Wing moves, restless, around the group, leaving an encouraging word or a soft touch with individuals here and there. Morale building, the knight thinks, though in truth it's also a way to keep busy, to not think about what's to come.

Eventually he comes to rest slightly apart from the crowd, to try and achieve some stillness, some control. He wishes he could meditate, though this is not the time nor the place. Instead he perches, leaned back against a rock outcropping to still his rustling wings. His face, drawn in an expression of contemplation, pinches from time to time as his pinions twitch with agitation.

It betrays his nerves to the keen observer. This was the first pitched battle since defending Crystal City, and he doesn't want to draw parallels. Their force was sizable, though by all accounts the enemy's numbers are far, far greater. The first invasion of sharkticons had been different: sudden and frantic and in a way exciting. He never had time to consider failure. He shouldn't allow himself to now, though it lurks at the edges of his thoughts regardless. It occurs to him, now, that he has so more to lose than he did when first arriving. And as before, in Crystal City, all that he's wanted and not been able to do.

It doesn't change his mind though, Wing is set on this course with a steadfast determination. Perhaps it's not the same as going into battle with all his brethren Knights, but there are plenty of worthy people here and Haven, Cybertron, needed them all. He'd do his best and no less.

((Feel free to approach him or be someone he approaches.))