exsiliumlogs | elephant [OPEN]

Entry tags:

elephant [OPEN]

Date & Time: Feb 6th, all day.
Location: Around the outskirts of the city.
Characters: Drift and YOU!
Summary: Finally bored with hiding, Drift takes a walkabout. Which means robot parkour!
Warnings: None, will update if needed.
Note: You can enter in from the given prose or write a setup and I can adjust/write into it. You can also post in your preferred format and I'll match!

Boredom and anxiety drive him out of the abandoned building he's made his temporary home for the time being. He hasn't felt comfortable going to his designated housing. Unsure if he'd fit or even be very well-received. At least he's starting to settle with the fact that most humans here aren't out to trap or kill him.

That's a new and exciting concept. Fortunately, it appears nobody has really seen a Cybertronian, save for that one fellow, who didn't much seem to care.

So he ventures out, unfolding from his vehicle mode to dart down the empty streets and look for anything useful. The information he'd been given... he isn't sure if he can trust it at all now. It doesn't bode well, either way. He's been thrown into this mess, and the talk of war.

War.

He'd not adjusted well. About as well as Rodimus or Atomizer or Whirl (Primus, Whirl...) to not having 'kill Decepticons' as the primary M.O. anymore.

He's not sure if he's relieved or depressed that he's back in the apparent thick of it again. But it's what he's good at. Killing. As much as the "Flaky Spiritualist" act sustained him on the Lost Light, he knows deep down it is just that. An act, even if he played the part so well that even he started believing it.

Drift vaults himself up onto a sturdy looking building, using it to reach a crumbling ledge of something taller. He climbs, scaling until he reaches some of the upper-rooftops.

"What am I going to do?" He asks the sword on his back, which maintains it's silence, as always.

"Am I here for a reason?"

Perhaps.

Or maybe it's just happenstance, just like Ratchet would tell him. But he pretends to have a purpose, and moves on.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She makes to solemnly shake his hand again. "Friends it is!" Laughing at his other proclamation, she winks. "I'm standing in for the sun until we get it back online full time. So tell me about yourself! Friends do a lot of that. Talking and all. I can help with the talking about this place, if you've got more questions, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious to hear more about you, and where you're from."

"Friends," Drift echoes, a little fondly. It's odd when anyone calls him that so openly.

"Well, you're certainly doing a fine job of it!" He scoots over to lean back against the door structure of the roof, producing a bright, pink glowing cube, or rather, a cube filled with bright pink glowing liquid, and a glass from seemingly nowhere. (Subspace).

"Well, my story isn't a pretty one, and neither is the story of my planet or my species, but if you'd like to know, I'll tell you." He pours some of that glowing liquid into the cup, rationing it out carefully.

"I'd also like to know about you, too."

There's a pause as he places the cube back into his subspace and shrugs.

"I'd offer you some of this but it would kill a human."

"What is that?" Watching the whole appearance of a glowing pink cube that Drift was now preparing to drink from has all her curiosity focused in tight.

Curiouser and curiouser.

"I'd like to know." She looks up to his face, away from the fascinating liquid for the moment. "I think I can handle that kind of sharing in return. Would I have to explain Earth too?"

"Energon," Drift says, plainly, as if it's totally normal. Only after a brief interval of silence does he elaborate, "It's what my species uses for fuel. Our lifeblood."

He lifts the glass in a little 'cheers' motion before drinking it.

"Well, no. I mean, maybe. I've been to Earth but it wasn't on leisure and I didn't get out much. So anything you deem as pertinent, would be helpful to know."

The swordsmech shifts, unclipping the giant great sword from his back and setting it aside so he can get more comfortable.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Maybe with why you came to Earth? Then we can backtrack from there, or go forward, or ago any direction that makes sense. You weren't here to conquer anything, were you?" Tone kept light and teasing, Collette's not entirely kidding.

For one planet among gazillions, it's surprising the amount of interest Earth pulls in on itself!

"I'll fill in what I can about Earth. Mine and this one, they're a little bit different." She pauses, then amends her statement. "Okay, maybe a lot different, at least past the 1980's, but that's way over a thousand years in the past now. Is there enough of that energon stuff for you in the long run? Maybe the Initiative has stores..."

"Ah yes. Yes and no. You see, the reason why I was on Earth was because of the war. My species has been locked in civil war for millions of years. It destroyed our home world and spread to other planets, destroying those as well." His mouth draws into a tight line.

"The opposing side came to Earth to conquer and destroy. We chased them to fight them there. It didn't go well. Despite us trying to help, the humans were not... exactly trusting of us, regardless of internal politics. For good reason."

The Decepticons almost won.

"Hmm," Drift strokes his chin, "Time travel." Odd as it is, he doesn't seem surprised.

"Oh, uh. To be honest I'm not sure. If I don't have it, I'll eventually shut down and die. There are ways to synthesize it, but not in large amounts, and I'm no scientist, I'm just a soldier."

A beat passes.

"Was, a solder. Was."

Collette listens to a story similar in parts to one she's lived through at the tail end of a fight borne by Jake and the rest for years. "Gotta admit, we don't always do so well with aliens. We're pretty sure we know all there is, so it takes us a little." Or a lot of time in order to break past the preconceptions.

She doesn't have much of a problem with this; hers comes in being too ready and willing to trust and believe.

"We'll see if someone can synthesize it. Even if we're not the scientists," she adds, "Soldiers can soldier right into the right answers some of the time."

She doesn't choose to point out he's been drafted as a soldier again. She's more curious at the past tense. "Is it that easy to leave it behind? Being a soldier."

"Yeah... that tends to be the way with most species though." They're more often than not, very stubborn.

"Heh," She's very full of wordplay, but it's not unpleasant, "I suppose, sometimes they can."

Not always, but sometimes.

"What? Oh, uh. No, not really. I've been at it for four-million years, give or take. Our war just recently ended and... well. It certainly doesn't leave easily. I don't exactly have any other skills than..."

He taps one of the scabbards mounted on his hips.

"But I'm learning." Slowly. Very slowly.

"Four million years?!" Her ability to believe at first hearing means she takes him at his word, but her mind still boggles under the comprehension of that amount of time being devoted to any one subject. "Geez! Drift, that's totally crazy!"

On the other hand, having an end to a four million year long war was probably an achievement worth writing home about. "Did you guys have the biggest celebration ever with it ending? No wonder it'd be hard. Though if you're a good soldier, and you've got to be, there's all sorts of things you do well! Like pay attention, or guard things, or probably infiltrate, though you're kind of big for that around here." She tapped her chin. "Are you any good at building?"

He winces a little. Yeah, their species was defined by the war. Defined by destruction and killing each other. Not the greatest reputation.

"Uhm. Not... not exactly. Most of us were driven away by the neutrals when the war ended."

Drift takes another sip of his energon.

"Uh. I can do those things. I also write a little bit. I mean nothing major but..." Shrug.

"Building? Uh. Not. Really. I mean I couldn't design something worth a damn, but I guess in the barest sense of manual labor, sure. I could do that."

Collette shrugs, as if to dismiss her own question on building. She has no idea of what he can do, so it seemed logical to start tossing options out into the air.

What she latches onto is his confession on writing. "What do you write about?" she asks, ignoring how it being nothing major made it almost sound dismissive. The rest, with most aliens being driven away, that she can understand in a sort of graceless way that expects people are more comfortable when assuming they can keep the bad parts of reality far away just by pushing out the obvious reminders from their daily lives.

It doesn't work quite like that, but the illusion is nice.

"Oh just uhm," Drift rubs his neck, a little embarrassed, "Just speeches. For my captain. I wrote his speeches... and uh. Sometimes haiku, but they're never that good."

He's not really the creative type.

At least he seems comfortable enough to say anything. He's never really met someone who was so interested in him. Outside of Wing and Perceptor and maybe Rodimus himself. It's unusual but not unpleasant.

"Speeches take skill," she says, smiling. "Half-way decent ones around here would be pretty useful, if you ask me!" Isn't speech writing some sort of profession where she's from? Collette isn't sure, but it sounded just weird enough to be true.

"And one way or another, now you get some time to figure out the things you are good at that doesn't rely on the swords. Or you could take up being a lumberjack."

Possibilities seemed relatively endless! "Is there anything you always wanted to try doing?"

"I suppose. I'd have to learn more about this place to really be able to. To write anything useful." He mostly wrote up-beat speeches to help mask the mistakes that were made aboard their ship. Not that he saw it that way, Rodimus respected him, even if he made mistakes, Drift blindly followed him because there he found acceptance.

And here, it's strange to have it so readily.

The comment about being a lumberjack makes him laugh, his frame shaking a little.

"I suppose! I know someone who would find that very funny." Axe, namely. Aptly named.

"I guess if you get me an axe big enough." He wouldn't use his swords for that kind of thing.

"Uh. Jeez, I don't know. I'd have to think about it."

"We might be able to get someone to build one," she says, speculating. There're all sorts of people with different skills around here. If one guy could build her a wheelchair, couldn't there be smiths or something?

Still, that's something to think about later, if Drift does decide on the path of the lumberjack. "Now's the right chance for that," she points out, smiling. "I mean, there's stuff going on, but you still have time on your hands to figure out to fill on your own. It's not like we even have school around here, or jobs unless you take it up with the Exiles. Or start your own thing," she added.

"Oh, I wouldn't trouble someone like that, it seems it would be kind of an undertaking. Is there really a big demand for wood here?" The thought just dawns on him. Is that even a thing?

"Well," Drift says, resting his chin in his hands and sighing through his vents.

"I know one thing. I want to help people. Someone once told me that helping someone else is the highest calling one can aspire to."

The previous owner of that sword he carries on his back, in fact. But he keeps that to himself.

"Which reminds me... how did you even get up here? That door is locked, isn't it?"

"Helping people, huh? I can get behind that one." It's one of the strongest things that draws her to other people, that quality in wanting to help when there was no obligation to do so. Even when there was an obligation, it didn't invalidate the drive. "If that's what you know, then there's all sorts of ways you can help people out. Though we might need to work on your PR."

She smiles, not meaning for it to be rude, but unaware of how it might sound. "Transports pretty much are used to anything, but the Exiles still don't know much about us, or about the Initiative. I don't think they want to. So when we make something easier for them... it goes better all around. No pushing people into uncomfortable new realms of thinking," she adds with a roll of her eyes. "Even if I think people should flexible enough to accept new things into their life, people are kinda reluctant."

His inquiring after her own appearance on the roof leaves her laughing. "Oh yeah, I bet it is! I didn't check, to be honest. I flew up here an hour or so ago."

"My PR... oh well, that shouldn't be too hard." Not that he's really a P kind of guy to begin with. Not good with other mechs much less human beings.

But everyone starts somewhere.

"So... so I just have to do a few favors then? Shouldn't be too hard..."

His musing is instantly cut off at her next reply.

"Flew?" He's suddenly very close, leaning down to squint his optics and look her over very closely.

"Last I checked, humans didn't have wings or thrusters. Where are you keeping them, then?"

It's startling to have him come so close, particularly when he's big -- regardless of how much bigger some of his species may or may not be. They're not here, and she's reminded more of Simmaeri as a giant dinosaur than anything else as she straightens up, involuntarily looking over her shoulder.

Of course there are no wings there, but humans didn't have wings where she was from either. Let alone these thrusters he spoke about!

"In a whole different form," she says, looking back to his face. What functions as his eyes are different enough to be unsettling to look into, though she shrugs it off mentally. "I flew up here as a pigeon. I can morph into animals," she continued, like this was an explanation in and of itself.

He leans back when she answers, optics wide with fascination.

"Wow, really?! You can do that? You have an alt-mode... an animal alt-mode? Like the Predacons..." So maybe not exactly on the same page but. Close enough.

"Can you show me?"

"Alt-mode is what you'd call it?" A curious phrasing, though she nods readily enough. "I can, though I'm not sure you should watch the process. It's really gross! Really gross," she repeats, reiterating the point.

"Yeah, my species has those too."

He leans in. Gross.

"How gross are we talking about? I really want to see it, if it's not really invasive of me, that is."

"Apparently you're going to learn first hand how gross gross really is! Though that was my last warning, if you watch this whole thing, that's all on you."

Collette gave no further indication of her intentions, forming the image of the pigeon in her mind. The changes were immediate. Her eyes started to shift around on her face, her nose lengthening as feathers formed like so many hundreds and thousands of blackheads bursting in tandem from under her clothing, then through it, leotard and tanktop lost under the wave of feathers.

She began to shrink rapidly, arms pulling back and popping with an unheard sound as they were pulled into proper form for a win, flesh extending off the length of her arm and connecting to her body. Contortions marked as her legs shortened, limbs she'd never moved since his arrival growing scaly and yellowish , talons extending from toes that were pulling together, another traveling back with the same distorted, jarring motion as the rest of her.

It takes all of a minute for there to be a perfectly recognizable pigeon sitting on the roof where before there'd been a human girl. She's not sure if her Thought Speak will work with him, but attempts nonetheless to communicate.

< How's that for a party trick? >

She flaps her wings, head tilting to the side so one eye can focus on the immense bulk of Drift right in front of her.

The noise that comes out of Drift as he abruptly stands, taken aback by the downright strange transformation can only be described as a squeak.

"I-I've never seen an organic be able to do that! And I've seen some things!"

Once he appears to get over the initial shock he gets down on all fours to squint at her now that she's very tiny. How she managed to communicate he's not certain, but he definitely understood her.

"You became a tiny little bird..." As if it wasn't obvious. He makes as though he perhaps wants to poke her with one finger but thinks better of it.

Now she's even more tiny and fragile.

< A pigeon, to be exact! >

Collette pulled her head back in close to her chest as he reached out, involuntarily retreating out of awareness of just how tiny she was in comparison. This was closer to how she'd felt with Simmaeri!

< We call this morphing where I'm from. Pretty amazing, huh? >

She spread her wings, striking a pose.

Edited (sentences how do you work) 2013-02-12 14:36 (UTC)

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