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Man. Even by dino-standards, this has been a wild week. A brutal one-on-one fight, thorough repairs including two full wing replacements, and a metaphorical pissing contest between his King and his ... other person. Swoop subsists on a diet of chaos and aerial tricks, but this is a lot even for him. Too many emotions.
He’s just going to toddle back through the Ark to get to their cave. Swoop still smells funny. He needs to roll in the dirt and all over his siblings to fix this.
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::Would you like to explain to me what, exactly, you did to Swoop while he was in your care?:: Was he being.. passive aggressive? Yes. And it wasn't something he had done in a very long time. ~explosion-prone-engineer
Oh boy, it’d completely slipped Tarantulas’s mind that he’d have to deal with Swoop’s actual guardians eventually. A deep sigh, a roll and fluff of his shoulders, and he dove into the fray.
«I generously and expertly repaired his injuries so neither of you had to. You really ought to keep a better optic on your little Dinobot son, you know - he’s gotten himself into no end of trouble these days.»
"Bob! It's so good to see you! Are you okay? Where have you been? Is there anything you need?" ~explosion-prone-engineer
There is no hesitation.
He is ecstatic to see Wheeljack.
“HUGS.”
Here, have an engineer slumping against your side with a heavy vent. He currently needs time away from everyone else in the world. ~explosion-prone-engineer
Slag offers a halfhearted grumble at being disturbed, turning his head to try to see who’s leaning on him. If it were one of his brothers, they might get nipped at or prodded with his horns.
Seeing Wheeljack slumped down earned another quiet grumble as he shifted to root mode to better sit up. “What’samatter?”
❄ ~explosion-prone-engineer
The white expanse this far up north had long since shifted from ankle high hills of powdery fluff to knee high mountains of packed ice. Grimlock, as always, plowed through it as if it were just another enemy he was facing down. His shoulders hunched against the howling winds and visor dimmed against the ice flecks that continued to fall thickly around them, caught by the wind and hammering against his front. Behind him he could barely make out the sound of his creator scrabbling in his wake, using the path Grimlock’s taller, broader frame created as he powered through the piling drifts of snow.
He wasn’t affected by the cold as most others were, his internal temperatures always high thanks to the literal fires in his belly. He wasn’t, however, impervious to it either. It would melt against his heated plating, refreeze with the wind, melt again, growing thicker with each refreeze and more difficult to melt. His joints were already beginning to stiffen up.
He couldn’t imagine how Wheeljack was fairing.
He squinted further, scanning for anything that could be construed as shelter through the thick haze of white. They were already lost, the road having been one of the first things to disappear as the blizzard had kicked up. At least they didn’t have to worry about Decepticons in this weath- there!
A hazy shadow amongst the white, like a splotch of marker against white paper. He half turned, the wind slamming against his newly exposed side and back.
“Me Grimlock see cave!” He shouted to his creator over the wind. “It not far!”
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Everyone is being mopey and reading about maintenance is boring. You know what this family needs?
A dance break.
Here, have a Wheeljack poking you in the side, Slag. He wants to do something with you. ~explosion-prone-engineer
ack-
The hand comes down to swat the offending digit poking him in the seams long before he registers that it’s Wheeljack and not Swoop.
That takes a few minutes to process, visor staring at the engineer while he blinks a few times in confusion.
“...Why you Wheeljack poke Me Slag?” >=T
::Sideswipe, how busy are you at the current moment?:: ~explosion-prone-engineer
:::Does being stuck in quarantine count as busy?:::
:::Because if it does it’s the most boring busy I’ve ever been.::: Which is half a lie. It’s hard to feel bored with stress singing through your lines.
:::Why? What’s up?:::
