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Post by Drift on May 19, 2011 16:34:23 GMT -5
Drift would present evidence of...oh, just about every time they've met to counter Perceptor's, uhhh, perception. In retrospect he certainly feels like he's been disagreeable. Truculent. Crabby. Something.
"Opposite of being responsible for 'a great deal' is being responsible for nothing. Means being useless." He tore his gaze from Perceptor's work on his hand. "Better to get something done, even if not all of it works out right."
He's...trying, Perceptor. Maybe you can translate from Idiot.
He grunts. "Don't know. Sometimes...not even sure what I'm doing."
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Post by Perceptor on May 19, 2011 19:35:04 GMT -5
"Actually," he replies, "in this case, it would mean a lack of culpability." But Drift is, indeed, trying, and Perceptor glances back up, attempting to smile. "But I am not intending to, ah, compete with, um... your, ah, count. Autobots, I mean." Because Drift probably still has killed a greater quantity than the number that Perceptor feels that he bears the responsibility of deactivation for, but that is not who Drift is any longer, and isn't really anything to be proud of anyway.
"As you say, though, it is better to do something than nothing, even if our paths are not always clear. For example, I was not created, initially, to be a scientist. My initial function, and form, were, ah... much different."
Drift has been rather open with him; Perceptor feels a need to reciprocate. Besides, he has a point to make. "Field artillery, to be frank. I, ah... have a third mode. Xaaron is aware of it." He flicks an almost embarrassed smile up, before using a clean brush to work the lubricant into the tinier gaps. "I chose a different path. It suits me much more than that of 'tank', I think, although, I wasn't certain what I was doing at first. The path became clearer as time went on."
Clean and lubricated, Drift's hand is ready to get it's protective plating back, and, with a flourish, Perceptor snaps it back on. "There. All fixed." He smiles, still holding Drift's fingers with his other hand. "The most advantageous part of having been designed as a tank, however, is that I am stronger than I appear to be."
ooc: headcanon was apped for an approved by mods.
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Post by Drift on May 20, 2011 20:50:27 GMT -5
Are...you arguing semantics with Drift, Perceptor? Because you did so well explaining gendered pronouns to him, right?
He'll just accept that you won't compete because he so obviously wins. At being a bad person.
...wait.
Oh. Well the tank thing would explain why Perceptor was so damn big. "Artillery isn't for everyone." Normally reserved for the big and the stupid. Like Brawl. Drift tries not to laugh at the image of Perceptor as a tank, roaring into battle. It's...really hard.
He flexes his hand under Perceptor's ministrations to distract both of them. "Did you ever...think you made the wrong decision?" Not that he wanted to go back to the 'cons. But he was just so...spectactularly disastrous as an Autobot, he was beginning to doubt.
He flattens his mouth against more stupid words, as Perceptor snaps the plate back on, really, really glad that the red nerd didn't ask any questions about how it had gotten injured. But that kind of begs the question, which allows him to dodge--he hopes, the Strangely Meaningful thing Perceptor said last. "Wh-why are you carrying my damaged parts to the mess?"
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Post by Perceptor on May 20, 2011 21:30:08 GMT -5
You can laugh. Just imagine Perceptor with a gangster accent, rumbling down the road on his treads. Oh, and painted black.
"The wrong decision when I chose to obtain another alternate mode and initiate my scientific studies?" Perceptor asks. "No. Never. It is, I believe, the function for which I was truly intended." He pauses then, and looks down at their hands. "But I have come to doubt other decisions which I have made. Decisions which... had been fundamental to my philosophy, how I thought I should lead my life. Except that my decisions... caused a great deal of loss of life." His friends. His closest friends.
Perhaps it is Drift who is the one who is in danger between them.
As far as the damage, Perceptor already has an idea how the damage occurred, and he's being nice enough not to say anything. Besides, sharing his suspicions would only frighten Drift off. Drift who is... asking an... awkward question.
"Ah... because, um.... I... was hoping to, ah... see you?" He was. The fact that he has been here in this location for most of the day specifically to run into Drift...
Yeah, Perceptor will keep that to himself. Hopefully. As long as Drift doesn't ask about, um, that.
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Post by Drift on May 20, 2011 21:51:42 GMT -5
This would strike Drift as some sort of bizarre experiment to see if Crystal City rebuilds could snarf energon out their nasals, except that thankfully, Perceptor hadn't said ANY of that out loud.
"I...haven't really changed my function." Just gone from shooting to stabbing, but still both within the set of 'killing'. "Maybe that's what my problem is." He shrugs. Not really much he can see himself doing, though. Just...killing. He hunches lower, feeling more than a bit inferior. Perceptor could competently do two jobs--he could do one.
"But this...'philosophy'--where'd you get it from?" He got his from Crystal City and, yeah, still not really comfortable with it. Just...saving lives. And killing to save lives. Just...different lives from the ones he was saving. But the same he had not been killing before.
...was Perceptor's that complicated?
"....oh." Drift takes a nervous gulp of his energon with his good hand. "I...thanks?"
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Post by Perceptor on May 20, 2011 22:39:47 GMT -5
That... would be quite a sight to see. And probably quite painful for the participants.
"You have not?" Perceptor asks. "Then you have always made it your task to babysit less combatively inclined scientists?" Perceptor offers Drift a small smile and reaches to wrap both hands around the one of Drift's that he had just repaired, using the excuse of inspecting the fit of the repaired plate. "What would you rather do than be a warrior? I shifted my function because I was not only truly ill-suited to my original design, but also that I preferred the sciences. So, what is it that you would truly prefer, if not that of being a warrior?"
He finishes his inspection, but does not release Drift's hand; he will do so if Drift asks or makes a motion that indicates that he wants his hand back. Until then... Perceptor will bask in the moment.
"My philosophy... I... I am not certain if I am able to point out a single origin for my philosophy. It is... merely what I have decided for myself, I suppose. Except... I am not certain about what I believe any longer. It... seems so... simple. And yet, it... I just do not know any longer."
Complicated? Everything about Perceptor is complicated.
"It was, um, my pleasure." Really and truly. He should be honest. This talk of philosophy and guiding life principles... he really should be honest. "I, um... Actually, I waited here. For you." He's not meeting Drift's gaze any longer, and that last is said very, very quietly.
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Post by Drift on May 21, 2011 10:24:46 GMT -5
OH come on. Who here wouldn't like to see Drift in pain?
Oh good, Drift hasn't had a chance to angst about this recently. Thanks for the reminder, Perceptor. "Haven't done a great job of doing that, have I?" If he'd done it right, Oil Slick would never have hit Perceptor with that...whatever it was. "And I gave up asking myself what I wanted to be, because, the only answer I had back on Cybertron was...'alive'."
He's distracted, so he lets his hand rest in Perceptor's, trying to shake off the memories of the gutters. They didn't have many options: steal to live, or die. Neither very promising.
"Oh." He didn't even know why he felt disappointed. He just...wanted someone to have all the answers. Any of the answers. Wing had seemed...so damn sure of everything. And he wanted that, wanted to believe that someone had that, that it was possible for that kind of clarity of purpose to exist...aboveground.
And all that moral struggle, and all that angst Perceptor just went through? Whistles right over Drift's head. "Why?" Tact? Subtlety? Understanding? In YOUR Drift?
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Post by Perceptor on May 21, 2011 15:28:47 GMT -5
Perceptor totally does not want to see Drift in pain. That's rather part of the reason he's been clumsily stalking waiting here for Drift.
"I beg to differ," Perceptor refutes. "You were there to prevent Oil Slick from deactivating Sentinel or causing me irreparable harm. You watched over me while I was being held in the brig. You checked on my well-being despite having no real need to do so, even after I had caused you discomfort. Not many, um, care to expend that effort."
Perceptor tilts his head as he considers what else Drift has said. "Perhaps now it is time to think about that again, then?" he offers. "Here, while we may not live in the level of luxury that some are accustomed to, we survive. Everyone has fuel, shelter, functions. More importantly, everyone has the opportunity for leisure. Now is the time to explore, to determine what you wish to do, what hobbies or different paths you wish to pursue. You deserve that opportunity just as much as anyone else, Drift. I believe such. And, I would be honored to assist you in any way that you require."
He's let Drift down, somehow, though, and he doesn't know how. Probably because Perceptor has become so unsure about so many things. Drift has his own problems; holding Perceptor's hand while the scientist muddles through his own issues must feel terribly tedious. He'll... figure things out and not be a burden. He won't let himself be a burden.
He hopes.
"Um, because." That's terribly explanatory. "I, uh, rather thought that, um... would be obvious. Or, ah, that I had, um.... made my... my thoughts obvious. In my laboratory. When, um..." You remember. When you ran away from him, Drift?
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Post by Drift on May 23, 2011 10:11:43 GMT -5
Well. Uh. If you put it that way...?
"You're the only one that puts up with me." It's stark, blunt...the truth. He tries not to read too much into it on his side. He doesn't need anyone. Anyone he gets near has a way of dying: Gasket, Wing. He shouldn't have let himself get this close to Perceptor even, especially since he failed at protecting him.
Drift shrugs. "Probably not suited for anything else at this point. Too long doing one thing." He looks up. "Unlike you, never felt any sort of call to do something else." All he really wants is to do that, and do it right and win the war. Save lives instead of...destroying everything he comes in contact with.
Like...Perceptor.
Perceptor who is somehow...apparently glitching. Breaking him already, are you, Drift? Normally the nerd was a little too ready with those labyrinthine sentences. Not now, huh? Smooth move Drift. He tugs his hand away, as if the contact were causing the problem: touch it, it breaks. Thank Primus you have fraggin' swords, Drift. Kind of hard for a slab of metal to malfunction, at least.
Oh. It hits him. That. "Told you. I'll break you. It just...happens. And...shouldn't happen to you. That's all." It's a sad state of affairs when Drift's telegraphic style is more coherent than Perceptor!
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Post by Perceptor on May 23, 2011 16:05:23 GMT -5
Perceptor tilts his head, quiet as he considers Drift's words and laments the loss of Drift's hand with a thin frown. "If that is true, then I feel that it is their loss," he replies. "You, ah, do, however, make it... hmmm... difficult for others to attempt to attain any level of closeness with you." Perceptor can be blunt, too. Sometimes.
"I will not pretend to understand why you have come to feel that as necessary, Drift. I cannot imagine life as a Decepticon in my own reality, much less anyone else's, particularly since it has become clear to me that my reality is... not as harsh, not as dark, as most others. I will also not insult you by making any attempt to downplay your past losses," he explains, his tone softening as he plows onward before Drift can stop him. "But... I am myself. I am not those you have lost before. Insofar as you feel that mere association with you is a risk, it is my risk to assume."
"Also, I am stubborn, and not as easily broken as you believe. I have been Megatron's prisoner and plague carrier before, and yet, I still function. I have faced Unicron and survived. I do not fear you, nor the burden you carry, Drift. I would share it, if you would allow me. Even if as nothing more than as a friend." He lays his hand back upon the table, palm up, open, offering. Waiting, but not demanding. "Do not push us all away. Please?"
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Post by Drift on May 24, 2011 20:54:07 GMT -5
Drift squirms at Perceptor's words. It's...way too much. "Not...worth getting to know." Truth is, he's ashamed of his life. Gutter crawler, killer. Nothing and everything in there. Volumes of mistrust and violence. An ugly world he doesn't even want to remember, much less inflict on someone else.
"I...uh...," his hands ball into fists--not fists, but some symbol of strength, which he feels he is so desperately lacking. "I...really don't want to hurt you. . " Maybe Perceptor doesn't realize how rare a sentiment, much less an admission that is from him. He wants to stab everything.
He stares at the hands open on the table. He reaches out with one hand, hovering over the open palm, trying, but not quite daring, to make contact.
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Post by Perceptor on May 24, 2011 23:08:14 GMT -5
Perceptor favors Drift with a wan smile, though he keeps his hand steady, resisting the temptation to close the remaining distance between their hands. It must be Drift's choice; Perceptor will not strip that from him.
"Then it is my time to waste, though I doubt very much that a waste it would be," he replies gently. "You have mentioned in passing that your origins were somewhat humble, Drift, but you drive yourself relentlessly. It is that very relentlessness that tells me that the circumstances of your origins were not due to laziness, not due to apathy, but circumstances. Circumstances which you drive yourself to eliminate, to bring about the end of so that no one else is ever forced to suffer as you had."
He tilts his head, his gaze fixed to Drift's face as he observes, "I see nothing in that for you to be ashamed of. In fact, I find it quite admirable."
The wan smile returns, and Perceptor dares to curl upwards a single finger, letting the tip of his index finger just barely stroke over Drift's palm for a moment; just a flicker of contact, fleeting, before he restrains himself again. He worries his lower lip, understanding a little just what such an admission must cost the swordsmech, but... not really knowing how to really address it. He does not wish to frighten Drift off again, but those quiet words warm something deep in Perceptor's core, and he wants to acknowledge the admission somehow...
"I am really not, ah, very adept at this sort of thing," he admits, letting his gaze drop to that thin distance between their hands. "People. Words. I... use so many of them, sometimes, and then, when they are most important, I do not know which ones to use."
He looks back up, something a little, almost fragile in his expression, as he offers, "I am not overfond of being hurt, no. But I trust you, Drift. I believe in you, and I wish to take this opportunity which you continue to claim as a risk." His hand waits patiently, determined to allow Drift that decision for himself, to not take that away from him.
No matter what.
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Post by Drift on May 25, 2011 21:04:31 GMT -5
Drift...isn't used to hearing his history interpreted that way. It was true: he wanted no one to have to endure the life he'd had. No one should have to see their dearest friend shot. No one should have to steal...just to survive. No one should be so desperate for any glimmer of hope that they clutch with both hands onto...anything that reaches into their gutter.
"Not...that admirable," he murmurs. It might sound good, but he knew the reality. The death, the pain, the suffering. Admirable? No.
But...Perceptor saw this. And more, believed it. And...Drift wanted to believe it, too.
His palm twitches at the light contact, almost as if that one fingertip scalds him.
But...Perceptor doesn't understand. Drift would...hate himself if he hurt the red mech. "Perceptor. I...the...last one I let get close." Wing. His optics blinked. "Just...just don't die for me." It sounded stupid. It probably was stupid. But he couldn't. Not again. The image of Perceptor--the one he knew, the one he remembered, splayed out, oozing out along the decking of Turmoil's ship, flashed over his cortex, but it wasn't that Perceptor, but this one, shocked and half blinded and....
His hand clutches at the palm on the table below him, his swordsmech's hand squeezing the hand, probably too strongly. A selfish gesture to make sure this one was here, real, alive.
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Post by Perceptor on May 25, 2011 21:52:06 GMT -5
Perceptor merely adopts that wan smile again at Drift's refutation. It's so hard for Drift to accept any praise at all. Even the praise he does accept - for his combative prowess - he spins into a negative light: the death of those at his hands. It makes Perceptor's core ache to realize that.
But then Drift's hand is upon his own, wrapped around it tight, squeezing to the point of pain, though with the extra sensors his hands possess, his threshold is lower there than most. Even so, he does not care about the pain, because the lightness within easily overwhelms that base, physical sensation, and he turns a content, almost radiant, smile upon Drift.
"I cannot promise that I will never die, Drift," he replies gently. Except that no one dies in Perceptor's reality, unless it is important to the plot, so in this, they are actually safer than they know. He lifts his other hand to rest upon Drift's encasing his in soothing warmth. "But I have far too much to live for to put myself at unnecessary risk. And before you call yourself 'an unnecessary risk'," he adds, quirking a wry grin, "I offer only this: how much easier will it be to watch over me, which you have already admitted to having a habit of doing, if we are seeking one another out, rather than avoiding each other?"
He gives Drift's hand a soft squeeze, and murmurs, "I am stronger than I seem, Drift. Trust me as I trust you." It's the closest he can come to saying that he won't die on Drift.
And now to move the conversation on to something a little less stressful for Drift. Well, actually, probably just as stressful, only different.
"I, ah, saw a notation that Long Haul put in your medical file. About your sword? Would you be willing to tell me about it?"
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Post by Drift on May 26, 2011 14:20:09 GMT -5
You must be smart, Perceptor, because you've already figured out that Drift is going to stick to you like a cyberflea the second he hears combat. Prepare to be an epicenter of mighty stabbings.
"Better listen to me next time," he mutters, but he keeps his hand in Perceptor's, loosening the grip from 'crushing death' to 'maybe you can feel something through this.'
Trust. Right. Like that was so easy. Drift hadn't trusted anyone. Not even Wing. Not until it was...too late. "If you die on me I will fraggin' kill you."
....
Shut up, Drift.
He seizes onto the change of topic until he realizes what it is. The implied stalking doesn't bother him, but, you know, does everyone have to know about the spark sucking sword? "Nothing to tell. Sword. Can kill me when I use it."
A pause.
"And yes I'm holding it the right way." Grrrr.
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