"Frostbite," the pink female answers warmly, wrapping her arms around Frostbite's waist. She feels more relaxed, more in peace than she has since she set foot in the Ark. The memories that haunted her do not feel so real and immediate anymore.
The Firebird, however, is very real and immediate. And she had come all the way from Autobot City for Elita. It is a decent, Autobotly thing to do with someone who is having a breakdown... But it is touching all the same.
It gives Elita hope that she is doing the right thing by remaining here.
"Well," she says at last, loosening her grip on Frostbite. "Let us drink and be merry for tomorrow we may die."
Few of the Cybertronians who have been on Earth have lived as if they were half in the crypt already. It was natural to the Autobots who had not been on the Ark; the War had taken up too much of their lives for them to not know death's touch in some way.
Elita had survived for nine million years, but that did not mean she would survive tomorrow.
She wraps both hands around the mug and brings it to her mouth, optics dimming with pleasure as the electrosparkling liquid runs into her tubes. It's not as refined as Octane had served, but that was a meal for a battle. This was a meal for home.
"I would like that very much. It's such a different world... It bends before it breaks." She lowers the mug from her mouth to answer Frostbite, not quite as barbaric as to drink and talk at the same time. It wouldn't have affected the clarity of her speech, no, but it wouldn't have been polite.
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The Firebird, however, is very real and immediate. And she had come all the way from Autobot City for Elita. It is a decent, Autobotly thing to do with someone who is having a breakdown... But it is touching all the same.
It gives Elita hope that she is doing the right thing by remaining here.
"Well," she says at last, loosening her grip on Frostbite. "Let us drink and be merry for tomorrow we may die."
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(The comment has been removed)
Elita had survived for nine million years, but that did not mean she would survive tomorrow.
She wraps both hands around the mug and brings it to her mouth, optics dimming with pleasure as the electrosparkling liquid runs into her tubes. It's not as refined as Octane had served, but that was a meal for a battle. This was a meal for home.
"I would like that very much. It's such a different world... It bends before it breaks." She lowers the mug from her mouth to answer Frostbite, not quite as barbaric as to drink and talk at the same time. It wouldn't have affected the clarity of her speech, no, but it wouldn't have been polite.
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