☼ Wing ☼ (
winged_knight) wrote in
re_alignment_logs2012-12-18 12:50 am
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[Closed] I touch the place where I'd find your face
WHO: Drift and Wing
WHERE: One of the caves lining the walls of the gorge where Vector's temple is located.
WHEN: A short time after this.
WHAT: Drift is sulking over various things following his death and Wing has an apology to make because he's a big dumb.
WARNINGS: None yet.
He wasn't skilled at tracing signals, no, but he was definitely observant, a trait he's certainly thankful for right now.
He'd been needing to speak to Drift, but over the past few days capturing a moment alone with his lover and partner had proven difficult. And now, Wing understands why. He recognized the crystals lining the walls of the dark rock that formed the backdrop for Drift's earlier transmission. He didn't know which cave specifically it was, but he was fully willing to search them all if necessary.
This is not something he'll let wait.
In those first fragile moments just after Drift's return to life they'd both been to wary to really discuss what had happened. Toppling things that seemed unshakable was a talent this place seemed to have, and in those delicate moments it was better to just rejoice in being given Yet Another Chance.
But outside of the warm bubble of their dreamy reunion things were darker and more unsettling....
For Wing's part--a mech who feels everything very deeply--the tide of distress that avalanched in the form of Vandal's disappearance, Tarn's emergence, the Glyphless tragedy, Drift's death and fighting Prism, gradually wore him thin. Thin enough that it made him cringe and lash out more than was necessary when sore spots were struck.
But it's probably nothing compared to what Drift is going through.
And so Wing is here, feeling like he's failed the person who means the most to him in a moment of need, searching among the caves for that spark in the hopes to heal it.
He has a sense this is the right one. Whether it's intuition, perception or sensing Drift through the Great Sword he has no idea. And in truth it doesn't matter. The jet takes a few steps forward into the cave's mouth, his unique silhouette like a signature scribed upon the light. He wants to enter. But more than that, he wants to know he's welcome.
WHERE: One of the caves lining the walls of the gorge where Vector's temple is located.
WHEN: A short time after this.
WHAT: Drift is sulking over various things following his death and Wing has an apology to make because he's a big dumb.
WARNINGS: None yet.
He wasn't skilled at tracing signals, no, but he was definitely observant, a trait he's certainly thankful for right now.
He'd been needing to speak to Drift, but over the past few days capturing a moment alone with his lover and partner had proven difficult. And now, Wing understands why. He recognized the crystals lining the walls of the dark rock that formed the backdrop for Drift's earlier transmission. He didn't know which cave specifically it was, but he was fully willing to search them all if necessary.
This is not something he'll let wait.
In those first fragile moments just after Drift's return to life they'd both been to wary to really discuss what had happened. Toppling things that seemed unshakable was a talent this place seemed to have, and in those delicate moments it was better to just rejoice in being given Yet Another Chance.
But outside of the warm bubble of their dreamy reunion things were darker and more unsettling....
For Wing's part--a mech who feels everything very deeply--the tide of distress that avalanched in the form of Vandal's disappearance, Tarn's emergence, the Glyphless tragedy, Drift's death and fighting Prism, gradually wore him thin. Thin enough that it made him cringe and lash out more than was necessary when sore spots were struck.
But it's probably nothing compared to what Drift is going through.
And so Wing is here, feeling like he's failed the person who means the most to him in a moment of need, searching among the caves for that spark in the hopes to heal it.
He has a sense this is the right one. Whether it's intuition, perception or sensing Drift through the Great Sword he has no idea. And in truth it doesn't matter. The jet takes a few steps forward into the cave's mouth, his unique silhouette like a signature scribed upon the light. He wants to enter. But more than that, he wants to know he's welcome.
no subject
"I used to think that as an individual there was nothing I could do. How could one person make a difference? The war certainly proved me wrong." A soft smile against Drift's shoulder. "Then someone taught me that if you want to make a difference, succeed or not, you still try."
His hand floats around the little lights, fingers moving and hand turning slowly. It's hard to tell who's chasing who the way the little bugs float and shift, a few more choosing to settle down on the two mech's frames.
"He wanted to go down fighting. Optimus." Wing's voice is flat but tinged with a certain sadness. That in the end violence was still what defined the mech. "I can't say I'm happy with his choice, only that he managed to have one."
no subject
"....Wing." He doesn't know what else to say, turning under the smile on his shoulder, not sure if he wanted a kiss, or wanted to see Wing's face. Just somehow, more, clearer contact.
The little light bugs alight on their bodies, and Drift thinks, for a moment, it's like being touched by hope. It's silly and sentimental, but, Wing brings that out in him.
He nods, almost knowingly. "It's like a monomania with him, bordering on obsession. It's how he is. It's why he never seemed to be able to stop."
no subject
The smile spreads, growing brighter, as he dips his head towards Drift. "It's true," he murmurs, "not even the Circle taught me that." His hand moves, fingers ghosting over the side of Drift's face, bringing a halo of little lights with it.
Now that he's met Megatron, he can believe it. "It scares me, a little." More than a little, really.
no subject
He tips his head back, afraid to move in and close for the kiss, but inviting one. "You taught me that," he breathes.
He doesn't want to talk about Megatron. Not right now. But... "He's half of what destroyed our planet. That monomania was not one sided." Even after the war, Optimus had clung to it.
no subject
It's easy to be drawn to the memory of the two of them on the ledge overlooking the slaver base, the first time he extended his compassion to a Decepticon who was lost and alone. Something that, despite all that happened, Wing would never, ever regret. His smile can't really grow any bigger than it already is, so it changes into something else, a softer shape that dips low to brush gently over Drift's lipplates. It's an invitation yes, but more than that it's adoration, the way a person caresses a deeply valued thing.
An assenting murmur, but whether he's agreeing with Optimus sharing the blame or something else entirely, well, it's a little hard to tell.
no subject
He could talk philosophy but right now, the kiss was better. His whole body shifts, turning into the kiss, like a petal cupping to hold precious dew.
And suddenly this place he'd come to get away, to wallow in his misery, was lit with little stars, Wing's EM field a velvety plushness above him, and he could think of no place else he would rather be.
no subject
It's a deep wish, and a old one, but really not at the forefront of Wing's mind anymore. Because the kiss is better: the unexpected fruits of that compassion.
Wing's hand cups the back of Drift's helm, supportive, drawing him further into the kiss, dark fingers trailing over the underside of a finial. There's no rush, no need for urgency. Only as much time as they want to share in each other, in this exquisite moment filled with light, from the brightness in each of their sparks to the golden lights that swirl about them and dot their frames like the pieces of an earthbound constellation.
no subject
no subject
He had a response but it lost, forgotten. He's not really interested in talking anymore. Wing could be here, doing just this, all night and be happy.