re_alignment_logs | I don't rememeber myself, but I still remember you [Closed]

WHO: ~~Optimus Prime~~ Orion Pax, Elita One
WHERE: The junk pile, on the way toward Alpha Trion's temple
WHEN Yesterday/today, not long after Blurr planted his bombs...whoops?
WHAT: Elita runs into Optimus. Who...isn't currently Optimus.
WARNINGS: Some violence, maybe some sads

This world wasn't home, but he had never been so pleased to be in a place that wasn't.

Firstforged. The Thirteen. The creation of Cybertron. Legends and rumor and old tales, long lost to time.

And here he was, able to experience them himself!

Despite his current location - trudging through the junk pile on foot, until he escaped back on to proper roads - Orion Pax couldn't be happier. Waking up in a room he didn't know, around people he didn't know, in a time he didn't know; all forgiven the moment he was told he was within a Temple of Prima. Everything around was a fascination all it's own (again), even the Lambda in the sky shooting junk everywhere.

He was confident he'd get home eventually. He just didn't want it to happen before he'd had his fill of living history.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If anything, his expression turns agonized at the touch. He wanted nothing more than to seek solace from her familiar presence. But it wasn't his Elita, and everything just suddenly seemed so wrong.

"I...yes? Vaguely? That is...where I woke up."

Where he woke up, oblivious that the people he knew in this strange new world were not his own. It is a terrifying realization. But the reminder helped; even if he didn't exactly recall the location he had only spent a small amount of time when first awoken, it was an option.

"I should just. Go."

He took a step back, but not far enough to pull completely out of her grasp. He didn't want this to be real.

"There, yes." She nods in confirmation and then just shakes her helm slowly, managing to keep her own expression collected at the naked and open agony.

There's nothing she can do about that, after all. She can't be who she isn't, unless she suddenly got a spark and memory transplant or something, and really, that wouldn't be much better.

"Thank you for the help." She holds still long enough when he draws back for the simple pressure of the weight of her arm to be felt through the loose touch before she backs away, briefly touching the center of her chestplates with a few fingers, underneath which her spark chamber is.

Then she turns around and starts to walk down the corridor, hoping that he does not need the help to find somewhere to leave to, and if he does, he'll either ask her... or hopefully have someone else to ask.

I don't rememeber myself, but I still remember you [Closed]

;3; <3

;A;