![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Who: Ambulon and you!
Where: The city center
When: I think now? Yeah...now.
What: Ambulon thinks he's hung over and lost after a night of drinking
Warnings: None atm!
It could have been a crazy night. To be honest he can’t really recall. It certainly was a rare one, if nothing else. He has never been much of a partier, or even a particularly social mech. He remembers being in Swerves and having a few drinks with First Aid and maybe…was it Trailcutter? Skids? He can’t remember. It’s a bit hazy.
To say that he was confused to wake up in a pile of rubble would be an egregious understatement. As it stands, Ambulon looks up at the sky, draped partially over a portion of crumbled wall. Groaning he sits up, rubbing the dented plating on the small of his back.
Where the hell is he? He glances around the rather barren and decayed cityscape of what appears to be Cybertron. There is zero recollection of how he got here, or why he found it prudent to pass out on the remains of a building.
And where the pit was First Aid; he was the one who started this whole mess.
“Guys? First Aid? “ No response. Just the howling of wind as it winds through the carcass of a city. “Where are you, this isn’t funny.”
He gathers to his feet, when he hears someone approaching.
“Fragging hell, what in the pit happened last night?” he questions before his new company comes into view.
Where: The city center
When: I think now? Yeah...now.
What: Ambulon thinks he's hung over and lost after a night of drinking
Warnings: None atm!
It could have been a crazy night. To be honest he can’t really recall. It certainly was a rare one, if nothing else. He has never been much of a partier, or even a particularly social mech. He remembers being in Swerves and having a few drinks with First Aid and maybe…was it Trailcutter? Skids? He can’t remember. It’s a bit hazy.
To say that he was confused to wake up in a pile of rubble would be an egregious understatement. As it stands, Ambulon looks up at the sky, draped partially over a portion of crumbled wall. Groaning he sits up, rubbing the dented plating on the small of his back.
Where the hell is he? He glances around the rather barren and decayed cityscape of what appears to be Cybertron. There is zero recollection of how he got here, or why he found it prudent to pass out on the remains of a building.
And where the pit was First Aid; he was the one who started this whole mess.
“Guys? First Aid? “ No response. Just the howling of wind as it winds through the carcass of a city. “Where are you, this isn’t funny.”
He gathers to his feet, when he hears someone approaching.
“Fragging hell, what in the pit happened last night?” he questions before his new company comes into view.
no subject
"No," he says, though with some level of uncharacteristic uncertainty - Pipes won't pretend to understand how all the wibbily wobbily timey wimey stuff works. "It's just a bit-- weird."
no subject
"Then...how?" Words, Ambulon, use your words.
"What happening? Are we on Cybertron?"
no subject
Seeing as everyone Pipes has tried to help ended up FAR worse off.