re_alignment_logs | I felt like destroying something beautiful

Entry tags:

I felt like destroying something beautiful

Who: Drift and open
What: Catharsis
When Nowish
Where Outside Vector's place
Warnings Damage to harmless innocent geology and if you look slantwise, suicidal tendencies maybe?

It's morning--or what passes for it here. And there's a sharp, ringing sound, of metal on stone, and then another. They keep coming, sometimes a quick flurry, sometimes one, or two at a time, like the blows are calculated.

Drift's standing in a rough circle, blades drawn, in a loose version of an old Decepticon training ring. On the main vectors of the circle, at the perimeter stand rough pillars of stone: crystal and schist, nodules of manganese and pyrite.

Fool's gold. It's fitting.

There are sparks, as the metal of Drift's blades strike flint in the sedimentary stones, or larger sparks, as he slices into the strange quartz of this place. His style isn't like Wing's--Wing's bladework is elegant, almost dancer-like: Drift's is sharp and explosive, honed less on a pretty, underground practice floor than in the thick of combat.

He's fighting something here. Not enemies, but himself.

After a moment, he throws the two short blades aside, their blades ringing on the stone, and draws the Great Sword. There's a blaze of light, like sunlight or flame, from the golden gem in its hilt, and bright energy skitters down the blade, filling the glyphs like liquid light, as he moves to attack one of the mindless chunks of stone again, his face set and resolute.

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"Not important," She sighs, waving a dismissive hand.

"Coulda' at least said something. Rude, Drift. Tsk tsk." She doesn't really sound angry still, though. She understands.

"I'd like to finish our conversation, though."

He knows enough of Skids to be dubious. But it's not his place to pry.

"Sorry. I am. It's just, something I thought was a good thing, turned out...not good." He shrugs, wishing it was easy to dismiss.

"You know my answer, Karrie."

"Alright," She nods, holding her hand out, "Elaborate?"

She's done with vagueness.

"I don't actually. You've not been straight with me. It's a yes or a no, babe. But you don't have to answer right now, if you're stressed or don't feel like it."

She shakes her head.

"I just want things to be good for all of us."

"Perceptor. He and I..I'd thought we had, err...were something, before. And every time I've tried to, you know, talk about it he avoided me. So, that day in the Junk Pile, I'd kissed him. I thought it would get the message across, at least get him talking to me."

He sighs. "It didn't. It made things worse. And I'm bad for wanting him and Wing, but you're good for wanting all of us." It's ridiculous. It's hypocrisy, there's no other way he can see it. He's certainly tried.

"I don't think I can be good for all of you."

She taps her lips with one finger, listening to him.

"I think," She says, "You all should have talked about it. But I know that is like hearding cats. I think he'd be willing to listen if all three of you perhaps started with a fresh slate and layed everything, honestly out on the table."

She shrugs.

"You're all bull-headed. I'm fine to play mediator, as much as I'm not remotely qualified, but I think between the four of us, I'm probably the most unbiased."

A sigh.

"That's not a straight answer. That's you saying what you think, not what you want. If you could have it your way, what would that be, ah?"

"I wanted to talk. Have you ever tried to talk to Perceptor? I couldn't even find him, afterwards."

He gives a resigned sigh. Everyone's blaming this on him. Maybe it was his fault. And if it was, then, no, he didn't need to be the mar of their happiness.

"Vandal, it's not necessary. I respect that he doesn't...want me near him. It's all I can do."

"What I want is immaterial since it's not going to happen."

She nods, holding up a hand, her eye closing.

"Drift. You're assuming a lot. Everyone has."

She's not going to get into the nitty gritty with him. That's trouble.

"Lay down please, on your back, with your head here." She motions to her lap. It'll be easier when they're not facing off in a metaphorical sense.

He looks like he could use the comfort, too.

"What else am I supposed to do when he won't even talk to me? When he doesn't even seem to notice I--" he cut himself off. No. It was clear she saw him as the problem here.

Never mind. He flopped down onto his back, as she directed, mouth pressed in a tight line. He's done talking.

She doesn't actually. But that would be the assuming thing again.

"I'll talk to him. This has just been a massive miscommunication that got out of control."

She takes his head into her lap and starts rubbing tight circles against the side plating of his helm and face. A little bit of a massage, enough just barely to flex the plating.

"Calm. I won't abandon you. It's going to be okay. I think we all just need to start over. No need for all the complicated." Her fingers draw smoothly up his finials and back down.

"Don't waste your time. You should concentrate on being happy. Not with fixing my mistake." Because that's what it had been, however well-intentioned.

"If it matters to him, he can contact me. Others shouldn't get involved. It only makes it more complicated." He frowns, twitching at the touches to his helm, still edgy from his exertion.

She just keeps working at it, hands sliding down to massage the cabling in his neck. She's getting pretty wise to where Cybertronians wear and tear.

"I don't mind, Drift. I'd rather see you happy. It's easy if you're open, you just have to not expect the worst. People will love you, if you let them."

She smiles down at him warmly.

"I love you. Wing loves you. And Perceptor... well. He wouldn't be upset if he didn't love you."

She chuckles, playfully tweaking his nose.

"And don't you sass me on that."

He can't help the sigh, as her fingers found a little pool of excess charge.

"Karrie, I know you want this, but, no. Perceptor doesn't. And that's all right, except for the hurt I've caused him."

He sighs. "You should listen to him, not me."

"There we go..." She continues her task of working the tension out.

"Well... I mean. If you really don't want, we don't all have to cluster together. But if you don't mind an open sort of relationship..."

She pats him gently on the head.

"I know that's really greedy of me, but damn it Drift. I want you. It's not a matter of 'you should be with this or that...'. Sorry, but I fell for you first. Way back when you came to see me after you helped Ratchet pull me out of the junk heap all bleeding and gross. I didn't realize it then but I've had a terribly strong crush on you since. If you don't like me like that, I guess I'd understand. It would hurt, but I can't force you to be attracted to me. But all of these outside things... they can't stop me."

He gets a stubborn face. Oh yeah. She's not going to budge on that respect.

"I want you."

"I can't tell you what you want. But I know Perceptor...doesn't want anything to do with me." He wishes it were otherwise. He had that chance and snatched at it, snapping it between his clumsy fingers.

"Karrie. I just want you happy. And I want to be part of it, yes." He doesn't know what more he can say.

"I just said I want you. How much clearer does that need to be?" She rubs a finger down the inside of a finial.

"Let's not talk about Perce right now, then." Simple.

"Does that mean you find me attractive at all? I mean, if not physically, but at least mentally?" She has no problem finding these guys attractive. They're like humans, but bigger and metal and actually way better. She doubts any of them would think she's cute, especially missing an eye and all cut up.

"Being happy is different than being in love. Though the two often come hand in hand."

She thinks.

"Okay challenge time. How do you feel about me, without using the word 'happy' or the phrase 'what you want'?"

"Fine." Let's not talk about Perceptor. "It's between him and me and he's fine not dealing with it." So Drift will pretend to be fine, too.

He sits up, abruptly, rubbing an irritated hand over his helm. "Vandal, I've told you. I love you."

For all the damn good it does.

She holds her hands up.

"Okay, okay." She holds up her hands, wincing a bit. She's probably pushed him too far.

"Alright. Come back down here, please. And turn over. I want to get your back." She sighs, wringing her hands nervously.

"I'm sorry, Drift. I've made such a mess."

He's just...tired. And frustrated. Because this isn't how he wanted this to go. He hated that he was, once again, the problem, hated how quickly she and Wing had fallen to a discussion of his flaws and errors, how quickly Wing had started talking about how he'd doubted if he was right for Drift.

"You did nothing wrong, Vandal. It's me. I'm the problem."

"You're not-" She wants to get up, but the way her legs are folded, it's no easy task. She settles for leaning forward.

"Everyone has problems, but it's not like... like you're bad. No better or worse than any of us. We're all just trying to find our way and do what we have to. Come back down here, please." Her hand gropes uselessly at his ankle.

"It's okay to feel frustrated and upset, but you're not a problem. Come on. I don't lie about stuff like this."

"Vandal. I heard you talking." What else can he say? He heard how they both really felt about him, some mix of pity and doubt. He didn't want to be that, but he was, it seems.

"If a hammer falls and lands on your foot, the hammer wasn't bad, but you're still hurt by it." He probably can't pull off Wing's little riddles but it's as clear as he can describe it. Because his intentions had been good--or so he'd thought. He certainly hadn't intended to hurt Perceptor.

"And?" It's a big case of half empty half full. Vandal is the last person to be optimistic, but she has to try.

"Well, is that any reason to hate a hammer, then? To not want the hammer t- well. You get what I'm saying. We all make mistakes. I've said things I didn't mean, but I'm sorry. And I know you'll forgive me." She closes her eyes.

"Drift? I can't speak for anyone else, but you're not getting rid of me. And I'll kiss you one day if I can help it. I'll keep following you, so you can stop trying to convince me you're not a good guy."

Drift rises. He's said all he can say. He's told her he loves her and it's not enough. It would never be enough. He would never be enough.

"Let me take you back. Or maybe Wing's inside." She talks about him behind his back but doesn't choose to talk about the others to him? No. He's given them enough gossip fodder. One five-microklik kiss had somehow made him into something awful. Fine. He would be awful. But he would be alone.

Actually it's plenty enough, he's just a vague, dodgy fucker who likes to assume the sun and the stars for the sake of feeling bad about it when there's three perfectly good people who are quite ready to accept him.

"Damn it, Drift!" She's never actually seriously shouted at him before. Not like that.

"Would you just shut up and listen to me for five minutes?! Sit down!" She came here to be with him and she's incredibly stubborn.

He has half a mind to just leave. But he's never been a coward, at least when it came to facing someone's anger. The tone of her voice snaps something in him, and after a moment, he drops to the ground, almost sheepish, embarrassed that he'd upset her so much.

"_{I'm listening}." There's no challenge in the voice, just what he hopes is acknowledgment. He's doing what she wants, because this is important to her. And he'll face whatever she says.

Stumbling a little, relieved that she's got his attention, she passes a hand down his helm, leaning up using his chest piece to leverage herself so she can press a very small, chaste kiss against his mouth. Leaning back again, her voice takes on a much softer tone, even more so than the usual gruff quality of her voice. Not demeaning, more timid than anything else.

"I love you so much, Drift. I'm sorry, it's never been my intent to hurt you, or let anyone else do that." She lets go, wilting to the ground again as her legs wobble.

"If you want to be alone, I can go. I know I'm pushing you. I just get worried about what you think and feel, since you're so guarded. That's not a bad thing, though. I should know better than to press like that. I'm asking a lot of really selfish things. I can't speak for anyone else... but. I'd like you to be able to have some peace of mind. No matter the outcome on my end." Her hands wring nervously.

"Could you... tell me how could I give that to you? I mean... at least from me, personally."

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sorry so late, car dealership took FOREVER orz

Sokay!