knowhen | EVENT ONE: JUNE 21ST-28TH

It's good that Wing's seeing the best of Drift in this, because otherwise it'd be gloriously embarrassing. It still is to some extent, though Drift doesn't have time for the regret, not in mid-combat.

The word 'friend' from Wing's vocalizer resonates in Drift's spark like an echo from the past, one of the first things the knight had ever spoken to him. It meant nothing to him then, he'd scoffed and discarded it like rubbish, but today he cherishes it like an irreplaceable treasure.

The rest of what Wing has to say though, makes Drift's engine sputter. "AH-ha! Of all things in this place to find me attractive." Really. What is his life?! Can he vote for a new arch-attraction-nemesis? Because this thing goes way beyond unwelcome touch.

"I think we have to go for center of mass. Maybe there's something vital there?" The regeneration thing is getting out of hand, now with a few little guys and the big one who just leers smugly at them.

There's nothing embarrassing about fighting off an attack by nameless enemies, stranger. It's actually quite noble, especially if, like himself, this other Cybertronian was new here.

"Maybe it's just more forward than others here." Oh sorry, is this an inappropriate time for flirting?

BZZZZZ wrong answer: there's never an inappropriate time for flirting. Well, okay, maybe a funeral. But this? This was what Wing had pledged his life to: to fight alongside his fellow Cybertronians, and save lives. Which makes it absolutely flirtatious fair game.

"It's worth a shot." And by that, he means, right now, diving into the mass of enemies, one blade stabbing at the central blob of the strange body.

Noble is not exactly a common Driftish adjective but the swordmech tries, he really tries.

"Others?" Drift really is oblivious sometimes. And even if he reads an alternate meaning into any of that, clearly it's his own over active wishful thinking. "I can appreciate forwardness. Just...not beyond the first 'no thanks'."

And seriously, what says 'no thanks' better than a sword blade to the midsection? This thing really should take a hint. Drift's getting antsy now, because Ugly here is between him and a reunion with Wing. He steps it up, sweeping around the jet with arcing cuts that pass through all the little offshoots, bisecting them completely. And given the howl from the strange mouth of the adult, Wing's hit something vital.

"Well. Other," he corrects himself. Because there's only one other person here beyond the tentaclefoe, and that's Wing. "I'll remember that," he says, with a little wink, though he hopes the new mech at least gets to know him before he says 'no'. Wing can be very persuasive.

Without tentacles.

Wing steps back after his slash, blades at the ready, watching the thing. It's hard to tell if it's flailing or attacking, but it sure is doing a lot of movement. "I'll register that as a complaint from it, don't you think?"

Okay, is that really flirting? Because Drift needs to know stat. The wink makes his spark quiver and it travels through the rest of his frame.

"Can't imagine anyone telling you 'no thanks'." Just the thanks part, which will be coming some time soon. But look! Drift can flirt, sort of, even if it's just a simple and genuine compliment.

Tentaclefoe needs to go though.

"Complaint definitely registered," he says a little smugly, and rather than trying to decipher whatever the flailing is, Drift's going to issue a swift kick to its center of mass, sending it over the bridge railing. He's showing off a little maybe. Oh yeah, that was pretty smooth. Hopefully the thing doesn't grab his ankle on the way over.

If Wing flirts any harder with the stranger, he may sprain a pinion. Which would then, obviously, need a kiss to make better.

"Oh there was one, once. Though he didn't say 'thank you'." And to his mind, once was just earlier today, when he'd stood on the sand, ready to face battle next to Drift.

After the battle, though, Drift would be free of Braid and his slavers, and then...well...Wing could hope to change his mind.

The thing is definitely into Drift, flailing a tentacle at the ankle, just as he might fear, but Wing slashes out, one blade neatly severing the creature's limb, so it topples over the edge. He turns, grinning. "I think we make a pretty good team, don't you?"

If that's what's necessary to make things better? Sign Drift up! He is happy, obliged even, to assist. It'd only be righ to rectify things. Aside from it being his pleasure, mind you.

"There was? Who would that stu--" Oh. Wait. He was incredibly stupid once upon his stupidly stubborn life. Right. Biting that one off with a cough, as he switches his hips in an effort to keep his balance while Wing frees his ankle. If anyone here is going to be 'into' Drift, that guy's last on the list! Not that there's much of a list at all really...

"Team?" This is what flabbergasted sounds like, with a dash of startlingly pleased. Drift just stares, a little openly mind, drinking in the view of a living Wing. "Yeah. We did make a pretty good team, once upon a time."

If 'team' means Wing yelling at him and Drift actually listening for once that is.

Edited 2014-06-24 13:52 (UTC)

"Stubborn?" That's clearly what the other mech had meant. "He was new to my city. He...kind of looked a little like you." Especially around the helm, with those adorable finials like cat ears.

He pauses to look over at the railing, twitching at the loud, wet sort of 'sploop' as the creature hit the ground below. Well, he's no threat any more, except to a cleaning crew.

"We did?" That whips his head around. "Do I know you, friend?" He should, he realizes, because that looks like a Great Sword on the other's back.

"Wing...." The name falls from his mouth like a plea, to please remember him, to recognize him. And maybe it's a good sign, one that he's come so far that he's not recognizable as the stubborn, petulant Decepticon that Wing knew.

And that reminder--that Wing only had the chance to know that stubborn and lost mech--wrenches his spark in its chamber.

"Wing...it's me." He edges forward, swords finding their sheathes again so his hands can come out, open, imploring... "It's been a long time but...it really is me."

Please say his name Wing. The one that sings in his spark, not the one that caged it. He needs to hear it.

Maybe if he scowled, he'd be more familiar? But now that the threat is gone, he turns to face the other, full on, his gold optics tilting as he studies the earnest face before him.

But it hasn't been that long for Wing--only a few cycles ago, he'd stood near Drift, ready to face the slavers, ready to give his life for the other's freedom. But the voice, and the finials, and the face....

"...Drift?"

Oh the scowl's still around, maybe not as deep as it used to be though. And not around Wing. It's just that all the false ideas he'd stubbornly armored himself with are gone now and he's naked and earnest before Wing, the other's light burning those scowls away now.

Drift nods, maybe too eagerly, wanting to reach out and touch, reassure himself that Wing is real.

"How? How did you..." He swallows around the static rising in his vocalizer, unable to go on.

See? It's not Wing's fault. It's the Mystery of the Missing Scowl. Which, well, he's not missing so much right now.

"How did I end up here? The same as you, I imagine. But," because if this is Drift he looks quite different, "it appears we have a lot to catch up on."

Let's just not solve that mystery, Drift likes having a face that does more than two things. And if Wing is here...maybe there's the option for a lot more things it can do...

"No I mean, you... The battle... I..."

And he just can't do it. He can't bring himself to bring that dark knowledge into this space. It tears at him and he shoves it down, not wanting to darken Wing's light with the knowledge of his own death. He'll bear that alone.

"I'm just glad to see you," he offers instead, hands hovering around Wing's arms because Drift just wants to scoop him up into a hug but stops himself at the last minute, uncertain it's welcome.

Well, fine, but only if they replace that mystery with an exploration of what new things Drift can do with his face.

"The battle?" It was a bit of an overstatement, Wing thought, to consider one tentacle beast and its admittedly annoying tentakids a 'battle' but...

"Oh. Oh." He gives a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I was just about to, you know, before I was here."

But Drift looks upset, for some reason. Or unhappy. Or something. Well, not all problems get solved by slicing them to deli meat. Some problems need hugging. He's figuring this is one of those. And if not, he could throw Drift across the room for old time's sake?

Drift's good with exploring. Especially if it goes...maybe...in the direction of smooching? That's a thing he can do with his face. ~~Probably more of his face than is really necessary. No accounting for skill, and all.~~

"Oh. So. You haven't been in the battle. With Braid. Yet?" He's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing just an awkward thing. Other than the fact that Wing is still alive and that's 100% all that matters. He's also 100% good with hugs, 150% even. Drift'll also take being thrown around...as long as it's not off the bridge into the pile of tentagoop three levels down. He needs a washrack bad enough already as it is.

And maybe that hug is a little bit too fierce, his arms almost afraid to circle entirely around Wing but the grips of his hands are tight as he pulls Wing against him with a muffled sound. Not only is it Wing, here, alive in this strange place, but the jet is the first of his kind that he's seen in quite a while. Not that he hadn't expected to run across other Cybertronians, he was just pretty sure they wouldn't be friendly.

A few hours ago, and he was going to his death, and now, it seems as though all of life itself has opened up before him--Drift, this place, everything. It's almost a little dizzying, so he's glad, really, for the fierce hug.

"No, we were going to face him. I'm...I'm glad you're free, Drift." What else is there to say?

It's almost like a point of solidity, grounding each other here in this storm of the unknown. At least that's how Drift sees it, and he lingers in the hug for an extra moment, trying to memorize the sound of Wing's systems and the unique smell of the oil he uses.

And then Drift pulls away with a nervous laugh, realizing how creepy he's probably being. "Sorry. It's. uh. been a long time for me. THAT IS. SinceIlastsawyou, I mean..."

Yeah. Drift is a smooth operator all right.

"I have you to thank for that. You changed everything." It's totally inadequate as thank yous go. But hey, he's gotta start somewhere.

He ex-vents a sigh as Drift finally pulls away. It probably was wise, though, not to stay too huggy right now--there may be more of those creatures out there!

"Later," he says, because he's not really sure he can handle all this truth all at once. And 'later' means they have a later, which is a treasure unto itself.

"All you have to thank is yourself for being true to your spark, Drift." Anyting Wing had done to help that didn't require thanks.

The last thing Drift needs is another tentacreep joining in on the hugging. Could it get any more awkward than that?

"I just needed some help really seeing it." He flashes another smile before getting back to the dangerous business at hand. "Right. Later, we can catch up. Promise. Right now though, where are you headed?"

Hey, don't kinkshame, Drift.

But a tentacled monster with unpleasant intentions would be an interruption here.

"We all need help sometimes, Drift. That's why we're social creatures. No one can do it alone." That's why the Circle of Light was a circle.

But maybe he can save the preaching for later, too, when things--and his own emotions--have settled down. "I was just trying to get the lay of the land here. And...maybe, trying to find a way to speak to it?"

Hey, he'll try anything once so long as there's consent and stuff! But that guy had a bad attitude. ~~And maybe Drift isn't ready to share.~~

He smiles at the sentiment. Drift's missed that preachiness, Wing, and he's glad he finally has an oppurtunity to appreciate it. "Well...you don't have to do that alone. If, you know, you want company?"

Well true, that guy was rude.

But Wing's toned down the preachiness just for you, Drift! Only because there's so much to explore here, not just Drift, that he's a little giddy.

"I'd love your company. No one else I'd rather have by my side if we run into one of...those things again." A beat. "What was that, anyway?"

Toned down is good, Drift learns a lot better these days through simple conversation, no robojudo throws as punctuation required.

"Sorry, what?" You lost him at 'no one else I'd rather have by my side'. He's off in the clouds for a moment, until Wing's next question brings him back. "I'm not sure, none of the species here are familiar at all."

Well, maybe they could repurpose the sparring to something more fun.

"Why do you think I volunteered to fight Braid with you, Drift?" All right, it was a bit more than 'you look fun to fight alongside', and Wing hopes the little smile at the end of the phrase conveys that.

"I ran into one earlier. She said she was an, uh, human?" Weird. But kind of cute.

Drift is all for this plan, whatever 'more fun' happens to be. Anything to spend more time with the jet though, whom he never had enough time with in the first place.

And maybe sparring could become fun too, more for actual sword lessons than moral ones?

"I thought..." He thought a lot of things back then, most them misguided at worst and confused at best. "I assumed you'd done it for the city..." To make up for his folly, for bringing that Decepticon into their midst, the one who'd ruined it all.

He doesn't miss the smile though, and the one Drift offers back is hopeful, that they could maybe get past all that and become something else, something better.

"Humans? There're humans here?" That's not him looking concerned. Except it is. "Was she, uh, nice?"

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