ximilialog | CLOSED | after the Murder on the Disoriented Express

[ In their quarters, Drift shifted to his alt mode to maintenance himself and the weapons he had brought back. Cleaning the blade of the sword Joe had tossed him before the train cars separated, Drift was lost in the task at hand that he was only dimly aware of Mal trudging in. Mal wasn't exactly quiet, walking through with the heavy footfalls of a stride used to long marches.

Drift heard the sounds of Mal settling in and said nothing. Few words had passed between himself and Mal after the mission, but an appreciation for silence had been mutual. No one could have asked for a better roommate arrangement. Neither he nor Mal was chatty — when they were sober, anyway, and both soldiers had their routines.

It was a while before Drift looked up and noticed Mal eyeing his alt mode. This being the first time Mal had seen his alt mode, or even a vehicle like it hadn't occurred to Drift then. ] Something up?

Edited 2022-05-30 00:45 (UTC)

[ the sight of the car in the room is a strange one, though mal's aware of what cars are. in theory. somewhat. he has yet to see one, let alone one like this.

he had intended to come to their room to change, to leave do just what drift was doing and clean out the pistol he'd used on the mission. it had done little against the monster compared to the gun he had bought on the planet itself but it still needed to be tended to after use. ravkan army guns were not known for staying in one piece without a mountain of extra care.

but he's not doing that, instead stopped with his pistol in hand and eyes on the ... on the car. he startles when drift speaks, glances over at him in his human form. ] Is that you?

[ The restrictions of the station and their last mission piled on Drift's own tendency towards isolation had made it something of a continuing issue when it came to explaining what exactly he was. It was circumstantial, but it was sometimes dizzyingly mystifying to be reminded that not all humans were familiar with their own creations that Drift had been emulating. ]

Oh, [ Drift blinked and lowered the swoard and oiled rag before looking at himself as if just noticing — well, himself ] Yes?

[ mal might be staring at his alt mode but it's with a look filled with fascination, less trepidation. ] A modernized car?

[ the mission that they'd come from, mal's not aware that they had cars quite like this. he catches himself after another moment of staring and looks back at the version of drift he's most familiar with. ] Haven't seen one before.

[ and then, aside from the whole car thing, he has an other question. ] So you can appear in many different forms?

A smidge past modern. [ Drift was never too entrenched in alt-mode identity to think much of it, but he was proud of his racers frame. An entire, messy spectrum of Cybertronian sociopolitical nonsense that Mal would understandably neither fathom nor care about. ]

What you see is what you get, really. [ He shrugged ]

I've offered driver lessons before. Ever try?

I see you in two places so seems like there's more to it than meets the eye.

[ it's a soldier's self control that keeps malyen oretsev from moving closer to get a better look and admire drift's alt form.

at least until driving is mentioned and then there's a spark of excitement on his features. ] Driving? Only a stage coach. [ and don't ask about that. ] Are you still offering them?

[ Her slender bare feet were propped over the rolled down passenger side window. Naked soles that must have felt the breeze cresting off the teeming emerald canopies of trees bowed over the winding country road. The air smelled warm with what remained of some previous storm baking through the asphalt and sweet with summer in bloom. A fat jacaranda tree hung low near the road just over the hood staining the sunlight filtering into the cabin a faint violet. There were no other sounds but the breeze and the idling engine.

The simulation was a convincing pocket of quiet. The one who generated it leaned his elbow on the steering wheel and thought about how convoluted this all was. Between his human guise and the all-too-real simulated deserted road, it was phantoms stacked on phantoms.

A faint peal of sound as an ice cube melted and slid against the wall of the glass Yennefer was holding broke the spell. Drift turned to look at her and said, ]

I thought this was supposed to be a driving lesson.

Edited 2022-05-30 23:53 (UTC)

[ At one point or another, she's also let her eyes drift shut, focusing instead on what she can feel over glimpse — and it serves to make the rest of her senses capable of perceiving more once the one drops out, which means she's both enjoying the sensation of the breeze tickling over her feet as well as wholly aware of even so much as the not-so-silent presence sitting contemplatively beside her. She could practically hear Drift thinking.

His voice finally pulls her from that momentary reverie and her head lolls against the supportive rest behind it, swiveling to take him in beside her. When her response finally emerges it's softer, but no less assertive, brows arching for added emphasis. ]

Oh, I'm learning quite a lot already. [ The ice tinkles in her glass as she shifts it into her grip, bringing it down closer to her lap, and her eyes run over his face, as if she has certain words on the tip of her tongue but only turns to reach for different ones at the last possible moment. ]

Very well. Proceed, o patient teacher.

[ Somewhere up in the impossible intermingling canopies of willow and jacaranda, birdsong pealed out, cutting through the otherwise quiet summer road. Part of Drift wonders if the simulation ran on some sort of empathetic response and decided to shake up the lull they had fallen in. Any longer, and that warm haze might have had them both nodding off.

— Even as only an extension of himself, the figure in the driver's seat couldn't stop the full-bodied yawn that made him stretch out in the cramped space from behind the wheel. He needed to get some rubber-burning before this drowsy, comfortable silence really did knock the both of them out cold. ]

You're learning how to fall asleep in a car without getting a crick in your neck. [ Drift said, before nodding to the strap hanging loosely beside Yennefer's seat. ]

I'd put that on first. I can easily coast at a hundred kilometers per hour on roads like these.

[ The idyll of the setting was proving to be something she'd needed, even if she hadn't been able to articulate it at the time — with the aftermath of the mission culminating in not only the destruction of the train but the near-loss of one of their group, Yennefer had only asserted herself to the extent of her abilities, especially given that her chaos had not been returned to her until they'd been transported back to the station. Here, it's much the same as it has been since the start, with everything feeling muffled, smothered, even the subtlest pull of chaos akin to trying to walk forward while waist-deep in a churning river.

In that sense, she was more than content to linger here until peaceably drifting off into a light doze, but on Drift's insistence, she finally leaned forward, drawing her legs up to bring her feet down onto the floormat in front of her and reaching for the restraint at his further bidding. ]

You would have to work up to a pace like that, wouldn't you? [ Said with a minute amount of alarm, as she suddenly considered the possibility of being thrown back in her seat from the sheer velocity of accelerating to something that quickly after literally sitting in place. ]

[Their last mission had been confining for them both — limited to the point of being hobbled. Small transformation joints in this form imperceptibly relaxed and tightened back into place. Just out of sight with only a slight bounce in the cabin to imply Drift had moved at all. Every bit the cat flexing its tightly coiled muscles before it disengaged from whatever sunny patch it had laid inert in for too long.

Drift turned in the driver's seat and reached over the console. Yennefer hadn't struggled with the seatbelt, but it wasn't something she was familiar with either. Once it had snapped into place, he had tested the give of the shoulder belt and latch plate. Satisfied, he smoothed the part of her dress he had rumbled in the process and sat back.

— At no point had he answered the question.

Instead, when the engine started, and its purr built up to a roar, he looked back at her and smiled.

The winding road and overheard canopy of trees slowly started to ease around them as Drift moved into the center of both lanes. A few seconds later, the gentle tunnel of yellow lines painted on the tarmac below them and the sea of green and lavender around them blurred more and more. Momentum was built before any warning could be given, and the little arrow on the speedometer lept up from 60 to 120 in the space of a blink. ]

Yeah, it takes a second. [ Drift spoke up over the crack of wind gusting through the open windows. ]

[ It's not a state she's eager to repeat any time soon — for reasons that are more her own than anything she would readily share with anyone, regardless of whatever personal significance they made hold for her. None but Yennefer herself are privy to the fact that her magic had been returned to her only shortly before her arrival, and the discovery that it had been taken from her yet again had proven more unsettling than she was necessarily willing to divulge to anyone, not the least of which because she'd felt less equipped to be able to assist in making any great attempts at tracking down the orb's location.

She instinctively raises her arms, looking over at him with an expression somewhere between incredulous and somewhat piqued about him wordlessly proceeding to assist her without her even asking for the aid — but has to resist the strong temptation to slap his hand away when he makes the adjustment on her dress.

It's an acceleration, to be sure; she isn't instantaneously thrust back in her seat from the sudden shift in speed, but she can start to perceive the difference in how they're traveling, much easier to pinpoint than when they had been in a larger vessel like the train. Here, the signs are closer, pressing in against her, not to mention the wind whipping through the open window that stirs her hair across her face and prompts her to have to sweep it back with an absent hand.

She doesn't have to level him with an accusatory glance, and certainly not while her heart had practically leapt up into her throat, but she takes a pause to try and recover herself before making so much as an attempt to respond, and in the meantime, all he gets is a purposeful narrowing of her gaze, her mouth forming a taut pinch.

If looks could kill he wouldn't be murdered at this point; there'd more than likely be some small torture occurring, the particulars of which she'll just leave to his imagination. ]

[ Once the initial jolt of inertia had burned itself out and he came to comfortable cruising speed, Drift allowed himself to slip into the moment. He was as much the roar of the engine and the polished glass-smooth slide of tires across the road as he was the person smiling in the driver's seat. There was no easy way to describe how he experienced the wind over his chassis or how the jacaranda petals kicked up around his wheels was comparable to feeling them pass through the fingers of his hand he left hanging out the open window.

— He might have gotten lost in the sensation of finally being 'let out' to drive if Yennefer wasn't determined to burrow holes into his head with that look. ]

What? [ Drift asked with feigned innocence, rolling up the windows before the wind could carry away the audible satisfaction in his voice. ] You got a little...

[ He tapped the side of his nose where on Yennefer strands of ravendown hair stuck to her face like silken spiderwebs. ]

[ There is an exhilaration that follows, but she hasn't even been given the initial opportunity to enjoy it for how suddenly it had occurred, surprising her too much to let her fully experience the thrill of shifting to a sudden speed. Part of her remains aware of the fact that they're technically stationary, with wheels rolling on a track while the scenery is transformed around them to mimic an actual atmosphere — but the level of intricacy and detail that's been captured here is impressive enough to exist on the level of any illusion magic, right down to even the flowering scents in the air.

With the windows rolled up, it offers the sensation of being even more enclosed — which means she doesn't need to move to raise her voice to be heard at this juncture.

One hand slowly, and methodically, rises so that she can tuck fingers beneath the strands of hair and then just as deliberately shift them back, all without breaking eye contact —

— and then she reaches across the space between them and flicks his ear without any preamble. ] That's for being a menace.

[ Knowing they're on a track is something Drift tries to keep on the back burner. Living on a ship designed for human-sized crewmembers was confining enough, feeling like an animal deprived of stimuli pacing in its cage was something he didn't want to entertain. The company helped, and Yennefer's genuine awe at the experience and illusion made it almost real.

Yennefer's murderous intent over some flyaway hairs certainly contributed to being grounded at the moment instead of seeing the cracks in the illusion. ]

— Ow [ Drift jumped in his seat with a sharp cry like a dog who took a faceful of rolled-up newspaper. He knew some of his human friends forgot how keen his senses were in this form, but he knew better to assume Yennefer had let that detail slip. ]

I'd hate to think what happens when you're actually annoyed and not just begrudgingly charmed by my antics.

"Begrudgingly charmed" would be putting it very generously.

[ There are times when his increased sensitivity does escape her memory, though what surprises her more is how she experiences the brief pang of instinct to lean in and soothe over the retaliatory sting she's just caused. It's a lesson he'd suggested, though she suspects primarily for the purposes of giving her the experience to take her mind off of recent events, even if she'll never directly draw his attention to her theory.

Still, there is the slightest inclination to simply find out what would happen if she moved to pursue a different avenue of diversion.

After a moment, she settles for stretching a hand out across the space between his seat and her own and bringing it to rest against the nape of his neck, absently stroking fingertips over skin. ]

And here you are, not wringing my neck.

[ Not that strangling someone who doesn't need to breathe would have accomplished much, but Yennefer would have committed to the task with an energetic effort. She had left a remarkable impression in a short amount of time that Drift whole believes she heard blood from a stone as a personal challenge and overcome it. Barehanded.

While she might not try to squeeze his face purple, the fingers now ghosting across his neck stoked a reaction out in him. Drift had always liked deft hands. Almost immediately, Drift was leaning into the touch, chasing every little thrill, when manicured nails raked lightly over the shorts hairs at the base of his skull. His eyes closed in pleasure — an alarming act for someone with hands on the steering wheel going seventy miles per hour. Usually.

Absentmindedly, one hand falls to Yennefer's side, draped over her knee, thumb kneading through the fabric of her dress just below the kneecap. ]

The exact opposite, I'd argue.

[ It might be a wordless attempt to offer something of an olive branch after having retaliated against his mischief, but she'll only venture to admit so far along those lines if (rightfully) called out for the obvious follow-up. Bearing witness to him briefly shuttering his eyes against the road in front of them would have been a more alarming sight had she not remembered that technically, they were seated in his other form — followed by the recollection that he could simply view their surroundings outside of the one that was currently displaying more visible signs of enjoyment.

It seems directly tied to the aftermath of her nails lightly dragging across the back of his neck, so she performs it again, a partly selfish motion given that touching him here is more of an afterthought; her head lolls to one side against her own shoulder, and when his hand drops to complete the circuit in kind, she doesn't draw away, doesn't even so much as shift her weight so she doesn't succeed in dislodging him. ]

Besides, it would take much more effort than I'm willing to expend, and I still have a drink to finish.

Explain this to me again? [ Drift held up the controller Peter had foisted on him a moment earlier with little explanation.

They were in the simulation room, but Drift had no idea where he was supposed to be and what possessed Peter to create this environment. They were seated on bean bags in front of a television set at least a couple of decades out of date. The room was a cramped finished basement with shag carpeting and wood-paneled walls mostly crowded with peeling and faded posters for bands Drift only recognized a small percentage of. The CRT screen with the thin film of dust flashed with the logo: MARIO KART

— Everything Drift was holding or sitting on was, of course, comically oversized to accommodate him. ]

You invited me, a robot who turns into a car, to play...a racing game?

Edited 2022-05-31 00:11 (UTC)

Not just any racing game, THE racing game by excellence. Mario Kart, man. It's super fun.

[ The room is so Drift can get into the true spirit of the 80s and also enjoy videogames as they were always meant to be played. How Peter learned about Mario Kart, considering it was invented after he left Earth, is anyone's wonder, but it definitely left an impression on him.

He was definitely proud of the room's looks too; he pulled it out of his memory, and improved it in some ways. A remembrance of better times when his life was easier and his mom healthy, when the universe had yet to screw with him. ]

Are you trying to tell me you don't know how to drive unless you are in car mode?

What did the little guy do? [ Drift waggled his finger at the idling screen as Mario circles around a track in full, 32-bit glory. The oversized controllers were clunky and unwieldy in his hands. While Drift didn't know much about the system but could've sworn Peter pulled secondhand knowledge of the 1990s and somehow wound up getting some of the finer details wrong.

While the room was definitely Peter's, the game was a bit of a guess. That reasoned as they both had only approximate knowledge of Earth from a narrow time window. This could only go uphill from here. ]

Not with this! [ Drift crows, and shakes the controller at Peter. ] Anyway I can...pilot a shuttle, a ship too if need be.

[ So no, he could not really. ]

Edited 2022-06-02 01:13 (UTC)

[ The hunt for Minimus Ambus had been as straightforward as the mech he was looking for. Drift had thought of the least organized place on the station and went from there. The common area had never been a wreck, but after missions tidying up was the furthest thing from anyone's when they blew through to clear their heads.

Sure enough, when Drift had made his way into the common area, he saw that every off-kilter piece of the furniture had been put to rights and everything put back in its place. Not only that, the bookshelves were organized alphabetically by author and genre.

Oh, Mims. ]

I was hoping to run into you. [ Drift announced himself as Minimus was setting a Tolkien next to a Tolstoy, putting up his hands in friendly surrender if the other would be startled by his sudden appearnce. ]

[The first mission hadn't been as harrowing as Minimus had anticipated, save for stealing an artifact from a grieving family. The mysteries and sudden appearance of a monster reminds him of their old adventures on the Lost Light, though the nostalgia has been lost after the realization that one of their teammates was not himself and had betrayed two friends. Minimus hadn't really known Newt that well, but seeing that the precursors were being handled, he directed his post-fight energy elsewhere.

Megatron was busy in the medbay, so that option was not available.

Clearly, it was time to clean up after the others. He's rather proud of what he's done. Now it's only a matter of time before his work is undone, but sorting the books is calming.]

Was there something about which you want to talk? [He traces his fingers over the shelf and removes "War And Peace" to set it at the end of the Tolstoy line.]

[ All of them had returned unscathed — even if one had returned with a murderously troublesome stowaway. Not bad for Minimus's first mission. Drift hadn't been able to speak at length with the Lost Light's former second-in-command then. Things had still been tense with a Megatron-sized rift between them.

The reason Drift had gone looking for Ambus in the first place. ]

Yes, actually. If I'm not interrupting... [ He nodded to the shelves ] Important station maintenance.

Edited 2022-05-30 01:40 (UTC)

I can talk and work at the same time.

[This stuff is easy. It's like his hands can automatically detect improperly sorted books just by holding them.]

[ Drift stares at the back of Minimus's head, as if hoping a fixed look would either expediate the task or get the fastidious mech to prioritize. ]

I was hoping you could help me mend bridges with Megatron. [ Drift said, switching to another tactic: being blunt. ]

[His hand stalls. After punching him, Minimus wasn't certain if Drift was willing to trust him with such a delicate matter, but people continue to surprise him.]

I take it that you are no longer upset with me?

I was never upset with you— [ Drift said quickly, but reined himself in enough to avoid sounding defensive. ]

—You didn't know. About Ratchet [ Saying that name still made his spark twist and clench enough to make him want to double over in pain. ] Any of it. Taking it out on you was a terrible mistake on my part.

I accept your apology.

[It's good to have confirmation, but when he turns around, his arms are close and folded against his chest.]

...But I must offer my condolences. I imagine it has not been easy for you in the past several months.

That's not why I'm here. [ This time, Drift couldn't curb the defensiveness creeping into his voice. In all likelihood, Megatron had filled in the gaps, and he was hardly an impartial source of information.

Which was part of the problem. Drift's shoulders sagged, ]

...but thank you.

Edited 2022-05-30 02:49 (UTC)

[As much as Minimus wishes to connect with an old friend, as much as he wants to understand what's going on, he knows he cannot do anything that will help Drift feel better. That's not one of his strengths.

Yet here he is, the one person who can help Drift and Megatron reconcile. He supposes it shouldn't be too different than resolving legal disputes.]

You mentioned that you were on poor terms with Megatron. Was there any reason in particular?

Yes, [ Drift answered, flatly like his mind was elsewhere. It wasn't, he had just become numb to this song and dance even without Megatron here. ] He thinks I'm losing my mind, and I pretty much told him he was just using his time here to whimper in a corner waiting to die.

[ Drift sighs so deeply it shook his frame ]

That's just it - it's why we never spoke aboard the Lost Light, and when we did I wasn't even fully conscious. Even if we don't want to, when you know someone as long as we've known each other every word levelled at the other are the kind that leave scars.

[Minimus does not allow any outward reaction to that slight against Megatron. They both know they can't give him a happier life, but accepting his fate isn't whimpering. The Megatron he loves isn't a coward like that.

But this is not about his own feelings. This is about a former warlord and the assassin that served under him.]

It seems as if you disagree on your reasonings for being on this ship. However, if you wish to resolve your differences, we should bring Megatron here with me acting as a mediator. [He can't imagine how difficult the past several months have been for these two, constantly arguing and picking at each other's metaphorical scars.] If your past relationship was painful, then it makes sense that you would continue to have poor experiences together.

That's putting it mildly. [ Drift strains under the urge to grimace, he knows Minimus wouldn't allow himself even a second of lapsed self-possession, but a nerve had to have been hit. There was no clear-cut way for Drift to ask for the other mech's help given the situation, but Minimus was his best (and only) bet to seeing this resolved. ]

That's just it — that past is also recent. We've been the only two Cybertronians aboard this station for several months, and it's been...complicated. [ Drift shook his head and debated dropping into one of the lounge chairs until deciding instead, he wanted to appear like he at least had it together. ]

You being here might be our only chance of civility. He and I can't do this back and forth of cleaving to each other as our only source of familiarity one minute and going at each other's throats the next. [ Shrugging, Drift adds without thinking — ] It's not like we'll go back to sleeping with each other to scratch an itch, but we should at least be on speaking terms again.

[Minimus remains standing and watching Drift. As unfamiliar as he is with their shared history, what he knows now is enough to get a clear picture. Two allies-turned-enemies-turned allies have a complex system of memories to navigate, and without confidantes from their home universes, they have only managed to spiral.

He nods at Drift's statement, accepting that he knows he was in the wrong to lash out at Megatron while admitting that he is not in a good place-- wait, cleaving? As opposed going at each other's throats? "Cleaving" was meant to be taken positively? His head freezes while he processor tries to understand what just happened.]

Back to - you used to sleep together while you worked for him?! [That's...unprofessional!]

Recently [ Drift clarified without thinking, or really only thinking that Minimus was so detail-oriented it reasoned to be clear on all of said details. The last thing he wanted was for something to come up later and the bot to fly into a tizzy because he'd have to revise a report or something.

— Was Minimus going to write up a report on this? ]

The 'Cons were different. You've read his earlier works, right? [ Dig deep enough and some of Megatron's earlier (racier) and certainly obscure poems. ]

RECENTLY?! [He cannot stop his hand from gripping his head.] How recently?! I thought you two were on bad terms! Why would you- his earlier works have nothing to do with this! That's not the same thing as- as...!

[He spins on his heel and paces, ignoring how his feet kick up the edges of rugs. Were they rekindling something before Minimus appeared? Is he a rebound, Megatron's second choice after Drift?]

You did this on the regular, and no one spoke to me of it?! [Now he manages to pull his thoughts together and point an accusatory finger at Drift.] I should have known this before we went on that mission!

Ambus- [ Drift visibly winched and his hands instinctively went out and made open palmed, downward motions — the universal 'lower your voice' gesture. ] Please, there was hardly time and I thought he might have —

[ A heavy sigh. Of course, Megatron would have let that slip. Better to avoid it altogether while pretending to wait for the right moment. ]

It was a mistake made in grief, and it wasn't something we were keeping from you intentionally. [ Drift lowers his voice and holds Minimus in a level stare. ] He wouldn't have wanted to upset you, and it may have been months aboard this station, but Megatron has been alone for centuries. He never thought you would've wound up here in the first place.

[If he were in a better state of mind, Minimus would be appalled at raising his voice when discussing intimate affairs. Unfortunately for everyone, he's panicking like the out-of-practice lover he is.

At least he's toning it down to a harsh just-above-a-whisper volume.]But multiple occasions, Drift! None of this is sane! Why this? Why not- why not--?

[He can't even pinpoint why this is hurting him so much. Maybe it's because it involves two people that he trusts. Maybe it's because he can't understand how someone could choose to sleep with another with so little thought. Maybe he's simply terrified - what if he's being compared to Drift? What if something goes wrong (as it always does), and they continue behind his back?

And here Minimus thought that he had gained enough confidence to handle a relationship. It's not even been a month and he's already feeling the pangs of jealousy.

He places his fingers over his eyes and grimaces.] I had foolishly hoped that this would be simple without Cybertron watching us.

No, none of it was rational. None of it was because we wanted to be sensible. [ Because reasoning meant stepping back and accepting how genuinely alone he and Megatron were out here. And how tenuous this little peace was, or how much of it hinged on the slim hope these missions would amount to anything.

Drift finally sat down as though the weight of his culpability in Minimus's distress were firm hands pushing down on his shoulders. ]

I'm sorry [ He said after a silence ] that I did this to you. Everything really came home to roost all at once.

[They are all friends. They all survived a war. Everyone makes mistakes, even if they apparently betray him and hide evidence of an extended affair. But they thought they could get away with it, and that's what infuriates Minimus.

He removes his hands from his face after coming to the conclusion that there is nothing else Drift can do to make him feel better.] Go. I have work here to do.

[At least the books won't fool around with his boyfriend.]

CLOSED | after the Murder on the Disoriented Express

→ Mal

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

→ Yennefer

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

→ Peter

no subject

no subject

→ Minimus Ambus

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject