☼ Wing ☼ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winged_knight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-07-28 10:38 am
winged_knight) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-07-28 10:38 am
Entry tags:
- !npc | vector prime,
- !open,
- brave police: j-decker | deckard,
- brave police: j-decker | gunmax,
- tf: animated | blurr,
- tf: classics | elita one,
- tf: dreamwave | jetfire (crau),
- tf: dreamwave | starscream (crau),
- tf: idw | drift,
- tf: idw | wing,
- ✘ ace attorney | kay faraday,
- ✘ dead space | vandal,
- ✘ persona 4 | teddie,
- ✘ real steel | noisy boy,
- ✘ tf: animated | prowl,
- ✘ tf: animated | swindle,
- ✘ tf: bayverse | barricade (crau),
- ✘ tf: bayverse | mirage,
- ✘ tf: beast wars | dinobot,
- ✘ tf: idw | first aid,
- ✘ tf: prime | miko nakadai,
- ✘ tf: prime | wheeljack,
- ✘ tf: shattered glass | soundwave (crau)
[Open - Communal] Meet 'n' Greet!
WHO: Anyone! Hosted by Wing, Vectorians especially encouraged.
WHERE: One of the larger upper platforms in Vector Prime's Quadrant.
WHEN: Now
WHAT: Mixer for Vectorians and general social gathering for everyone.
WARNINGS: None yet. (But there's booze so...at the very least there might be bad karaoke)
Upon entering Vector Prime's domain it's obvious that things are a foot. The typically serene atmosphere is enlivened with notes of music and the murmur of voices punctuated by the occasional bubble of laughter that filters down from the upper heights, a soft glow of illuminating one of the larger platforms with a structure built on it. Colorful streamers fly from crystalline light poles, marking the way through the various crystal bridges and small platforms, until one reaches the large terrace on which the gathering is situated.
A large pavilion-like structure, enclosed on two sides but otherwise open to a majestic view of the gorge and beyond, shelters the bulk of the gathering. Its roof is several stories tall, enough to accommodate their First Forged benefactor should he choose to join them, and what could be considered a dance floor sprawls off to the side. The platform edges have been lined with a railing here unlike most of the others, to waylay any highgrade assisted trips into the gorge itself. Along another wall, nearest the open area, speakers and other equipment have been setup to provide music and other entertainment. One of Vector Prime's Acolytes greets newcomers with a simple nod, and may later be seen looking after the replenishent of refreshments as needed.
Tables of typical Cybertronian height line one wall, where tapped cylinders of softly glowing energon, both standard and highgrade, sit alongside cubes waiting to be filled. Various pieces of make-shift seating suitable to the average mech are scattered around. Central to the pavilion is a wide raised platform, about waist height to the average Cybertronian, designed to allow the shorter attendees to converse with their taller robotic fellows at eye level. Human scale ladders allow access to and from the floor, and occupying the platform is a buffet table accompanied by several mis-matched chairs.
The buffet table is covered with an eclectic assortment of refreshments and serving implements more suitable to organics, mostly non-perishable pantry type goods, (you can be certain there's Twinkies!) along with a odd collection of various alcohols including a bottle or two of whiskey. At the end of one table sits an old refrigerator on its back, now tasked with being a simple ice box, filled entirely with chunks of clean snow and ice from Liege Maximo's quadrant. Accompanying it are wax paper cups and a pitcher of fruity syrup that smells reminiscent of Kool-Aid. (make yourself a snow cone!)
The pavilion is attached to a larger building, two doors at the rear of the pavilion each lead to two separate rooms. One that appears to be in use for the storage of unused supplies and materials while the other is filled with makeshift seating of various sizes, creating a more relaxed atmosphere. To the rear there is access to a second floor, the rooms of which appear to be currently unused.
Barricade and Soundwave have agreed to provide musical entertainment for the evening.
Miko may play some guitar for us if we can find a way to power her amp.
Wing will perform a traditional narrative sword kata with some musical accompaniment.
Vector Prime himself may make an appearance at some point as well.
((---This is COMMUNAL log and designed to be a mixer, so post to note your attendance and then tag around!---))
((If you'd like to do a game, performance or other activity feel free to make a post for it and let me know, then I'll highlight it here.))
((I tried to set a foundation for the scene but leave a lot of stuff open, so feel free to embellish where you like. We have access to pretty much anything that's mundane though likely it comes from the Junk Pile. Feel free to have your character bring something if they want.))
WHERE: One of the larger upper platforms in Vector Prime's Quadrant.
WHEN: Now
WHAT: Mixer for Vectorians and general social gathering for everyone.
WARNINGS: None yet. (But there's booze so...at the very least there might be bad karaoke)
Upon entering Vector Prime's domain it's obvious that things are a foot. The typically serene atmosphere is enlivened with notes of music and the murmur of voices punctuated by the occasional bubble of laughter that filters down from the upper heights, a soft glow of illuminating one of the larger platforms with a structure built on it. Colorful streamers fly from crystalline light poles, marking the way through the various crystal bridges and small platforms, until one reaches the large terrace on which the gathering is situated.
A large pavilion-like structure, enclosed on two sides but otherwise open to a majestic view of the gorge and beyond, shelters the bulk of the gathering. Its roof is several stories tall, enough to accommodate their First Forged benefactor should he choose to join them, and what could be considered a dance floor sprawls off to the side. The platform edges have been lined with a railing here unlike most of the others, to waylay any highgrade assisted trips into the gorge itself. Along another wall, nearest the open area, speakers and other equipment have been setup to provide music and other entertainment. One of Vector Prime's Acolytes greets newcomers with a simple nod, and may later be seen looking after the replenishent of refreshments as needed.
Tables of typical Cybertronian height line one wall, where tapped cylinders of softly glowing energon, both standard and highgrade, sit alongside cubes waiting to be filled. Various pieces of make-shift seating suitable to the average mech are scattered around. Central to the pavilion is a wide raised platform, about waist height to the average Cybertronian, designed to allow the shorter attendees to converse with their taller robotic fellows at eye level. Human scale ladders allow access to and from the floor, and occupying the platform is a buffet table accompanied by several mis-matched chairs.
The buffet table is covered with an eclectic assortment of refreshments and serving implements more suitable to organics, mostly non-perishable pantry type goods, (you can be certain there's Twinkies!) along with a odd collection of various alcohols including a bottle or two of whiskey. At the end of one table sits an old refrigerator on its back, now tasked with being a simple ice box, filled entirely with chunks of clean snow and ice from Liege Maximo's quadrant. Accompanying it are wax paper cups and a pitcher of fruity syrup that smells reminiscent of Kool-Aid. (make yourself a snow cone!)
The pavilion is attached to a larger building, two doors at the rear of the pavilion each lead to two separate rooms. One that appears to be in use for the storage of unused supplies and materials while the other is filled with makeshift seating of various sizes, creating a more relaxed atmosphere. To the rear there is access to a second floor, the rooms of which appear to be currently unused.
Barricade and Soundwave have agreed to provide musical entertainment for the evening.
Miko may play some guitar for us if we can find a way to power her amp.
Wing will perform a traditional narrative sword kata with some musical accompaniment.
Vector Prime himself may make an appearance at some point as well.
((---This is COMMUNAL log and designed to be a mixer, so post to note your attendance and then tag around!---))
((If you'd like to do a game, performance or other activity feel free to make a post for it and let me know, then I'll highlight it here.))
((I tried to set a foundation for the scene but leave a lot of stuff open, so feel free to embellish where you like. We have access to pretty much anything that's mundane though likely it comes from the Junk Pile. Feel free to have your character bring something if they want.))
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Wing's face softens under that gaze, nearly overcome with emotion. "Drift--I...I can't tell you how happy that makes me." His fingertips ghost over the back of Drift's hand, nothing but genuine, raw gratefulness and relief in his expression. It'd been difficult, so difficult in this place, seeing the pain Drift endured because of their history, knowing that even if he was not the cause, he was the trigger.
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"I want you to be happy." Whatever that takes.
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"Then be with me."
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"F-for as long as you want me."
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"Always."
Wing keeps eye contact until the last moment, then with no hesitation and a simple tilt of the head, he takes Drift's mouth with his own.
no subject
The best he can manage is, "I'll try to be worthy," whispered, breathless, just as the other's mouth closes over his.
Wing might not be entirely ready for what he's getting himself into: Drift's arms crush the jet against him, stroking at the wingpanels.
And for a moment he forgets everything: the past, the pain burning in his fuel lines, all of it washed away, dimmed to insignificance, by this.
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All conscious thought is defined by the one in front of him now, their whereabouts and situation outside of this moment fall away as Wing tangles himself with the other mech.
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And then the room seems to spin for real, and he tears himself away, jerking his head hard to one side, clapping a hand over his mouth, trying not to purge his tanks.
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He pulls back a bit, reluctant to let go completely, his voice full of questioning concern. "Drift..?"
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"Sorry. I'm...sorry."
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"What's wrong? Please tell me." The words are gentle, yet imploring.
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Even as he speaks, his knee servos start wobbling.
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He shifts slightly, giving Drift a little more space, but unwilling to pull his hand away after that wobble. "Would some air help? We could go out back..." It's an offer, the pavilion is probably airy enough, but it's also filled with people...
He's still not sure what's going on, but he's doing his best not to worry, to trust that it's really not important, fighting his instincts to help along the way.
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You see? It's nothing.
"No. No. I'm fine." He looks up at Wing, still half-doubled over, wistfully, wishing he could erase the last few moments, go back to before: Wing against him, their EM fields melding and sweet.
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"How long...?"
Maybe it's a slightly selfish question, but Wing knows now that his wants are not his alone. The steadying hand on Drift's shoulder gives a soothing rub, the jet's sympathetic expression all that's needed to say that however long it was, he'd wait.
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Because that's all that matters, right? That's the only use he serves.
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"...still fight?" Wing's face clouds over. Is that the only inconvenience that matters to Drift? Their earlier exchange, a bright point in Wing's life, suddenly dims. It stings, flickering briefly over his face before he can quell it. But it's hard to believe in light of everything else, especially the memory of Drift's eager hands, then his dismay at the interruption. Wing's gold optics search the other mech's face, uncertain, but hoping.
He dares. Because life is about living.
"I'd...think that you'd have things to look forward to other than fighting..." It's an offer, his posture and field receptive, open and vulnerable.
no subject
Seriously. They have priorities. And Drift hates showing weakness. The last thing he needs is to go see Ratchet and be told he's being a baby.
He can't meet Wing's gaze, because Wing, as always, was a bright promise he knew he would only let down.
"I want to, but Wing. Realistically. Fighting is all I know."
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"Is that all you're determined to know?" It's an honest question, but more than that, it's an idea challenge.
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"No. But it's what I am right now. And let's face it, I could die before I learn anything else."
Wow. That came out sounding more fatalistic than he'd intended.
Ooh sorry, apparently that's a button he has!
But Wing nods, slow and tight, because it's all he has. Acquiesce or force the issue, and after he'd already spent so much time forcing his requirements, his values on Drift in the past, the latter does not seem kind. He has no right to make demands based on his own selfish need for peace of mind.
But what? Those words. They're unexpected and Wing twitches as if struck, his hands falling away. He stares at Drift a moment in a combination of shock and horror, until he tears his optics away, letting a shadow fall over his face.
The jet's field pulls in tight; what was plush and clinging now hard and relentless. The soft scrape of metal on metal, Wing's dentae, before he whips his gaze back to Drift, fierce now.
"So, what then? Are you saying there's no point to anything else? Day after day, die or survive, is that all you want out of life? Is it?!" The words spill forth, charged with emotion that Drift's only heard once before. Amber optics, over-bright, search Drift's face.
"Tell me what you want Drift!"
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"No!" He nearly shouted back. "It's not what I want. I did that for centuries down in the gutters. It's why I fought to begin with, because I wanted more than that." He's stung, because this hits deep.
"What I want is--"
you
"--something else. Peace. How to do something other than fight. But I might not have time. And that...hurts."
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"If not, then why!? Why all of this?" Wing's anger boils down into fear, a quiver through the hard shell of his field. "The way you're talking, it's scaring me."
Then suddenly it strikes him. This whole scenario suddenly feels familiar, only from the other side. It snatches at his spark and he can't push it away. Wing catches hold of Drift, a hand on each arm, as if Wing might lose him already.
"Drift. The night before the battle, in Crystal City. When I was certain I was out of time, I thought to confess my feelings to you. At the last minute I changed my mind, because it felt selfish of me and cruel to you."
He shakes his helm, giving those arms a squeeze. "I regret that choice now, because it robbed you of yours, and robbed us both of something...better." Brief, but beautiful.
"Please Drift...what aren't you telling me?"
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"Wing, I..." He's cut short by the confession. Well, the confession of the almost confession. Wing had...? Even then? "But...why? After what I'd done?"
"Wing. I--I don't want you hurt. Not by me, not again."
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"In a strange way, because of it." He shakes his head, bidding for more words, because he knows that alone sounds absurd. "Was I angry, disappointed, even hurt when I found out you'd snuck out, and that you'd made the deal? Yes, of course. And it did plenty to dampen the infatuation I had with you then."
"But Drift, you should have seen yourself in the council chamber. In front of the entire Circle and Dai Atlas, of your own free will, trying to make right your mistake. That's when I knew I'd been right. That's when I knew you'd truly chosen. Because change is easy when there's no friction, no resistance, no test of your will. I saw your resolve that day tested and frankly," his lips spread into a wistful smile, "It was beautiful to behold."
Wing's grip loosens and he rubs his thumbs over the plating in soft apology.
"Drift...I know you don't want me hurt. But we can't always avoid making mistakes or hurting others. The important part is doing what's right to reconcile."
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