I felt like destroying something beautiful

[sword_redemption]

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.

Comments

[winged_knight]

Wing can't hide the tremble in his limbs, his ventilations stilled as that moment stretches on, wobbling on a precipice of uncertainty until Drift reaches out and rescues him from it. He clutches maybe too desperately to the swordmech's frame, his fear and shame gusting out in a sob.

He turns into the would-be kiss: it's simple habit and instinct, or perhaps magnetism, but either way it's altogether natural. The processor likes to complicate things though and there's a timorous flutter of other would-be kisses before Wing let's go a nervous chuff of air, a small sound daring to laugh, and pushes his forecrest against Drift's instead.

[sword_redemption]

The non-kiss tingles between their mouthplates, and Drift lets himself get lost, just for a moment, in the golden light of Wing's optics.

And then Wing laughs, and Drift finds his old voice. "What's so funny." He sounds truculent, but his hands cling around the other's shoulders.

[winged_knight]

He offers a smile. "Just look at us. Like some young, untried lovers floundering over their first kiss." It's a touch silly, and a far cry from their true first kiss, but that in itself makes it all the more charming to Wing.

He tips his head, coy and inquisitive, "Want to try again...?"

[sword_redemption]

"Wing. I...," he shakes his head. "This whole thing happened because of a kiss." But still, Wing, so near him, his EM field fluttering over Drift's, is too much to resist. He looks away, then back, almost furtively, lipping gently at Wing's mouthplates.

[winged_knight]

"It's not kisses that are the culprit," Wing cants his helm, "it's the consequences that go with them." It's certainly a meaningful response, but his voice fades off a little at the distraction of Drift being so close.

Wing's optic shutters droop as Drift leans in, moving to meet him, lips parted slightly as he flirts with the kiss. It's slow, gentle and reverent, playing at the tingle as their mouthplates brush before committing to press them briefly together. He whispers softly against Drift's mouth, _{"I could never regret kissing you...}"

[sword_redemption]

Drift nods, his helm's nasal sliding over Wing's. "Consequences." Right now he doesn't care about any consequences. There's something about Wing that just seems to make anything, everything, worth cost of one kiss. "Just don't want to lose you."