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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 12:54:32 GMT -5
"This is not about winning or losing some arbitrary game of who bears the most blame, Drift," Perceptor sighs explosively. "This is about you accepting that you are not alone. Not unless you want to be."
Perceptor shrugs then and looks down, shoulders slumping. "And if that is the case, then why did you even come down here?" Drift does not even know him. Did not even know him, even in Drift's own reality.
Perceptor wearily looks back up. "So which was it, then, Drift? Did you 'get him killed'? Or did you kill him with your own hands? It is one or the other, because the two do not work together."
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Post by Drift on Mar 24, 2011 13:54:43 GMT -5
Drift's mouth narrows at Perceptor's outburst. "Not a matter of 'accepting' or not." That sounded like some doofy Autobot mumbo-jumbo. "Better off alone," he says, truculently. "Safer that way." For everyone.
Drift has a lot of answers to Perceptor's question. None of them very nice to himself or anyone else. Here, have a free sample. "Wanted to see what I'd saved. If it was worth it." It's a vile thing to say, and it tastes like scorched oil.
"I betrayed him and didn't help when I could have." His optics grow hard. "This after he risked everything--twice--to save me."
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 14:29:49 GMT -5
"Safer?" Perceptor asks, optics narrowing shrewdly. He has a few "not very nice" things to say himself. "Curious. You did not initially strike me as a coward."
Drift is, perhaps, expecting some sort of pained reaction from Perceptor. A flinch, a twitch, a denial. Who knows but Drift himself? Sadly, these are sentiments far too similar to those Perceptor has had regarding himself for too many times already, and he is stoic in the face of the hurtful words.
"Your reasoning is flawed; I am not he, no matter how similar he and I may be. I am myself, with all of my own flaws and failures, and none of his virtues," he replies evenly. And none of what I am merits what you did for him. "Therefor, I cannot answer your question, although I suspect that the answer for him would be greatly different than the answer for the same circumstances for me."
"As for your own explanation, without knowing the actual circumstances of the events which you reference, I can neither agree, nor disagree with your summation. I find myself indulging in skepticism, however, given your hitherto dour outlook."
He sighs again, shoulders slumping again from where he'd subconsciously drawn himself up tight to face the warrior on the other side of the energy field. "I see what you are attempting, Drift, and I must beg your forgiveness; hate is too precious a commodity, and I have expended too much of it upon myself to spare any for you. You will have to look elsewhere for that, because I cannot give you what you want."
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Post by Drift on Mar 24, 2011 14:44:45 GMT -5
Oh wow, there, Perceptor. You have found one of Drift's Thermonuclear Rage buttons. Congratulations. The only reason he lets you finish your longwinded tirade is that he's trying to calm himself down.
Well, that, and the barrier.
"You both," he says, and it feels like a betrayal to the mech he never met, who paid so highly for this same mistake, "talk too fragging much."
He's literally shaking with rage.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 14:58:46 GMT -5
That does garner a flinch, the simple phrase somehow more hurtful to him than having his very worth questioned. He turns away, retreating back to the corner he had been curled up in when Drift had first arrived, where he stands, facing the wall with his arms at his sides. "Then why have you bothered to remain and listen?" he asks softly.
"I am not the one whom you came to see; he does not exist here. I am merely myself." He doesn't have enough pride left right now to care if Drift sees him break. He ducks his head so that he does not have to see Drift as he turns to put his back against the corner once again, and lets himself slide down the wall until he can wrap both arms around his legs and bury his head against his knees. "I still will not hate you, no matter what you say."
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Post by Drift on Mar 24, 2011 15:33:05 GMT -5
Is Perceptor honestly expecting Drift to have the answer to something that requires self-reflection? The simple answer is that Perceptor's the only mech, thus far, who didn't apparently think Drift was a jerk.
Whoops.
"I am not," he hisses, "a coward." Which is Drift-ese for 'you started it!'
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 15:42:31 GMT -5
That startles Perceptor into looking up, his optics a dim shade of tired cornflower blue as he meets that anger with a momentary expression of exasperation. That is the only thing you heard? Out of all of my rambling, that is what you fixate upon? He sighs; if he can handle Swerve, he can handle Drift.
"Then cease," he growls softly, "hiding behind your excuses! 'Safer alone'? Please. A thinly veiled excuse to wallow in your own self-inflicted misery, more like."
He scowls petulantly. "Continue pushing everyone away if you wish, but if you do so, then be honest with yourself and admit that it is because you are afraid of being hurt again, instead of the excuses you keep telling yourself."
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Post by Drift on Mar 24, 2011 15:56:18 GMT -5
No; Drift heard everything. He's just not...capable of responding to anything else right now.
"If I was so intent on 'hiding'," he snarls. "I would have turned and left by now." In a way, he wants this. It's starting to feed into his not-very-latent masochism. Tell him how awful he is, Perceptor. It's what he wants.
"By safer I meant, no one else gets hurt." He leans forward, optics louring. "Or in my way."
You're proving to him why nobody likes him. It's getting harder and harder to blame 'the Autobots' for this.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 16:06:16 GMT -5
Perceptor smiles bitterly. "And that no one else gets close enough to hurt you, again" he refutes once more.
His knee still aches, but he manages to push himself back up to his feet and stalk over to the field separating them with surprising grace, for once. "Life is loss and pain, Drift. But it is also joy and hope, and without those latter, then what purpose do we suffer the former?"
"Keep pushing, Drift," he adds wryly, leaning in to loom just a little. "You will quickly find that I am too stubborn and too optimistic to give up and not push back."
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Post by Drift on Mar 24, 2011 16:28:17 GMT -5
Drift has a cold shock of realization--why he is here, why he is listening. Because...what if his Perceptor did think this way? What if the mech he rescued did look at him that way, think those things?
Ouch.
"Joy and hope." He says them like they're obscene. "That's for others. Not me. Never was. Never will be." He glares resolutely up at Perceptor. It's not much of a height difference, but enough that Drift feels it's being used against him.
He laughs. "Optimistic? You?" He sure isn't seeing any of it. "And if you 'oush back' any harder, gonna break this barrier."
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 16:45:58 GMT -5
And what if he did, Drift? What if he did look at you and wish that you could feel hope and wonder and joy? Why would that be so terrible?
Frustrated, Perceptor grasps at anything, taking a risk on the unknown. "Would he wish you to punish yourself like this? To keep punishing yourself?" It is a risk; Perceptor only knows that the unknown individual meant something to Drift, and not that those sentiments were returned. He hopes that his gamble does not backfire on him.
That disbelief pulls a wry bark of laughter from him. "Idealistic, then. Just ask anyone. They will be more than happy to tell you all about my 'misguided idealism'." He cannot quite keep the note of bitterness out of his tone. What had it been that Mirage had said? That he cheapens trust by offering it so freely?
Drift would probably agree.
That last merely earns Drift a faint smile. "One can hope, can one not?"
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Post by Drift on Mar 24, 2011 18:01:50 GMT -5
"I've never asked his thoughts on the matter of my punishment," Drift says dryly. His hand strokes the Great Sword, almost for comfort, before he tilts his head, mouth twisting.
"Ideals can get you killed. Especially misguided." Look where it got Wing. Look where it got...Drift. Megatron.
He steps back, wanting distance, physical and otherwise, between them. He forcibly releases air, venting heat. "You want to break me." Really.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 18:24:58 GMT -5
"Then why assume the worst?" Perceptor asks. He notices the way Drift's hand strays to that large sword whenever he seems most uncomfortable, but he says nothing about it. For now. Time enough to unravel more mysteries later.
He shrugs, relaxing, no longer looming. "Perhaps. But I cannot live a life without hope, without dreaming. I need to have something to strive for, Drift. We all do, in our own way. But tell me this? Who gets to determine if my ideals are misguided or not? You? Xaaron? Kup?"
He shakes his head and sighs - he seems to be doing a lot of that today - and lets his gaze drop to the floor for a moment.
"No, not you," he murmurs, looking back up. "Only the ramparts you have erected against those who would call you friend."
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Post by Drift on Mar 24, 2011 18:40:12 GMT -5
"It's called 'reality'." Anything else is weakness, setting you up to be hurt or taken advantage of. Wing trusted him, and...look at what that assumption led to.
Drift's shoulders roll, uncomfortably. This is an issue he has, well, issues with. No one has a right to judge his ideals. "Just...don't be dumb enough to waste them on me."
Those ramparts are the only things holding him together.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 24, 2011 18:50:52 GMT -5
"They are mine to 'waste' as I see fit," Perceptor retorts. "After all, I have been told that 'no one gets left. Not if there is a chance to save them.' I find that a particularly... admirable philosophy."
"As for reality, it is only as bleak as we allow it to be."
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