Vector's optics dim, then, the golden fading to black. His face clouds, his wings go still, and there is pain there, of a sort Ultra Magnus may or may not recognize.
It is not so dissimilar from his own.
"Lost," is all the Prime says, only so much louder than a murmur. "We do not speak of it."
no subject
Vector's optics dim, then, the golden fading to black. His face clouds, his wings go still, and there is pain there, of a sort Ultra Magnus may or may not recognize.
It is not so dissimilar from his own.
"Lost," is all the Prime says, only so much louder than a murmur. "We do not speak of it."