Life Sucks But Not Always

[needlefingers]

Who: Chromedome and you
Where: Some high point
When: ???
What: Who knows
Warnings: Mopey Robots and maybe some plotting

Life has gotten so much better upon realizing that your dead partner is no longer dead. Life gets a little more complicated when alternate timelines come into play, but Chromedome is willing to accept that. There were issues though. Of course there are issues, it wouldn't be Chromedome's life if it didn't have issues. He just wants to forget it all and move on. Was that really so wrong?

Despite Rewind being around, Chromedome couldn't shake off this feeling of nervous gloom. He figured it had something to do with Prowl who was, heh, prowling around out there somewhere. It made him feel hunted. He had to reassure himself several times that Prowl didn't want anything to do with him. The feeling was entirely mutual.

That didn't stop Chromedome from jumping a little bit at shadows.

Now don't get him wrong, he wasn't afraid of Prowl. Nah, he just didn't want to deal with him in any way. And he was justified in this! Dealing with Prowl lead to little things like emotional complications and the death of people he loves.

Which is sort of why he was up here. There was no way Prowl was going to want to repeat their last encounter. Some people might say that there was no way he could live his life like this, but Chromedome would argue that he absolutely could.

The other reason he was up here was that it was a good thinking spot. There was some plotting to be done, and thankfully it had nothing to do with Prowl. In fact it wasn't anything serious at all. That was the beauty of it. Maybe he'll ping Brainstorm later, to set it all in motion.

Comments

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus is sweeping the skies when he spots Chromedome. There's a familiar face, though not one he's certain he's pleased to see. Certainly the Autobot isn't likely to be pleased to see him, but he lands anyway, swooping low and transforming.

"Chromedome," he greets.

[ancillary]

Maybe it was that ubiquitous need for a walk to clear ones head; a breath fresh air and the like that brought her this far out. Maybe she had simply grown tired of being hold up in the modified hab suite she hewn for herself out in this alien sprawl, licking her wounds from that spat with Rodimus.

Yet here she was with the dead air picking up into a steady breeze that carded through her hair the higher she trekked until there was an undeniable, unfamiliar outline of a Cybertronian up ahead.

"Christ," She breathed out, "Mistook you for a statue."