re_alignment | [VIDEO]

Entry tags:

✘ tf: g1 | perceptor (crau)

[VIDEO]

[The video feed, when it clicks on, is a bit chaotic, the picture jerking about roughly. What landscape that can be discerned in the image, however, seems to be near the border of the badlands. Something large, mechanical, and sharp suddenly slashes into the frame and then back out again, like a weapon being thrust toward the camera.]

AAhhhhh! Cease and desist at once, you arachnid annoyance!

[Perceptor briefly flails into view for a moment, looking a bit flustered, before he ducks out of view again under another swipe of that weapon. Or rather, not a weapon, as the view shifts wildly to pan across a massive robotic spider with very large fangs lowered threateningly toward the camera.]

[As the view swings wildly again, there are muffled thuds and thumps and the thick clang of metal against metal that seem to hint at an epic struggle. Perceptor looks much more harried when he bounces into view again.]

I, ah, seem to have stumbled into a bit of an inconvenience... wherever this location is. If anyone is nearby, assistance would be greatly appreciated!

[There is an odd, almost liquid sound that splatters into the feed, and a sudden yelp from Perceptor as a stream of thick, greyish goop blasts past his head.]

As soon as possible?

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[He's startled at the touch on his shoulder, as much as the familiarity of the words.]

_{You don't know me, Perceptor. Whatever you think, it's not me.}

[Perceptor sighs softly; this, too, is familiar enough to him. He closes the distance between them, trying to step around Drift to make him stop for a moment.]

Perhaps you are correct. [He holds a hand up here to forestall any interjections Drift might attempt to make.] But I know that sword, and I knew one who carried it.

He was a Decepticon, once. A particularly... violent one. Many Autobots fell to his hands, and he did not merely believe in what he'd thought was the Decepticon way, he'd believed it strongly, and with every mote of his spark. There was no price too high to pay for victory, no life too precious.

He is-- ...was... almost eager, sometimes, to tell me of the atrocities he'd committed as Deadlock. What had always been more difficult to wrest from him were the descriptions of before, of the events which gave rise to the Decepticon he'd been. As if he refused to allow himself the temptation of rationalization.

I cannot condone all of the actions Deadlock performed, however, I can understand, if only a little, why Deadlock came to be.

[If Drift will allow him, Perceptor will reach for and cradle one of Drift's hands between his own, one thumb gently massaging the swordsmech's palm as he stares pensively down at that hand he holds.]

I am not certain that I will ever see him again. I know, though, that Drift will never be content with his hands, because he will always see Deadlock's hand when he looks upon them.

I do not.I see Drift, and Drift's hands do more than merely hold a sword.

[What do you do when someone knows more about you than you know about them? When they know more about you than you've ever willingly disclosed to anyone?]

...that's because I could do that again. [His voice is soft, admitting something he doesn't even dare tell Wing. Wing thinks he's perfect. Wing thinks everyone is perfect. And he wants to be perfect for Wing but he knows--he knows--he's not perfect.]

I could fall that far again, thinking I was doing right but I don't think I could pull myself out again.

[He shrugs, his hand curling in Perceptor's.] That's all I do, though. I'm a weapon. All I want is to give my life for the right cause.

[It really isn't fair of Perceptor to use what he knows of his Drift. It really isn't fair that Perceptor knows anything about a Drift at all. It's just happenstance, luck, and sheer stubbornness.]

[Many, many long "nights" of patience, of offering tiny gestures of friendship, of waiting and wanting. The physical part had come so much easier between them. There had still been moments when Drift had seemed so new to himself, had fallen back to action rather than words, out of habits long established. Words were harder for him, harder for him to force out, harder for him to face. And yet, he'd thrust them at Perceptor, sometimes, as if trying to push that wedge between them.]

[Trying to chase Perceptor away with the images that were worse than nightmares, because they were memories of things Drift had done under another name. It had only been so recently, mere weeks, that Drift had finally begun to trust him enough to share these things.]

[It really isn't fair to this Drift that Perceptor knows what little he does know, for it is but a little, compared to the vast pool of harsh memories and night terrors that Drift has lived. Perceptor can be ruthless, though, sometimes, if the cause is right, and if this knowledge, however unfair, is enough to weave a lifeline out of for this Drift, then Perceptor will use it and regret to himself only the injustice of it. He has sins enough that this one will fit among the others with little stir.]

[He gives Drift's hand a reassuring squeeze, and shakes his head.]

Dying for the right cause is easy, Drift. It is living for the right cause that is the most difficult task. The Drift I know would not take the easy road, given the choice.

[He pauses, dragging his gaze up from their joined hands to Drift's face, his optics, seeking...]

If it means anything to you, he came from quite shortly after putting on the Autobot badge. If... if it does mean something, and you were that Drift... then you have some so very far from who you and he once were. I will believe in you, as I believe in him.

[He smiles sadly, offers a hint of a shrug.]

And if it means nothing, and you are not he, nor he, you... I shall believe in you anyway; a character flaw of mine, if you will, to trust.

Edited 2012-08-27 03:21 (UTC)

[He smiles. Because you sound like Wing.] I know. I'm trying. We won the war, and it's...harder than I thought.

[His smile turns a bit sad. ] It's hard for all of us, I think. Like none of us know how to do anything but war.

Don't believe in anything. [He extricates his hand from Perceptor's, bumping the other's chestplate. ] Believe in yourself.

[Perceptor returns that sad smile with one of his own.]

I do not remember a time without war. I wish that I could have seen your city.

[His smile widens, just a fraction.]

Is there any reason that I cannot do both?

Edited 2012-08-28 02:05 (UTC)

I do. The war was almost an improvement. At least we felt like we were finally doing something.

[Which is why it's hard to let go of that last darkness, the knowledge that he'd started with every intention of doing good.]

I wish I could have enjoyed it while I was there. [A rueful shrug, and an awkward scuffle of feet, before he turns his gaze back toward Solus's temple.] You can, probably. I find it hard enough to manage just the one.

The war on my Cybertron had a different origin than yours. I know that I have memories from before, but I find them difficult to access. As if they are the memories of someone else, and I am merely observing them, third-hand, as it were.

[He shrugs; it's less a careless gesture and more a shield he's trying to assume.]

I envy the ones who were selected to go. Even still, I find it hard to imagine fleeing, and allowing others to fight for me. Not that I am any sort of combatant. [He laughs ruefully and shakes his head.] Still, it does not feel... right.

[He glances sidelong at Drift as he turns back toward the temple they are approaching.] Then when you have difficulty, I shall attempt to remind you. [And Perhaps Drift can return the favor? Perceptor always has had more luck at believing in others than believing in himself. His skills? No problem. Him? much more difficult.]

[A rueful sigh.] I wish I could forget the war. [He falters, because, in a way, he doesn't want to forget. He wants to remember, so it never happens again. ]

If you have a function other than fighting, a world at peace needs you. Very much. Mechs like me only seem important during combat. It's our job to fight. And fighting to protect something worth protecting is the best my kind can hope for.

[Sometimes, he hadn't even had that.]

[Perceptor offers a gentle smile.]

A "mech like you" has been my closest companion for some months now, and only a bare, infinitismal fraction of that time was spent in combat. He, and you, have a far greater value to mechs like me than merely your ability to swing a sword, Drift.

[He sighs again, fixing Drift with a sad, but somehow hopeful, look.]

Is there truly nothing else you hope to be allowed to aspire to?

[Drift snorts.] All I've done since I've been here is nearly die, and get tortured.

[So, not so much for the value, right?]

I just want to be...I don't know. Everyone keeps asking me that, but I just want to make a better world.

[Prepare for a hug, Drift, because telling Perceptor things like "nearly dying" and "getting tortured" makes him want to hug you with extreme prejudice. Which he then does.]

[ERK!!!]

[Drift is not used to being hugged. Not even in the weird Cyclonus-hugs-Whirl way.]

_{I'm...er...I got better?}

Obviously. [That's a little muffled, because Perceptor has not yet released Drift. He finally does, though, and steps back, hands still upon Drift's shoulders as he peers up and down Drift's frame with a critical optic. Again.]

Your obvious physical improvement does not make what you were forced to endure acceptable, however. It merely makes it the past.

It's all right. I mean, it's not the worst thing that's happened to me. And the past has a way of not staying that way.

[Your cunning plan to reassure Perceptor is... really having very much the opposite effect here Drift. Perceptor frowns with worry, his lower lip-plate protruding out subtly in what isn't quite a pout-- but it's close.]

Simply because you are more than capable of enduring, Drift, does not make it acceptable.

[He worries that lower lip-plate for a moment, looking down at his feet.]

I know I am not any sort of... of warrior... not like you, that is... However, [He looks back up now, and there's something hard and a little fierce in his too-bright gaze.] I promise to help protect you, as you have done for me.

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