Once he opened the gates, it was hard to stem the tide of memories. His recollection of a conversation with Overlord just recently worries him most, and he tries to sort out was actually said.

Vandal and then Drift's words penetrate, distracting him, pulling him away from the mass of strange memories. He looks up at the touch to his finial, optics focusing on Vandal. "I...but..."

The sound of his name draws his attention to Drift. It strikes him how fragile Drift looks in this form, but it's a cold irony that Drift is the stalwart one now and Wing fragile beyond measure.

"How can I relax, how can I know we're safe?" His optics flicker unevenly, his thoughts still disjointed, fingers clenching in the dirt again. He can't force them to leave, they're both way too stubborn. He not sure he can keep them safe, and he barely knows who they enemy is anymore. He feels entirely helpless.

....No, this wasn't helping. Wing cycles air deep through his cooling system, trying to put order to this thoughts. He looks up into Drift's eyes for a long moment. Still large and blue despite being human, he's reaching desperately for something external to ground him.