[Drift has looked better. His armor's dented and stained, but nothing looks obviously fatal. More than that, he looks...tired. And twitchy. Which is not a good combination in anyone, least of all him.]

Going back out to the Badlands.

Don't follow.

((OOC: because of his canon (D-Void) and having been into the Badlands twice already, he's feeling the effects of the Calling sooner than anyone else. BUT feel free to comm him or stop him or whatever! ))

I've always got some kinda filter goin'. Deep in my head, all out, audial's going.

I hear a lot of stuff. Everyone-- everyone has their own rhythm. A beat, volume, big ol' crescendo, nice little legato. It's such an inspiration, to hear everyone. I guess it's gotta be, because it never stops.

There's a new song, dudes.

It's awful.

Question for the class.

[The thing about building a swoop bike is that you need a decent space to work in, and to build and stock up a workshop you need supplies, and when the supplies are whatever scrap you can rustle up... well, if there's anything Revan likes, it's a challenge.]

[The feed shows a grimy, very dusty Jedi, sitting on... imagine someone took a motorcycle, stripped it down to its bare essentials, ditched the wheels, and screwed on a couple of flimsy-looking stabilizer foils for good measure. Even in this stripped-down state, it's clearly missing many vital parts. Like an engine. Won't be running any time soon. Revan has an... introspective expression on her face. Looks like she's pulled an all-nighter at the med bay.]

Let's say you've done some nasty stuff in the past. Back when you were young and stupid and thought you were going to change the world. And it... only recently hit you how bad things really got.

Not specifying what, exactly; what counts as "bad"'s gonna be different wherever you come from.

Now, my question is, what do you do about that?

 [The feed opens to show everyone's favourite crow girl, who...in all honesty has been in better spirits. In fact, she's nothing like how she usually is.  Instead of bouncing around, she's taken to remaining curled in a beanbag chair in her room, holding the link as if it could disappear at any moment.  Her eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks are tear streaked, it's...it's a mess.  When she realizes the feed is on, those eyes harden for a moment.]

I want to see everyone right now. Bad things happen when people leave.

[She's rather short on words right now.]

( Private to Soundwave )

( Private to Cliffjumper )

[Only Dirge's upper half is visible above a pile of scrap- he's been spending most of his time in the junkyard rather than the living space provided at the temple. Every once and a while he's been leaving with armfuls of stuff and heading back towards his room.]

...It's hard to think. [He's mumbling, mostly to himself but somewhat directed at the camera.]

I have enough trouble with that without something else crowding my processor. [He's sorting trash, slowly and methodically, with much less enthusiasm than usual.]

I want to go somewhere. To look for something. But I don't know what it is. [Growl] It's very frustrating.

[Blurr is in the Police Headquarters, a data pad in his hands and a sour expression on his face. He was gone all the weekend exploring with Jetfire, Wing and Starscream, and he was not expecting such bad news when he came back.

So many lives lost to bring down Overlord. So many of his friends and…Wheeljack. Blurr’s frowning increases and he stares at the table in front of him for a nanocklic. A few seconds later said table is flying across the room and out of the window.

He feels a bit better after that kick, but it’s a small relief. He’s so angry with himself, with everything, that he’s trembling. After a few seconds Blurr notices that he was recording and he quickly turns off the video function.]

[>Text! Open]

I know the customs in my Cybertron but none of them were form my universe.

How do you honor a fallen warrior in your world?


[Text |Locked to Ultra Magnus.]

Ultra Magnus, a word with you if you please.

[/locked]