@seeker-nightfall
Cont. from [x]
She was tired, injured, and her helm swam so badly that Nightfall barely understood where she was being taken. The mechs on either side of her did not speak, and did not obey her commands to release her at once, but they didn’t hurt her (more than she already was).
One wing hung at a strange angle, a slow trickle of energon left bright little spots on the clean, smooth floors.
By the time they dragged her before their master she had stopped trying to struggle.
Facing an aerial view of a city of smog, Eidos idly swirled a flute of highgrade, slim digits curled over its slender stem. A long robe swept down his shoulders to the floor, draping over his rotorblades, inky fabric adorned with shimmering, silver gems. He did not spare a single glance to the commotion behind him, instead taking a delicate sniff of his drink before raising it to hail an attendant from the shadows.
From the row of servants, one scuttled towards him, helm bowed, and offered a crystal platter. Another approached him with a fresh flute of chilled highgrade. He placed his discarded glass onto the platter, and took the new. A glimpse of his profile cut into the hazy glow of the city below, a face many would know.
“I’ve always despised coming here, to this vile city.” A silky, cool voice left his lips. “However, something of interest has caught my attention, and I so loathe to have the sanctity of my business be tainted by scavengers.”
He took a small sip, one that barely wet his glossa.
“Be truthful now, so that you will not waste my time: what sort of trade have you been conducting in my fighting pits?”
