Wing had been thinking about this a great deal over the past few weeks.
Since the time of his breaking, when his former self--naive and sheltered--had been consumed by the war and the Circle has saved him, he'd always had guidance. Elders by way of Axe and Dai Altas to go to when he felt lost or uncertain.
It's the first time in several millennium that he has no elders he trusts to be a sounding board for his troubled thoughts, his searching questions. Vector Prime has filled this role for him on a few occasions, but that is not a source of counsel one just idly seeks.
Wing needs someone to talk to, someone who doesn't look to him for guidance or have expectations of him.
And in the wake of Drift's death and subsequent return, he needs it now more than ever.
Which brings him here, to Alpha Trion's quadrant. His approach is over the lake as is his habit, as quiet and slow as a jet can, wanting to be a part of the serenity rather than disturb it. And in truth the high pitch of his engines is more like a keen than a roar, elegant to match the rest of him. He makes a graceful curve towards the shore, letting a wingtip graze the surface, the spray creating shifting rainbows against his white chassis.
He spots Rung near the shoreline, surprisingly out of his office, though given the scenery perhaps it's not the surprising. He touches down gently nearby. Wing nods a greeting, offering a small smile to the therapist.
no subject
Since the time of his breaking, when his former self--naive and sheltered--had been consumed by the war and the Circle has saved him, he'd always had guidance. Elders by way of Axe and Dai Altas to go to when he felt lost or uncertain.
It's the first time in several millennium that he has no elders he trusts to be a sounding board for his troubled thoughts, his searching questions. Vector Prime has filled this role for him on a few occasions, but that is not a source of counsel one just idly seeks.
Wing needs someone to talk to, someone who doesn't look to him for guidance or have expectations of him.
And in the wake of Drift's death and subsequent return, he needs it now more than ever.
Which brings him here, to Alpha Trion's quadrant. His approach is over the lake as is his habit, as quiet and slow as a jet can, wanting to be a part of the serenity rather than disturb it. And in truth the high pitch of his engines is more like a keen than a roar, elegant to match the rest of him. He makes a graceful curve towards the shore, letting a wingtip graze the surface, the spray creating shifting rainbows against his white chassis.
He spots Rung near the shoreline, surprisingly out of his office, though given the scenery perhaps it's not the surprising. He touches down gently nearby. Wing nods a greeting, offering a small smile to the therapist.
"Rung. I...hope I'm not intruding?"