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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He tilts his head, but he won't question her. She knows better, right? It doesn't seem worth making a big deal.

"We could," he pauses to consider. The medibay doesn't seem like the right option. "We could go to the lake? Or, I mean, I guess my room, if you're cold or something?"

It's his turn to be embarrassed. "Uh, thanks. It's...practice. I've had a lot of practice."

He moves back, extending a hand.

"Your room," She says a bit too quickly. She's not really in the mood for scenic, as nice as it is. Something more comfortable.

"I can tell." He did stab Prism to death for her, which is more than she could have ever asked of him, so no doubt he's had millions of years probably.

She takes his hand, wobbling to her feet again.

"Thanks." A small smile.

He doesn't notice anything strange, figuring the speed is probably a sign that she's tired and cold, and doesn't want a long trip.

"You want me to, uh, carry you? Or I could drive or...?"

It's one of those times she's grateful he's mostly oblivious to her awkwardness.

"I- uh. Well. You could carry me? Because you know. I'm assuming... stairs." She bites her lip. Yeah that's totally it.

He can't see her awkwardness over his own cluelessness. He gives a laugh. "Oh, I just drive up the stairs. It's no probl--oh. Right." It would probably be pretty jarring for her. Drift you are terrible at patient care.

"I should probably carry you, you're right." He bends down, offering his arms awkwardly. "There's, uh, a way to do this?"

She chuckles apologetically.

"Yeah just um-" She eases her way up against his chest, under his chin, looping her arms around his neck.

"Okay... like this."

"You're comfortable? This isn't pulling on anything?" He braces his arms under her, trying to make a cradle for her as he takes a tentative step forward.

"Yeah, this is fine. My stitches are getting taken out soon, anyways..." She closes her eye, leaning her head down.

"Thank you."

A pause.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"That's good, right?" He has no idea about human repairs. It seems a really iffy system, if he's honest. All this time, all those scars. Humans should just be able to replace parts, like sensible bots.

"Don't apologize, Karrie. I'm sorry I made you come out to me."

"Yeah, that's good."

So this is nice. They'd cuddled plenty before. Rather, she'd slept on him in various ways, if that could be called cuddling. (She counted it as cuddling). Still, it's nice after all of that.

"Yeah you totally told me to come out here I didn't sneak out of my own accord or anything," She teases, shooting him a wry smile.

"Don't worry."

Drift's moving slowly, in smooth, even strides, over the bridges toward Vector's palace proper, trying not to jostle her.

"Sneak out? Vandal. You're not going to get in trouble, are you?"

All this means is they're going to need to concoct a good cover story. And then...that matter with Skids.

"Probably. But I can probably make the big puppy eyes... eye. At Ambulon and he'll crumble." Hopefully. He can be kind of a hard ass.

"I'll take responsibility and tell them I coerced you into cooperating." She snerks.

"Does that work? On Ambulon?" Wow, he couldn't see it: not the way Ambulon huffed him around. "Maybe it's not something I can pull off, though," he muses.

"I think we should, you know, maybe try to get you back without him noticing." Not yet, though. He mounts the last ramp, leading toward his quarters.

"Wellllllllllll... I dunno really. Haven't tested it. But who can resist the. Adorable disgusting organic with the drinking problem, right?" If she jokes about it that makes it okay. Except not.

"You should try though seriously. Open your optics super wide and look like you're gonna cry." Mostly she just wants to see him make faces.

"I think that's doable."

"....you're not disgusting." Drift really takes the essential info out of that sentence. Sucks out all the humor, though.

"I...what?" He tries, for a moment, to do what she's suggesting, and ends up just scrunching up his face. "Kind of painful."

He sure focuses in there doesn't he?

"Thank you," Nice to hear you're not disgusting after getting sliced up and becoming a cyclops...

"Ahah, we'll have to work on that." She can't help but give a low chuckle.

Robots. (Drift).

He tries. He thinks it's helping.

"I mean, you're like the opposite of disgusting." That's even more helpful, right? Maybe he wasn't positive enough last time.

"....I'm not sure I could survive the attempt."

It earns a laugh from her and she pats him.

"Thank you, Drift." She admits, she likes giving him a hard time. He makes it easy, but she'd rather he be comfortable.

"Ahh I believe in you. But I suppose it is risky."

As long as she's laughing and happy, he's fine.

"I think I need more practice in that, too." Compliments hurt his face less than that other thing.

"...risky?"

"Hey, I won't say no if you want to flatter me," She jokes, wiggling to get a bit more comfortable.

"Don't you know if you keep making faces it might stick that way?"

"I'm not as good at it as Wing probably is, though." Damn you, Wing, with all that natural chivalry and stuff.

"Really? Then, uh, well. I mean I'm sure Ratchet...could..fix..." Uh. Yeah that'd be a hell of a thing to explain to Ratchet.

"Yeah but there's nobody quite like you." It's true, for all the occasional awkward, his strengths outshine it easily.

She barks a laugh.

"I was just joking. Your face won't actually stick."

"I could say the same about you. Except, you've already said it so it sounds...lame." You sure you've thought this through, Vandal? You want to be with a giant raging robodork?

"Oh. I didn't think it would. I mean, surely I'd've heard of it before now." Unlesssssss that's why mechs wore face masks? Suddenly Turmoil seems...even freakier.

"Well I appreciate the sentiment."

On the contrary, he's and incredibly cute dork. She reaches up to rub one of his finials affectionately with a soft snerk.

"Surely, you would have, yes." She grins.

"Good." A relieved sound. He ducks his head, trying to hide his reaction, because the finial touch...kind of tickles.

Right. She was making fun of him. "Well. I mean, I just don't think it would work for me. That's all." That's totally what he meant. Shush.

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