[open] starve the ego, feed the soul

[auramatic]

Who| Drift and YOU!
What| Meet the new 20 foot tall shape-changing robot in town. He's pretty friendly.
Where| All around Legion World, Drift's biome, the training gym
Warnings/Notes| n/a

This is all...a lot. The last thing Drift remembers before waking up here was being in his shuttle, far, far away from the ship he'd been exiled from. Voluntarily exiled, because no one else could have taken the fall -- it had to be him. For everyone else's sake. And so he'd been alone, stripped of his Autobrand and adrift in the stars, looking for...something.

And now he's here, and he's wondering if this was what he was looking for. He took the oath almost immediately, because being asked to help save not just a world, but every world? Primus must have sent him here for a reason -- this reason -- why else would he be here? This must be some sort of chance at redemption, right? He doesn't really know if he deserves it, but hey, he's not going to argue against the will of a creator god. He just...has to have faith.

a. wandering around
Drift hasn't been around this many organics in...a while, not since he was last on Earth. It's kind of wild to think he's jumped a thousand years into the future. Humans seem to be doing pretty alright these days. He had forgotten how weird it was to be this much bigger than most people around him, though. At least he's got his swords. All three of them. It is a comfort.

He's milling around Legion World once he's settled in enough, getting his bearings. It's massive here, and there's a lot to see -- and where the space is wide enough, he'll be driving instead of walking. He hasn't had a chance to stretch his t-cog and drive around in his alt mode for a while, but despite the flashy sports car appearance, he is moving at a reasonably polite speed.

b. biome
Drift's biome is a little slice of Cybertron. It might not look very hospitable to organics -- it's cyberformed rather than terraformed, ideal for a race of sentient alien robots, but while the vast plains and jagged hills might look barren and cold to humans, it's basically the heart of nature for Drift. His biome is mostly untamed, open wilderness, though there's a building he's made a home for himself, complete with a designated meditation space in the style of Spectralism (read: very New Age-y). He's happy to greet anyone coming by, but if he's keeping to himself, it's almost definitely because he's meditating. Or trying, anyway.

c. training gym
It has not occurred to Drift that it might not be very polite to practice with swords in the gym considering how much space a 20 foot tall robot takes up, but he has at least placed him as far in a corner away from other fellow gym-goers so as not to get in their way. He could be doing sword kata back in his biome, sure, but he's spent...a lot of time alone in the last few months. Being around other people, even total strangers, is preferable background noise to the deafening silence of solitude.

He is pretty absorbed in his robot kata, though, going through the motions with a sword in each hand, though he'll stop to chat if anyone catches his attention. He has a third sword strapped to his back, apparently not currently in use, and if you are wondering if this guy really needs to be carrying three swords at all times: yes. Yes, he does.

d. wildcard!
[ feel free to hit me up at runawayballista to plot things! ]

Comments

thankfully he likes humans more than some other robots

[auramatic]

Every empty stretch of corridor Drift can roll through is like one good, long stretch, but he doesn't get the sense that accidentally squashing organics in his first week here would endear him to his new teammates, so he's being generally careful. He sees Robbie just far enough from a distance that he comes to a neat halt with a squeak of his tires.

He transforms in response, the panels and wheels shifting into a more humanoid form as he jumps into the air, landing crouched and fully transformed in front of Robbie with a totally unnecessary backflip. His optics are bright with a smile, and for a guy with three swords strapped to him, he's got an awfully cheerful vibe. Where were those swords while he was a car? Where indeed.

"Actually, I am the wheels." Rather than stretching to his fault, Drift stays crouched with his elbows resting on his knees. It seems more polite. "I'm kind of a new arrival. The name's Drift."

[walkingballpit]

The unnecessary backflip is probably the least surprising thing about Drift, all things considered.

A car that started to change into something else - that wasn't so odd in and of itself, but then there was a humanoid shape to it. And swords. Three swords, in fact, which seemed more frivolous than the backflip, given that the android... car... Drift only has two arms. Robbie counted.

He also hasn't missed the relative size difference. Drift, despite being crouched, is not shorter than Robbie. That's alarming. "You... are the wheels. Right."

Forgive him for leaning to the side to see if Drift has a spare tire for a butt. It's just one of those things he has to know, and be grateful that he is suppressing about half a dozen inappropriate responses. Thank god for classes on Roboticans getting most of it out of his system. "I'm Robbie. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I like mine not squished flat... seriously, Drift as in Tokyo Drift? It's a little on the nose."

[auramatic]

No spare tire, Robbie, just a perfectly ordinary Cybertronian butt.

Drift raises a robot not-eyebrow at him. "Hey, I had the name millions of years before I ever went to Japan -- or even heard of Earth, for that matter." He waves his hand in a don't worry about it gesture. "I'd like to think I have a little better fine motor control than that, but then again, humans are usually, er...pretty squishy."

[walkingballpit]

That's strangely disappointing.

And it's amazing how well the not-eyebrow translates. Robbie's more confused over the implication of the words. "You look pretty high-tech for millions of years old."

Is that the appropriate compliment? Electronic beings don't really look young ever, although sometimes they can act it. "Hey. Rumors of my squishiness are vastly overrated, and Nova Prime cheated. But, yeah, you can't take my non-squishiness as a universal."

[auramatic]

Drift gives him a half-grin.

"Well, Cybertronians live a pretty long time, and it takes a lot to kill one of us, though I've come close a few times." Getting squashed nearly to death on Theophany, falling on his own sword at Vector Sigma... "We can upgrade ourselves. Replace certain parts. But mostly we evolved, just like you humans."

But then he gives Robbie a quizzical look. "Wait -- Nova Prime?"

[walkingballpit]

"A million years is only a pretty long time?" Robbie raises an eyebrow at that. "How long did that evolution take?"

It's not a sarcastic question. If a life span is millions of years, it's pretty obvious that, er, Cybertronians are probably trillions of years old as a race. Evolution takes a long time.

As for Drift's question, Rob immediately assumes that Drift knows the Nova Corps. The Cybertronians must be some farflung space-race. "And, yeah. You'll know him when you see him. Big dude. Got a metal star on his buckethead, right here."

He tapped the middle of his forehead. "He became the Prime a few years ago. I don't know who it was before, but I've got the distinct impression the story isn't a good one, so ix-nay on the estions-quay."

[auramatic]

At this point Drift's too confused to know if he's supposed to be imagining a human or a Cybertronian by that description, and sheer befuddlement wins over his expression.

"Wait -- humans have Primes? Since when do you have Primes? I don't remember hearing about that on Earth..."

[walkingballpit]

"Humans don't, unless you mean prime numbers. Xandarians do," Robbie corrected gently, but without an excessive effort to ensure that the explanation would make sense to someone from a possibly different universe.

"Okay, so Rich is technically human, but he did run off and join the Xandarian army. Anyway, nobody really talks about the Nova Corps on Earth. They're sort of a deep reaches of the galaxy thing."

[auramatic]

Nova Corps. Alright, Drift has no idea what that is, but it's definitely a different kind of Prime. He looks slightly less lost, rubbing his chin with one hand.

"Xandarians -- another race?" he asks. "Are Primes like their leaders?"

[walkingballpit]

"Yeah, but I think they don't exist in this universe," Robbie explains with a series of nods. He feels like he's missing something. He's generally missing something - it's just usually because people like Querl are sciencing in the same room.

Then again, Drift is sort of sciencing at him by just existing. Maybe that's it. "And yeah, the Prime is the leader. They've got different ranks or something. You should ask Rich, if you can figure out a way to not remind him that everyone else... died. You probably shouldn't ask."

It would be horribly awkward. Talking about it is enough to make Robbie feel terrible for being able to discuss it in such a detached manner, when it probably eats Rich up on a daily basis. It's better to change the subject. "If you can turn into a car, what's with the swords? Couldn't you just put spikes on your grill and mow something down?"

[auramatic]

Awkward indeed. Drift politely sidesteps around that and just says, finally looking enlightened, "Our leaders were called Primes too. Kind of a funny coincidence."

The question actually makes him laugh. He's got kind of a weirdly cheerful vibe for a guy with so many swords. "Alt modes are better for travel than combat, most of the time. You need a little more finesse than a spoiler and a set of wheels. Besides..." He closes a hand over the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, although he doesn't draw it. "This one used to belong to a very good friend of mine. I always carry it with me."

[walkingballpit]

He might not say thanks, but there’s a grateful look on Robbie’s face that clearly says he knows Drift is ignoring the chance to ask more about the dead Corps. He assumes the discretion will cover Drift's future interaction with Rich, too. It’s nice to see that tact and kindness are somewhat universal.

“Really? Huh. I guess languages only need so many words for a leader. Once you cover the basics, President and Emperor and all that, it’s pretty much time to start a new language and start translating them.”

Robbie laughs along with him. “I guess my usual plan of ramming someone with myself isn’t so subtle, and it only works because I’m not worried about dents.”

Staring at the discussed sword, Robbie clears his throat. Looks like they're both awkwardly talking about death. The implied fate of the friend is plain, and he’s at a loss. A response seems needed, but 'I'm sorry' is weird when he doesn’t know anything about it. “That’s a nice way to keep them with you.”

[auramatic]

Ah, yes. Dead friends solidarity. Drift resets his vocalizer with a cough at about the same time Robbie clears his throat -- that's not awkward at all, nope. He hadn't really meant to let on that his old friend Wing was dead, but then again, maybe he's not really giving this human enough credit.

"It's all I have," he says, realizes that doesn't sound any less awkward or uncomfortable, and then tries again, this time with a half-smile. "No -- that's not really true. I learned a lot from him. He taught me that helping others is the highest calling you can aspire to." He waves an arm, gesturing to all of Legion World around them. "My calling, I guess."