2018-05-18 If I knew the way I would take you home
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|If I knew the way I would take you home|
|Location||Cybertron - New Iacon|
|Summary||Dont drop the sad drunk spacer.|
News moves fast. Especially now. Unicron-- or Cybertron? Fills the horizon as it //merges// peacefully with the planet below. The litter of lights and pieces of metal moving in a steady shuffle is an almost mesmerizing sight as the two planetoids break apart piece by piece, reattaching at new seams along mountains and plains. New Iacon has a near view, perched where the towers can see the local star illuminating the fusion.
"So they... really were twins..." Skystalker sits at one of the higher points of the city, on a spire which he knows attaches near to Metroplex's core. He can't be on the Lost Light right now. An old, old guardian was his second. Somehow he has escaped the pressure of being around anyone at all--even his amicas, for the time being-- the celebrations below fill the streets with a warm murmur of sound, and instead he rests hidden on a ledge like a folded bird, knees drawn close. His helm rests against the wall beside him, the metal underneath holding the soothing, almost primal vibration of a giant life. "Brothers, huh?"
Skystalker presses his forehead a little more into Metroplex's wall. Though he has a couple of empty bottles beside him, there is not a third.
Waspinator is a stark contrast to the mourning that has consumed much of the Lost Light. While many mourn the loss of their former captain, of their friends and crewmates, the decepticon bug parties alongside excited colonists and citizens of Metroplex. They did it, they survived the apocalypse! Most of his plating may be sheared from worm bites and one of the insect's wings near busted but why shouldn't they be celebrating!?
Jostled between two Kheprians, Waspinator finds his cheer faltering as his optics fix on something above. Is that...? Joy gives way to concern the longer he watches the hunched form of a familiar shiny neutral. Even this far away its obvious something is wrong with the mech. The bug might no longer trust Skystalker on the level he once did, but seeing him like this... Waspinator is paranoid not a monster.
Leaving his new friends without so much as a word- to their confused protests- Waspinator flies up with difficulty to where Skystalker is sat. He hangs off the side of the spire, peering over the edge as he stares at the folded mech in silence. The seconds seem to drag by as he slowly takes in the mech's wilted form and bottles.
Wilted like a dried up, pressed flower, color faded. Skystalker's frame has damage to it, and patches, fixes-- but nothing that nobody else has gotten too. His cheek presses to metal in a prolonged lean. He can't speak titan, but being here-- he hopes Metroplex hears him anyway. He already knows the titan remembered his charges well enough to welcome them back.
Skystalker hears the buzzing of wings before anything else, the sound uneven thanks to Wasp's injuries. He tries to shrink from the sound, eyes still on his knees. Maybe he is scared to look up and see who it is. Eventually he does, twisting in his seat to look. Optics dim and filtered with extra light, the ones along his frame mirroring them.
Waspinator's optics stare intently over the edge of the spire, not a wire or strut so much as twitching until Skystalker eventually moves. Even then its a beat before the bug shifts his weight, lifting himself just enough to plop his chin hesitantly on the flat surface. This close its easy to see the damage they both have suffered, the evidence of what was likely many near disasters. Softly, warily, he asks, "Izz.... izz Zzkyzztalker... ok?" It can't be alright, but Waspinator asks anyways. Obviously he is not alright but its the only thing he can think of doing as he watches the miserable spacer.
Skystalker watches the buggy bot in silence, taking in the tentative peek with a stifled feeling of curiosity. It passes when he speaks, the question making Sky turn his face away again, knitted up tight like a cat and voice slow.
"No..." Sky hears his name but he hurts too much at the moment to be glad that it slipped out. Later on, maybe. "Not really." The intimate shifting of the land beyond the city catches one more glance. "Don't get me wrong... I'm... happy that we won."
"Then..." Waspiantor pulls himself more onto the ledge, draping arms over the top to better rest his helm- lower helf left dangling over the edge. Everything about Skystalker is wrong, he's not supposed to be sad. He's not supposed to be all by himself up here... he's not supposed to be drinking that's something Wasp is supposed to do! "... Why doezz Zzkyzztalker not look it?" He glances out to the landscape as well, blankly staring at the shifting distance with far more detachment.
The noise of the far combining is a pitchy one, now and again, signals pinging between the surfaces. Skystalker watches flatly as Wasp wriggles further onto the ledge and rests there. The new question has Sky's features bending to keep himself from keening.
"We still lose. Or maybe I'm just... not like all of you. I'm not used to this. Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't hurt as much if I had just... stayed a slave." The starfighter buries his helm against his knees, armor quivering. It is lonely up here for a reason. He couldn't even be near Quicksight.
Waspinator keeps an optic on Skystalker, though his gaze remains fixed to the distance. What is he supposed to do? Anything he does would just make it worse! The mention of slavery has the insect's antenna perking with a sharp jolt, digits scratching with a loud screech across the plating of his arm in a spark of aggression, "Zzhouldn't zzay that. Izz an awful thing to zzay... and Zzkyzztalker not want to be like Wazzpinator. Wazzpinator izz awful mech."
"You're not." It is a quiet, but firm counter to the other mech. Skystalker keeps his face down, however, frame murmuring with the sound of distress on his systems.
"Having nothing and no-one meant that I didn't lose anything." Sky lifts his head this time, hand rubbing at the planes of his face, optics squeezed shut. "I don't know which is better anymore." His nose scrunches slightly, and he bats one of the empty metal bottles from the ledge. It sails into the air in a lazy arc, free falling to somewhere else.
Waspinator tracks the bottle's flight through the air, helm swiveling as it goes streaking past and down far below. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he can't help a flash of amusement at the thought that maybe it will hit someone that is not him for once. "Not being alone izz better." Waspinator responds, voice filled with absolute surety of his answer. "Wazzpinator wazz alone a long time... trapped in the bad place... and Wazzpinator zztill hurt now but hazz a few friends... izz better than being alone all the time." Sure, he still prefers being alone most of the time but having them when he wants them... that's probably one of the few things that kept him from flat out running when Unicron reared his helm.
Skystalker watches the bottle's descent, chin wavering as he listens to Waspinator. His vents spin and warm, held cycling pressing hot at his sides. The other bottle does not get slapped into the abyss, thankfully. The lashing out is already over. He doesn't have the energy.
"I know... I--" Better than being alone. Wasp's right. Skystalker's optics flicker in their crescents, light and heat daubing visibly down against his face. "It feels like there's a hole, there was hardly-- anyofusleftand//now//--" His hands quake and his voice cracks weakly, palms moving to his armor where there seems a hollow instead of his spark.
The residual warmth of the spire is reassuring, barely. Metroplex is as close to Nyon as he could get. Rodimus, Lieutenant, Pipes, Wheeljack-- their faces pound in his head.
Waspinator can spot the moment Skystalker truly begins breaking down, the pain of those that have been lost crushing him beneath its weight. There is only one solution Waspinator knows of that might help. Its not a healthy one, nor is it likely to affect anything in the long run, but its the only thing he's got right now. Hefting himself up fully onto the ledge, one leg hanging of the side to make more space, Waspinator digs around in his subspace. After a minute he holds out an arm to Skystalker.
The offered bottle of engex sits innocently in Waspinator's hand as he waits for the other mech to make a move. Its a surprisingly classy drink, high in both engex quantity and quality. Turns out there are some advantages to making new friends of bug shaped colonists.
"Helpzz Wazzpinator." He softly explains, optics dimming as he looks back down towards the happy streets below, "Helpzz Wazzpinator forget."
There is hesitation as Wasp climbs the rest of the way up, Sky's frame getting a bit smaller in the other mech's shadow as if he could wish himself tinier. He stays the same size, of course. The honey glow and drip of his optics lifts with a flicker of light to the offered bottle, then Wasp's face. He knows it isn't a healthy mechanism, but--
Maybe right now is the only time for it. Skystalker vents shakily, putting his hand out to take the engex offered to him.
Waspinator doesn't comment on how Sky almost seem to shy away from him but doesn't move to be any closer, just remains half sat on the ledge with arm outstretched.The longer he lingers on the fact that he is handing Skystalker engex to get blatently drunk... it feels wrong but what else can he do? The bottle is gently placed in the awaiting hand and Waspinator turns back to looking over the city- no sign he's planning on leaving anytime soon.
Skystalker pulls the bottle closer to himself when it's clear that Wasp has made up his mind. He does not waste time, though he doesn't he dump it in his intake either. Methodical hands undo the stopper, and Sky holds it to his sensors to get a whiff. Smells like Kheprian, for sure. While he had just mouthed the other bottles, this time the spacer makes the effort to be sparing with it, lifting it to his lips and tasting a mouthful of it.
Deeming it satisfactory, Sky takes the cap, fills the small volume of it, and tips it out to the sky and horizon.
Someone may get rained on, but that's life. The symbolism counts.
A for Effort.
"Nn?" A sound precedes Skystalker offering the bottle for Wasp to take a drink too. Or is this his now?
Waspinator watches as Skystalker pours one out for the dead, a bit of a waste in his opinion but who is he to judge another's sad drinking habits. Those poor saps down on the street... HA.
Waspinator shockingly turns down the bottle when it is offered back his way, giving a small wave of denial, "Wazzpinator izz ok." Right now.... Skystalker needs it more than he does.
Skystalker does not argue or offer twice, or even insist, which would be typical. Instead he just tugs it back and takes a second sip, legs unfurling and hanging from the ledge sill of the tower. The reflection of sun in his gaze makes them less dim as he watches the pieces of the World Eater descend without hostility. Like stars floating down to land, in a way.
"...Thank you." Skystalker's vents hitch once more, voice soft.
Waspinator shifts so Skystalker can join him at the edge, knee bumping against his own chassis as he makes room. He's likely not going back to the party tonight, that much became obvious when he found Skystalker. He isn't upset about that fact right now, though. Right now he just wants to make his tentative friend stop being so upset, an upset Skystalker seems enough to make the world go grey- an ironic sentiment coming from someone who has made the spacer upset in the past.
Waspiantor joins him in watching the raining glow of Unicron merge with the planet below them, seeming more like fading embers in his own optics.
One of Waspinator's hands raises to give a short pet to Skystalker's helm without thinking, ghosting across his plating and leaving as fast as it came. "Izz ok." Is his response, just as quiet as Skystalker's.
Even if short, the touch to his helm brings with it the reminder that he really isn't alone. Especially up here. But the feelings, raw as they are, make sure that Skystalker remains where he is. A knot sits hard and hollow in his chest, the taste and chill of the drink in his throat cloaking it little by little. After a time of watching the merge, the slender mech's voice picks up, optics far away.
"If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine... And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung..." The song shakes at first, easing into something that seems to calm Skystalker as he lets the drink settle in his frame. "Would you hear my voice come through the music... Would you hold it near as it were your own..."
Waspinator sits in silence as Skystalker drinks, standing vigil as the other washes his worries away on a tide of engex. He won't leave him alone for the rest of the night, both to keep him company and make sure he doesn't drink himself into a hole somewhere. He doesn't understand why he begins to sing either, but after awhile... finds himself near silently humming along as best he can.