Wing hears that snap and flinches, a small bit of sympathy pain, until Drift starts speaking again.
"To control you--!?" He looks shocked, optics darting between Drift and the hand holding out the sword, the weapon suddenly a terrible omen, not just a symbol of his greatest failure but a sign of Drift's rejection.
With Drift's last strident words he's twitching back, both hurt and appalled. His mouthplates work but the sounds are a jumbled and staticky sputter at first. "M-Manipulate you! Drift, I... What am I supposed to do?" he begs helplessly, "there's no right choice for me here!"
"Either I keep your respect and send you to die or I lose your respect and keep you safe!" The words come out high strung, desperate and frustrated, until he seems to cave, as if realizing there have been too many casualties in this battle. "...or am I too late for that already? Do I even have your respect still?"
Because it does feel selfish. Maybe this was never meant to be. Maybe sacrifice is what binds, defines, and ends them again. Is that their fate?
He shakes, visibly, a shadow falling over his face as he struggles for control. It's not lost to him, the irony, that the emotional devastation of Drift's loss is acceptable but the second hand physical torture is not. Wing will feel pain regardless, but without the sword, he can be of no comfort either. And there's pain here, even now, before the thing has even begun. In a way, this is worse torture. Harder to bear than any physical suffering. And beyond that, harder to repair.
But how much of this is concern for Wing's suffering and how much is guilt for being the cause of it?
He shudders, near violently, biting back words, the cutting kind, because there's enough pain in this already. He has to do something decisive, and soon, or this was going to end more terribly than it began. He has a notion now, what it should be...
God I'm sorry TEAL DEER META /faceinhands
"To control you--!?" He looks shocked, optics darting between Drift and the hand holding out the sword, the weapon suddenly a terrible omen, not just a symbol of his greatest failure but a sign of Drift's rejection.
With Drift's last strident words he's twitching back, both hurt and appalled. His mouthplates work but the sounds are a jumbled and staticky sputter at first. "M-Manipulate you! Drift, I... What am I supposed to do?" he begs helplessly, "there's no right choice for me here!"
"Either I keep your respect and send you to die or I lose your respect and keep you safe!" The words come out high strung, desperate and frustrated, until he seems to cave, as if realizing there have been too many casualties in this battle. "...or am I too late for that already? Do I even have your respect still?"
Because it does feel selfish. Maybe this was never meant to be. Maybe sacrifice is what binds, defines, and ends them again. Is that their fate?
He shakes, visibly, a shadow falling over his face as he struggles for control. It's not lost to him, the irony, that the emotional devastation of Drift's loss is acceptable but the second hand physical torture is not. Wing will feel pain regardless, but without the sword, he can be of no comfort either. And there's pain here, even now, before the thing has even begun. In a way, this is worse torture. Harder to bear than any physical suffering. And beyond that, harder to repair.
But how much of this is concern for Wing's suffering and how much is guilt for being the cause of it?
He shudders, near violently, biting back words, the cutting kind, because there's enough pain in this already. He has to do something decisive, and soon, or this was going to end more terribly than it began. He has a notion now, what it should be...