Drift (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
weapabilities) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-02-06 05:35 pm
weapabilities) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-02-06 05:35 pm
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.
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.
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