☼ Wing ☼ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winged_knight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-09-22 03:51 pm
winged_knight) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-09-22 03:51 pm
[Semi-Closed] Shine Your Light On Me
WHO: Wing, possibly others: see notes below
WHERE: The Brave Police Headquarters
WHEN: A 1-2 week period, starting near the end of the pages event. Following this which follows this.
WHAT: After stalking Vandal and Drift in the Junk Pile, Wing wrests control back from his evil self and insists on being confined. He's been holed up in a holding cell in the Brave Police headquarters ever since. Even after returning to normal he insists on staying, and is there at least a week, refusing visitors (with only a few exceptions) and limiting Link activity.
WARNINGS: Dark, depressing things? Very mild references to implied/potential mental and physical abuse, dubcon/noncon, murder and other violence.
NOTES: This is mostly a narrative since Wing states he's accepting no visitors except Drift, though he can be convinced to see Ratchet and Blurr, and any of the Brave Police members can attempt to converse since it's their headquarters, (someone needs to make sure he refuels. D:). ;) If you want to find a way to tag into this though, just ask.
Feel free to tag on a specific day or anywhere in between, but give me an idea which since his mental state varies. ;)
Soundtrack: 1 (all mood, less lyric), 2, 3.
Day 1
He huddles, shed of weapons, in a cell of his own choosing. Tall flood lights stand outside the metal bars, creating endless artificial day. The light is harsh, but he welcomes it, because he feels undeserving of gentle things right now. He's curled in the corner, his helm in his hands, shaking with uncontrolled horror and revulsion at the storm of memories that swirl through his mind.
When it's late and the building is quiet, and he assumes--hopes--that there's no one around to be bothered, that's when he keens his distress. High and dissonant, it sounds like suffering, a sound he'd wish upon no one. But he must, it's a purging, because if he does not it'll only sour and poison him.
It's not that he hasn't seen darkness before. But now, it feels like it's in him. And though he's always known that all individuals have a little bit of darkness in them--are potentially capable of immoral things--being faced with his own living persona of that very thing in all its extremity...is beyond disturbing. It shook him to the core and he felt toppled, his grip loosed and his center lost.
Remorse? He has plenty over what he'd done. But beyond that, horror over what he knew he'd been capable of. What he wanted to do. Each time he came back to himself after an episode he remembered more and more. And the thoughts, the memories, wormed around within his mind close enough that they felt like they were his own.
The gleeful fantasies of Prism's murder... Fraternization with Overlord... Eagerly corrupting Kagerou... Taking advantage of and taming Blurr... The easy way he labeled Vandal expendable in the face of his torrid obsession with Drift, and the very things that obsession would have led him to do had Drift been himself...
Each is like a demon he has to face, not only because they haunt him, but because he knows it's the only way to be free.
Day 3
He sits near the window, staring through the bars at the falling snow, his communicator nearby. Wing's never seen snow before. He wishes he could be out in it, but right now, that would be a hollow, temporary joy. It's happenstance, running across Alpha Trion's message, given how little he'd used the Link in the last few days.
So now he knows the how of it all, which even for its frustratingly simple source, was still a comfort. McCrane had been good enough to field Wing's request to fetch his page and return it to the First Forged. (Wing was beyond being embarrassed by its contents now, all things considered.) The page returned, he's physically himself again at least, but the pall of darkness remains, like a shroud that's just been temporarily pulled aside.
Much later he feels the oppressive gloom finally lift, and when he asks for his Great Sword, he then knows it's true. The weapon's resonance feels pure and clean now, not laced with agitation and foreboding.
He's been told he can go, yet he stays. Wing needs his center, his Self, to be stable and ready, before he can put any kind of true strength behind an apology. And so he sits curled around his Great Sword, the gem warm in one palm as it presses against his cheek, his other thumb tracing the glyphs in the blade's fuller. This alone is some comfort, knowing the blade hasn't rejected him. This, at least, he hasn't broken or frightened away.
He still quakes with emotion sometimes, but it's no longer crippling. Each of the demons he faces, he pulls their ugliness into the light, and though he then knows them fully for what they are, they are diminished in the face of their own truths. He slowly takes each, recognizes it for what it is, tries to accept and then puts it its place. Because it's all a part of him now--that can never change--but to let these things flow freely through him, unmanaged, could corrupt in time, seeping into his foundations.
Day 6 - ??
He kneels, the Great Sword standing against the wall before him. His spinal struts are straight and tall, shoulders back, his helm bowed. Not even his pinions move as his cooling system passes slow, steady breathes through his vents.
The flood lights are now off, for he shall remain here, like this, until he fears the dark no more. Because despite all that we fail to be, all the mistakes we make and the regrets we have, in the end what matters is how we exercise the good in ourselves to make things right.
Wing is not certain he feels worthy to be with people yet, but he knows that when put in perspective what he feels and what is true are two different things. And that in itself leads to a revelation on many other levels, but especially when it comes to a very special person in his life. Now that he's climbed from the pit and stands at the edge, in a way he's thankful for this, the experience, because it brings him perspective he did not have before. He's not certain what to do with all these various other bits of new insight, but time will hopefully tell. And as horrible as Drift's experience as a human girl had likely been, Wing is thankful for that too, being well aware that it spared the one he cares for most from some of his dark counterpart's more dreadful and depraved intentions.
Healing is something that requires time, more so for the mind and spirit than the body. And though Wing still has much of it to do, and many amends to make, the stregnth to do so is gathering in him now. It's illuminated by hope and love and the simple desire to do better.
WHERE: The Brave Police Headquarters
WHEN: A 1-2 week period, starting near the end of the pages event. Following this which follows this.
WHAT: After stalking Vandal and Drift in the Junk Pile, Wing wrests control back from his evil self and insists on being confined. He's been holed up in a holding cell in the Brave Police headquarters ever since. Even after returning to normal he insists on staying, and is there at least a week, refusing visitors (with only a few exceptions) and limiting Link activity.
WARNINGS: Dark, depressing things? Very mild references to implied/potential mental and physical abuse, dubcon/noncon, murder and other violence.
NOTES: This is mostly a narrative since Wing states he's accepting no visitors except Drift, though he can be convinced to see Ratchet and Blurr, and any of the Brave Police members can attempt to converse since it's their headquarters, (someone needs to make sure he refuels. D:). ;) If you want to find a way to tag into this though, just ask.
Feel free to tag on a specific day or anywhere in between, but give me an idea which since his mental state varies. ;)
Soundtrack: 1 (all mood, less lyric), 2, 3.
Day 1
He huddles, shed of weapons, in a cell of his own choosing. Tall flood lights stand outside the metal bars, creating endless artificial day. The light is harsh, but he welcomes it, because he feels undeserving of gentle things right now. He's curled in the corner, his helm in his hands, shaking with uncontrolled horror and revulsion at the storm of memories that swirl through his mind.
When it's late and the building is quiet, and he assumes--hopes--that there's no one around to be bothered, that's when he keens his distress. High and dissonant, it sounds like suffering, a sound he'd wish upon no one. But he must, it's a purging, because if he does not it'll only sour and poison him.
It's not that he hasn't seen darkness before. But now, it feels like it's in him. And though he's always known that all individuals have a little bit of darkness in them--are potentially capable of immoral things--being faced with his own living persona of that very thing in all its extremity...is beyond disturbing. It shook him to the core and he felt toppled, his grip loosed and his center lost.
Remorse? He has plenty over what he'd done. But beyond that, horror over what he knew he'd been capable of. What he wanted to do. Each time he came back to himself after an episode he remembered more and more. And the thoughts, the memories, wormed around within his mind close enough that they felt like they were his own.
The gleeful fantasies of Prism's murder... Fraternization with Overlord... Eagerly corrupting Kagerou... Taking advantage of and taming Blurr... The easy way he labeled Vandal expendable in the face of his torrid obsession with Drift, and the very things that obsession would have led him to do had Drift been himself...
Each is like a demon he has to face, not only because they haunt him, but because he knows it's the only way to be free.
Day 3
He sits near the window, staring through the bars at the falling snow, his communicator nearby. Wing's never seen snow before. He wishes he could be out in it, but right now, that would be a hollow, temporary joy. It's happenstance, running across Alpha Trion's message, given how little he'd used the Link in the last few days.
So now he knows the how of it all, which even for its frustratingly simple source, was still a comfort. McCrane had been good enough to field Wing's request to fetch his page and return it to the First Forged. (Wing was beyond being embarrassed by its contents now, all things considered.) The page returned, he's physically himself again at least, but the pall of darkness remains, like a shroud that's just been temporarily pulled aside.
Much later he feels the oppressive gloom finally lift, and when he asks for his Great Sword, he then knows it's true. The weapon's resonance feels pure and clean now, not laced with agitation and foreboding.
He's been told he can go, yet he stays. Wing needs his center, his Self, to be stable and ready, before he can put any kind of true strength behind an apology. And so he sits curled around his Great Sword, the gem warm in one palm as it presses against his cheek, his other thumb tracing the glyphs in the blade's fuller. This alone is some comfort, knowing the blade hasn't rejected him. This, at least, he hasn't broken or frightened away.
He still quakes with emotion sometimes, but it's no longer crippling. Each of the demons he faces, he pulls their ugliness into the light, and though he then knows them fully for what they are, they are diminished in the face of their own truths. He slowly takes each, recognizes it for what it is, tries to accept and then puts it its place. Because it's all a part of him now--that can never change--but to let these things flow freely through him, unmanaged, could corrupt in time, seeping into his foundations.
Day 6 - ??
He kneels, the Great Sword standing against the wall before him. His spinal struts are straight and tall, shoulders back, his helm bowed. Not even his pinions move as his cooling system passes slow, steady breathes through his vents.
The flood lights are now off, for he shall remain here, like this, until he fears the dark no more. Because despite all that we fail to be, all the mistakes we make and the regrets we have, in the end what matters is how we exercise the good in ourselves to make things right.
Wing is not certain he feels worthy to be with people yet, but he knows that when put in perspective what he feels and what is true are two different things. And that in itself leads to a revelation on many other levels, but especially when it comes to a very special person in his life. Now that he's climbed from the pit and stands at the edge, in a way he's thankful for this, the experience, because it brings him perspective he did not have before. He's not certain what to do with all these various other bits of new insight, but time will hopefully tell. And as horrible as Drift's experience as a human girl had likely been, Wing is thankful for that too, being well aware that it spared the one he cares for most from some of his dark counterpart's more dreadful and depraved intentions.
Healing is something that requires time, more so for the mind and spirit than the body. And though Wing still has much of it to do, and many amends to make, the stregnth to do so is gathering in him now. It's illuminated by hope and love and the simple desire to do better.
Day (s) 1,2,3,4,5 and 6, because he comes and goes.
When Blurr first came back to his senses he found himself in the Junk Pile with no memory of how he arrived there. His whole body hurt, there were memory blanks in his processor and his engine started to overwork.
Error messages flashed before this optics, a long list of past events that happened this last week. Things that he did, say, or tried to do, mixed with memory gaps that needed filling. It was too much to deal all at once and he suffered a massive system shutdown.
Day 2
The next day Kay found him in the Junk Pile, in his car mode, system still shut down. She woke him up but he refused to change, afraid that he would hurt more people that way. Kay comforted him and eventually Blurr decided that he had to talk with those whom he had hurt.
Day 3
His communication went as well as he expected. Drift’s words were well deserved and justified but made Blurr felt more scared and insecure about talking to Wing and Ratchet. He spent the night with Starscream, trying to calm himself and not think about Soundwave’s memory.
Day 4
Blurr spent all day looking for Wing and Ratchet everywhere. They weren’t in the temples nor in the medbay and Blurr tried asking around with little success. He barely made it past the door of the Brave Police headquarters when he heard McCrane talking about how the pages needed to be returned to Trion as soon as possible. Just the idea of seeing the page again made Blurr jumpy and uneasy but it had to be done. It took him 3 hours to find it and 5 more to actually get the courage to give it back to Trion.
Day 5
Ratchet was still avoiding him, and everyone, and Blurr knew he had to find Wheeljack and talk to him as well. He went back to the headquarters and discovered that Wing had been there all along. He rushed to the cell but stopped short at the door, panic growing on him. He seemed to stare beyond the cells, to some unknown beyond, in which he finally realized the severity of what he had done to Wing.
He made a chocking sound that sounded embarrassingly like a whimper and fled from the headquartes as fast as he could.
Day 6
This needed to stop, he told himself. He had to talk to the other mech and hope Wing would listen long enough for him to apologize. He knew, however, that an apology was not enough, that it would never be enough. He approached the cells again, staring at the floor and silent for a long time.
"W-Wing?" He finally muttered, sounding distressed.
no subject
He knew on an instinctive level that he had to stop feeling sorry for himself. That he has to push past his own pain and fear if he's to make things right. Certainly he could express his regrets at any time--punish himself or offer restitution--but what healing could come of it if he was unable to accept forgiveness in the event it was offered?
And vice versa.
But knowing and doing are two different things, and thus he seeks the strength needed for the latter.
It's not until Blurr speaks that Wing becomes aware of the other mech's presence. His audials twitch and optics open, turning towards the door. Air catches in his vents as he recognizes his unexpected visitor, the striken form of Blurr a stark comparison to the one Wing saw last. Those memories rear up and he fights them for dominance, brow furrowing under his helm. He's not been on the Link for days, so these are the last memories he has of Blurr.
Wing cycles air deeply through his cooling system and turns what he hopes is benevolent gaze upon the other mech.
"Blurr."
There are so many things to say, to ask, but for once he does not know where to start.
no subject
Maybe he should leave Wing alone all together, but it hurt to see his friend in a cell. He should be there instead, and mostly it was just because of Elita, Gunmax and Barricade's words that he didn't lock himself in one. He's not sure for how long he could have stayed in one without panicking, anyway, considering his new acquired claustrophobia.
This is probably the stillest he ever has been, and misses the softer look on Wing's face because he doesn't dare to look a him again.
"I'm sorry Wing all this is my fault and IhadnoideawhatthatpagecoudldoI...I was..just doodling..it was nothing improtant..or so I thought and now I have hurt people and I ruined everything and..."
no subject
But the blue mech seems overwrought about something else, and Wing listens patiently to what he has to say. He's quiet for more than a few moments. He'd assumed it'd been another page that had affected him, it had to be, but he'd been unsure of anything else.
"So... it was your page that...changed us?"
no subject
"It was an accident." It wasn't an irritated snap. It had a layer of guilt, and a good helping of remorse behind it. "I..didn’t knew it could do what it did. You shouldn't be in there.”
He thought of apologizing again, but he waited for Wing's reply.
no subject
"I know. A lot of things happened that were...unintended." More than he can count really. "I'm more upset at Alpha Trion really... but. What good does blame serve anyone?"
He lowers his head, thinking on his own words. Because though he's used to issuing them for the benefit of others it was time for to follow some of his own advice.
"But...can I ask....why? Why me, why so...dark?" Did some people, could some people, see him like that already?
no subject
Blurr started to fidget and swallowed a lump in his throat. Drift asked him the same. "No real reason. Cliffjumper SOUNDWAVE and Megatron mentioned how twisted the Autobots in his world are...I..was just trying to image it..."
no subject
He nods his comprehension, slowly. "Soundwave did explain it to me, but I didn't have a chance to ask him about it in detail. So, you imagined me, Ratchet and yourself?"
no subject
"I will compensate you all... somehow..I promise..."
no subject
Its an eerie thought, that in some mirror universe there might be someone like his dark counterpart. Its disturbing, but at the same time an odd comfort, because that makes him feel distinctly separate, and not some demon lurking within Wing himself.
He stands, flexing his legs a bit to work the stiffness out before moving to the door. "I don't think it's necessary to compensate, but if you feel the need to I understand. Just know that telling me how it all started helps. At least I understand now. It's like he's an entirely different person." he stands near the door, his optics holding the hurt and sympathy for both himself and for Blurr in equal measure.
no subject
"It wasn't your fault either but you chose to stay in this cell for days. Why? I should have realized you where there much sooner..."
no subject
"You blame yourself yes? But having the page in the first place was not your fault. My situation is not that different. Regardless of fault, I have regrets and they need to be reconciled. That's has to happen here--" He taps the chevrons over his spark chamber, "--first."
He hesitates, pushing aside the memories of their last encounter together, and then reaches through the bars, offering what comfort he has to give. The door is open, but he won't force his presence--or his embrace--on the blue bot.
"It's quiet here Blurr. I needed time to myself to sort things out, to think, to meditate. To...separate him from me. So I stayed."
no subject
“Drift thinks I ruined you with that page….” It came out sounding more of apologetic than Blurr intended. He was having a hard time keeping a clam facade up, why was he even trying?
Wow I don't think I ever got this notif...have an ancient tag!
"...ruined me?" Concern deepens the lines of his face. For a while, Wing supposed he was, even he would agree, but it still wasn't Blurr's fault. "He has a unique perspective Blurr, I mentored him, showed him a better path. I am...a symbol of many things to him. I'm not surprised he was upset at seeing that corrupted." Then he shakes his head. "But it was temporary Blurr, and I will heal, as will others, and I hope, eventually, we will be able to forgive and forget."