Perceptor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gunfondlingbattlestat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2013-07-08 12:33 am
gunfondlingbattlestat) wrote in re_alignment_logs2013-07-08 12:33 am
the only problem with running from yourself is that you are always there
WHO: IDW Perceptor and whoever might be outside the bounds of Haven
WHERE: Beyond Haven's boundaries, into the wastes
WHEN: Right after Wing's display during the Games and Airshow
WHAT: Perceptor's running from himself.
WARNINGS: Wangst of the emo variety.
With all of Haven still at the Games, there's no one to see Perceptor as he flees back to his new room in Vector Prime's temple. No one to see as he gathers his few things, shoulders his rifle, tucks away the extra charge packs and clips for his pistols. No one to see as he hesitates over a datapad lying innocuously on his small desk.
It had been so beautiful. Wing had been so beautiful. So open and perfect, and Drift... Perceptor's vents hitch in a choked off sound as he remembers the look of awe Drift had worn while watching Wing. The way their bodies had entwined upon that platform, as if binary stars were completing their dance into a single nova.
As if they had been coming home to the place they had always been meant to be.
What place had Perceptor in such a perfect union?
Wing had tried to reassure him that his request would change nothing. That Perceptor would still be welcome. Wing... Wing is just that perfect, except for his inability to see, really see the truth about Perceptor.
He'd always been a stopgap. Perceptor can see that now. Just... just something for Drift to warm his broken heart by until it could be healed. Not by him, though, of course not. Nor does he resent Drift for that; how can he? Drift had given of himself so selflessly. Had risked himself to save the broken wretch Perceptor had been.
Kup had been right. Drift... Drift should have just left him there on that ship. Except that Drift never could leave one in such need. Drift is too pure for such a base sentiment. He always had been, ever since Wing.
And now, Drift has his Wing back, and there's no need for Perceptor. Perceptor can give Drift nothing that Wing cannot. Nothing but melancholy and bad memories of more violent times.
Perceptor should never have intruded. Wing is far too gracious, too giving, to have offered Perceptor...
Perceptor should have refused. He should have stepped back and stayed out of it. Stayed away and let Drift... let him be happy.
For a moment, Perceptor is angry. Angry at Wing for giving him hope, angry at Drift for loving Wing, angry at Wing for being everything that Perceptor can't be. That isn't fair, though. Wing had been there first, had been here first, is everything Drift really needs. Perceptor...
It isn't Wing's fault that Perceptor is just broken. Nor should Drift have to be saddled with such an anchor. Not when they are so obviously meant to be; the image of their embrace will be seared into his memories forever.
Perceptor glances over the empty, anonymous room one last time, the datapad in his hand, his few possessions already tucked away about his person. They don't need him here. Drift and Wing have each other, Prowl has his solution for Tarn, Ambulon has other, more qualified medics, and, once Pereptor leaves the datapad at Wing and Drift's room, Wing will have all the information he needs to grow the crystals he'd wanted for that memorial garden. There's even another Perceptor here, somewhere, to provide any other science anyone might need.
There's a curious sort of liberation, Perceptor muses as he leaves the datapad with the crystal formulation directions on the desk of Wing's room, to being so superfluous. Perhaps they might miss him briefly, but then the relief of not having to coordinate with him, share with him, should quickly wash that away. The relief of being free of the burden he is, free to concentrate on one another, as it should be.
Conjux Endura.
No ties, no fetters, his every skill duplicated by someone else... and Drift, safe with Wing. Even his work for Prowl is complete, though Perceptor hasn't seen it's fruition. He isn't needed here. Not in Haven, anyway.
One final stop by the deserted bar supplies Perceptor with as much energon as he can carry. Enough for a little while. Enough, hopefully, to make himself useful out beyond Haven. There has to be something valuable and worthwhile out there that he can bring back. That way, no one worthwhile need endanger themselves... and if he falls...
At least Drift will still be complete with his Conjux Endura.
Perceptor makes certain to exit Haven in the opposite direction of the caldera where the Games are winding down. After all, closing ceremonies will be over soon, and he needs to be well beyond Haven and out of sight before anyone spots him hiking resolutely away.
WHERE: Beyond Haven's boundaries, into the wastes
WHEN: Right after Wing's display during the Games and Airshow
WHAT: Perceptor's running from himself.
WARNINGS: Wangst of the emo variety.
With all of Haven still at the Games, there's no one to see Perceptor as he flees back to his new room in Vector Prime's temple. No one to see as he gathers his few things, shoulders his rifle, tucks away the extra charge packs and clips for his pistols. No one to see as he hesitates over a datapad lying innocuously on his small desk.
It had been so beautiful. Wing had been so beautiful. So open and perfect, and Drift... Perceptor's vents hitch in a choked off sound as he remembers the look of awe Drift had worn while watching Wing. The way their bodies had entwined upon that platform, as if binary stars were completing their dance into a single nova.
As if they had been coming home to the place they had always been meant to be.
What place had Perceptor in such a perfect union?
Wing had tried to reassure him that his request would change nothing. That Perceptor would still be welcome. Wing... Wing is just that perfect, except for his inability to see, really see the truth about Perceptor.
He'd always been a stopgap. Perceptor can see that now. Just... just something for Drift to warm his broken heart by until it could be healed. Not by him, though, of course not. Nor does he resent Drift for that; how can he? Drift had given of himself so selflessly. Had risked himself to save the broken wretch Perceptor had been.
Kup had been right. Drift... Drift should have just left him there on that ship. Except that Drift never could leave one in such need. Drift is too pure for such a base sentiment. He always had been, ever since Wing.
And now, Drift has his Wing back, and there's no need for Perceptor. Perceptor can give Drift nothing that Wing cannot. Nothing but melancholy and bad memories of more violent times.
Perceptor should never have intruded. Wing is far too gracious, too giving, to have offered Perceptor...
Perceptor should have refused. He should have stepped back and stayed out of it. Stayed away and let Drift... let him be happy.
For a moment, Perceptor is angry. Angry at Wing for giving him hope, angry at Drift for loving Wing, angry at Wing for being everything that Perceptor can't be. That isn't fair, though. Wing had been there first, had been here first, is everything Drift really needs. Perceptor...
It isn't Wing's fault that Perceptor is just broken. Nor should Drift have to be saddled with such an anchor. Not when they are so obviously meant to be; the image of their embrace will be seared into his memories forever.
Perceptor glances over the empty, anonymous room one last time, the datapad in his hand, his few possessions already tucked away about his person. They don't need him here. Drift and Wing have each other, Prowl has his solution for Tarn, Ambulon has other, more qualified medics, and, once Pereptor leaves the datapad at Wing and Drift's room, Wing will have all the information he needs to grow the crystals he'd wanted for that memorial garden. There's even another Perceptor here, somewhere, to provide any other science anyone might need.
There's a curious sort of liberation, Perceptor muses as he leaves the datapad with the crystal formulation directions on the desk of Wing's room, to being so superfluous. Perhaps they might miss him briefly, but then the relief of not having to coordinate with him, share with him, should quickly wash that away. The relief of being free of the burden he is, free to concentrate on one another, as it should be.
Conjux Endura.
No ties, no fetters, his every skill duplicated by someone else... and Drift, safe with Wing. Even his work for Prowl is complete, though Perceptor hasn't seen it's fruition. He isn't needed here. Not in Haven, anyway.
One final stop by the deserted bar supplies Perceptor with as much energon as he can carry. Enough for a little while. Enough, hopefully, to make himself useful out beyond Haven. There has to be something valuable and worthwhile out there that he can bring back. That way, no one worthwhile need endanger themselves... and if he falls...
At least Drift will still be complete with his Conjux Endura.
Perceptor makes certain to exit Haven in the opposite direction of the caldera where the Games are winding down. After all, closing ceremonies will be over soon, and he needs to be well beyond Haven and out of sight before anyone spots him hiking resolutely away.
no subject
He's going to have to do a lot of investigation and a lot of lying to people in the meantime.
With the way things are going now, Prowl's starting to think the people of Haven just need one more sacrificial lamb to confirm the story he's been pushing.
no subject
If it weren't that Drift was endangered by Tarn, Perceptor wouldn't even work that quickly. But he won't risk Drift's safety.