words failed him again.

"....hey."

And there he is. Perceptor immediately stands a little straighter, doing his best not to look like he'd just stood around trying to school himself into a presentable state. It's a little ridiculous, how he's worked himself up over something so apparently simple.

Perceptor manages a smile, small but sincere.

"Hello, Drift. How are you feeling?"

At this point he's almost desperate for a normal conversation with Drift, one where he doesn't mess it up somehow.

Perceptor should remember, Drift has seen him in a worse state, hanging in a regen tank. Anything that shows Perceptor is better than that is a good sight to see.

His smile is slightly better, less strained, though perhaps a little on the manic edge of nerves.

"I'm...," good? Not entirely true, and banal. He'd tell anyone that.

Perceptor isn't just anyone. At least, he hopes not.

"....tired of being in the Medibay, honestly." He really, really is.

The honesty is nice, helping reassure him that he's on at least somewhat familiar footing here. That Drift hasn't closed him off.

"That invitation to join us at target practice is still open, if you're up for it."

Even after the accident with Hal, Perceptor knows he'll be returning to the impromptu shooting range, likely with Vandal in tow, relatively soon. It's his main stress relief here in this bizarre situation they've all found themselves in.

"It would be nice to... see more of you."

No sooner have the words left his mouth than he's internally wincing, hoping he isn't being too heavy-handed.

Some things never change: Drift is a terrible patient. Drift leans against the doorway, trying to look like he's not nervous.

"It's been a while since I held a gun. You might be able to outshoot me." He tries a wink, a small one, just to make sure Perceptor knows it's a joke. He'd been good with a gun, in close quarters. But Perceptor was more than good.

But at least that sort of macho bragging was (hopefully) familiar and harmless.

He smiles, entirely misinterpreting the second statement. He thinks you're being shy, not worried that you're overstepping. "You don't ever need an excuse to contact me, Perceptor." His smile falters. "I thought you'd know that."

That earns a larger smile, a little more confident, and his posture relaxes slightly.

"It would be interesting to see. When you're up for it, we could always swing by the junk pile and find out?"

It's easier to joke like this, although Perceptor can't help but feel slightly out of his element still. He shifts slightly, suddenly unsure again.

"I. Seem to be excelling at putting my foot in my mouth recently. I apologize."

"I'm always up for it."

His turn to cringe, because that sounded like a come on. Not that he didn't want to, just that it was a little...strong. Drift will find the floor fascinating for a few moments, and maybe Perceptor's feet. Don't mind him.

He offers a wry smile, optics still averted. "I think we both have." He sighs. "Perceptor. What happened? I mean...us." Because he hates this tense awkwardness between them. He much preferred, despite the death that surrounded them, Cybertron and the Swarm, that easy friendly trust.

"Then it would be a pleasure to have you."

He would be eager for more company in the impromptu range he and Vandal had more or less cobbled together, particularly if said company was Drift.

The question, though, hits him like a slap to the face. It's the big question, that one that has been hanging over his head for some time now. The question he isn't certain he has a decent answer for.

"I'm not sure the issue is entirely capable of being neatly summarized or quantified. I'm sure numerous factors, both external and internal, are to blame, but..."

He falters, painfully aware of just how pathetic his response is.

"I would like to put a stop to it. I have missed you."

Drift looks up, the smile shy and offering. "Me too. To both." He wants to stop this awkwardness between them and he has missed Perceptor.

If Perceptor feels pathetic, Drift can join him in the nearby district of pathetic but also inarticulate.

He elbows himself off the wall, stepping closer. Not too much, not too far, he hopes. "Can I ask what you remember? Of back home?" Maybe that's a step, at least, to reconnect them. He hopes.

"The last thing I can recall is being on board the Lost Light. Before that..."

Well, before that? Perceptor could fill several texts on everything they'd been through. He can't help but grin a little, looking back on it all--particularly all that time with the Wreckers, with Drift.

"That's a lot history."

"I remember Delphi. Or at least part of it. I thought I died there but apparently not." A rueful sort of shrug. He tends to almost-die a lot. It's a bad habit and one reason he tries to keep himself a little apart.

He shakes it off. "Yes. A lot of history. But you can be free of that here, if you want."

Perceptor's expression falters.

"I couldn't do that. Too much happened for me to leave it behind."

Both good and bad, but nothing that he'd want to give up. Everything that happened, all the ties he'd formed, he couldn't put that behind him like it never happened.

"Is this a fresh start for you?"

"We don't have to leave it behind, at least...not all of it." His smile looks a bit sheepish after a moment, as if his implication was too forward. "In a way, maybe that's why we're here. To bring those histories, and the lessons from them, here."

"I'm not sure I believe in fresh starts anymore. Not entirely. But it's a chance to do right what we know we did wrong before."

"I think that's a good way to look at it. It's not so much a fresh start as it is an opportunity to continue forward with greater knowledge, knowing how to be better at... Well. Nearly everything."

Perceptor has a lot of faith in learning from mistakes--it's become a large part of who he is, changing from how he once was--and the idea of having a chance to apply all that, surrounded by both strangers and familiar faces, is a little exciting.

"It's... interesting to find ourselves in a situation such as this. Few would have the same chances. I think we're lucky." He pauses, then chuckles awkwardly. "It's another chance to work together, if nothing else. That's a positive, I would think."

His smile grew a bit bolder. "And how to make Cybertron better as a result. And maybe when we go home, we can take these lessons there." Because they will go home, they have to.

Drift desperately wants to believe in learning from one's mistakes. More than that, he wants to do something good, unadulterated and pure. It would be nice to have one act like that on his conscience.

He nods. "Lucky, yes. I could have died here without help. It's like I was spared for a reason." Or two, but he bites that idea back, still trying to keep himself a bit aloof, in case his attentions aren't wanted.

"It is good to work with you again. Under more hopeful circumstances this time."

"I'm not sure what I would have done if you had died. I only wish I could have been of more use."

Drift is... important, to say the least. On the most obvious level, Drift is his friend, someone who saved his life, someone he fought alongside for longer than Perceptor cares to date. It goes a little deeper than that, but... that's getting into complicated territory. The fact Perceptor had learned of his illness late, and then been unable to do anything, still weighed heavily on him.

"We have a much more optimistic situation to work with than in our previous exploits, to say the least." Minus the monsters, which Perceptor had apparently just managed to miss.

"And you--we--don't seem short of new companions. Vandal seems very fond of you, as does Wing."

Drift gives a bit of a squirm. He's never going to be comfortable with people worrying about him. Even Perceptor, who he's trusted with his life before.

"You're more than what your 'use' is, Perceptor." His optics burn, perhaps a little too earnestly, for a klik before he adds, softly. "I'm really glad you're here. And Vandal and Wing." Maybe a little twitch like a wink. If you want to go there, you've been more than 'useful' to them, too.

"We do, but I wish we had a clearer mission here. With the others, we had our goal, the Knights. Here...I can't shake there's something these First Forged aren't telling us."

"It can be a little hard to remember that, sometimes." Like when those he care about are in danger and he can't do anything to help.

"I'm happy that all three of you are here, even if I've only just met Vandal and Wing. I'm... particularly happy to see you here, if I might admit to be selfish for a moment." Yep, definitely suddenly interested in something off in the distance.

"Perhaps our mission here is to discover exactly what it is the First Forged are up to. Beings that powerful, with such a clean slate and a gathering from every universe imaginable? I can't help but think something is going on."

"I'll help you practice." He flashes a bright smile. It's good to see you happy, and he's finally feeling the worried tension melt from his frame. It was probably all in his head all along, the strange tension between them. He likes it better this way. A lot.

"_{I don't think it's selfish}." Or if it is, he's equally guilty. And they cancel each other out.

He nods. "We're here, marked by them, each of us. There has to be something they're not telling us." The smile fades to a frown. He doesn't want to say it aloud, it feels like a betrayal of what Vector had done to help him when he arrived, but this is Perceptor. He can trust him with anything. "I don't fancy being pawns in another war."

Perceptor is rarely visibly happy, usually hidden behind a cold facade of indifference, but now? Now he's smiling. Relaxed. A little bashful. He'd almost forgotten that Drift was one of the few mechs he was able to feel comfortable enough with to let that all slip out.

Even when discussing the First Forged his smile remains, although it takes on a wry edge.

"I only wish that they would be more... open in their purpose and motivations. It feels strange to live in the home of someone I barely know."

Perceptor has managed to avoid all contact with Liege Maximo, a fact he isn't sure if he's pleased with. The First Forged as a whole are strangers to him, and his level of trust toward them is... nearly nonexistent. His hand, rather thoughtlessly, ends up on the glyph on his arm, idly stroking the strange symbol.

"I can't help but feel like we're on the edge of some great conflict, somehow, no matter how congenial some of the First Forged have been."

Drift is so glad for that smile. He edges a little closer, just to be nearer to it.

"It does. And they stay out of our way until we need something but it seems the acolytes, at least, are always watching."

His optics follow the tracing fingers, his own brushing at his own glyph.

"Vector did imply there might be a moment I'd have to repay his favor," Drift muses, frowning.

"I'm sure there's something they want from us, otherwise they would not be as tolerant of our presence."

Of course this makes Perceptor wary, but the worst part is the general feeling of helplessness that comes with it. He knows something is going on, but there's nothing he can do about it. It's unpleasant. Perceptor is quiet for a moment, then sighs.

"I'm sure we will find out what, exactly, is going on in due time. Until then we can focus on getting by as best we can."

Drift sighs. "Maybe they're as surprised as we are, though. Maybe they didn't expect us to show up at all, and are, well, still trying to figure out what to do with us."

"Just like...," his optics float to the bulk of the Temple behind him, "just like some of us are trying to figure out what to do with them. Thing is...why these Temples? Why the palaces? You don't have a temple unless you expect to be worshipped and you don't have an unreachable palace unless you expect power."

It seemed bizarre, just a bunch of overly ornate edifices plonked down in the middle of nowhere, on the edges of junk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ closed ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

ffffuuuuu notif fail

no subject

no subject