[ti]Ep 3[/ti]From Out of Nowhere (Closed)
Nov 7, 2020 23:43:47 GMT -5
Post by Dart on Nov 7, 2020 23:43:47 GMT -5
It had been over a year since she'd stood here in Australia.
That long. So many miles, so much distance. So many changes, before, during and then after it, but weirdly... right now, it felt like no time at all. Her panic settled into simply unease as her olfactory sensors dragged her back; the harsh sharpness of the salt flats cloying and thick, mingled with the sap of broken shrubs under foot.
Dart tucked her hands quietly behind her back as Pyrotech and Thundercracker discussed his role tonight. She snuck a quick peek at the sky, and lost herself in the color and the stars.
It's still strange to see the Southern Cross and not the Big Dipper, she thought.
It was one of those things that had thrown her for a while. She often could orientate herself in the States by the stars and the constellations. When they'd arrived here, it had been entirely different, and she simply didn't know what she was looking at or how to navigate with it. These were not the same patterns that speckled the sky over Blackridge.
Except Sirius. The Dog Star. She'd forgotten about that until now, but- now she tucked that fact close and tight.
Honestly though, everything was mostly different when you stepped into a ground-bridge at one time and weather and came out the other side in a whole other biome and world. The rainy morning they had left behind was now a dry, warm evening. The rivulets of chilly water still dripping from Dart's plating were sucked up instantly by the the thirsty ground.
As Pyrotech stepped forward, Dart quickly lifted her nose and sniffed at the air once more. As the mech folded into his vehicle mode, she leveled her blue gaze across the expanse of pale salt. The points of metal behind her shoulders pricked forward and then flicked back and forth. Then she too transformed, the long-legged, scruffy femme becoming a dark, slope-hooded, equally worn and gouged Trans Am.
The sports car's engine ticked and rattled as the vehicle shifted back and forth on threadbare tires, her mirrors twitching as she hurried to drive and catch up to her commander.
At least the salt flats were like driving on a recently paved road. Dart appreciated that, and also appreciated the lack of speedbumps and rocks. Trans Am's were never meant to be off-road vehicles, that was for sure.
That long. So many miles, so much distance. So many changes, before, during and then after it, but weirdly... right now, it felt like no time at all. Her panic settled into simply unease as her olfactory sensors dragged her back; the harsh sharpness of the salt flats cloying and thick, mingled with the sap of broken shrubs under foot.
Dart tucked her hands quietly behind her back as Pyrotech and Thundercracker discussed his role tonight. She snuck a quick peek at the sky, and lost herself in the color and the stars.
It's still strange to see the Southern Cross and not the Big Dipper, she thought.
It was one of those things that had thrown her for a while. She often could orientate herself in the States by the stars and the constellations. When they'd arrived here, it had been entirely different, and she simply didn't know what she was looking at or how to navigate with it. These were not the same patterns that speckled the sky over Blackridge.
Except Sirius. The Dog Star. She'd forgotten about that until now, but- now she tucked that fact close and tight.
Honestly though, everything was mostly different when you stepped into a ground-bridge at one time and weather and came out the other side in a whole other biome and world. The rainy morning they had left behind was now a dry, warm evening. The rivulets of chilly water still dripping from Dart's plating were sucked up instantly by the the thirsty ground.
As Pyrotech stepped forward, Dart quickly lifted her nose and sniffed at the air once more. As the mech folded into his vehicle mode, she leveled her blue gaze across the expanse of pale salt. The points of metal behind her shoulders pricked forward and then flicked back and forth. Then she too transformed, the long-legged, scruffy femme becoming a dark, slope-hooded, equally worn and gouged Trans Am.
The sports car's engine ticked and rattled as the vehicle shifted back and forth on threadbare tires, her mirrors twitching as she hurried to drive and catch up to her commander.
At least the salt flats were like driving on a recently paved road. Dart appreciated that, and also appreciated the lack of speedbumps and rocks. Trans Am's were never meant to be off-road vehicles, that was for sure.