(no subject)
The wastelands may be dry and desolate as the lee side of an island, but with the perimeter sensors in place and the cluster of torches lighting their little camp, Oceanglide finds himself more content than he could feel in the city.
He looks up from the datapad he’s working on to scan the scene. Nearby, Waterlog is napping beneath the shelter of a small overhang, the light of the torches turning the warrior into a bundle of angled shadows. (Armorhide is doing much the same thing in vehicle mode on the opposite site of the camp.)
Stormcloud is lounging on a crate between his brothers, too restless to follow Waterlog’s example but tired - or preoccupied - enough to be quiet as he watches the others. Nightscream is chatting to Cliffjumper about an Autobot base they were both stationed at while he assists with fine-tuning some equipment. And Ironhide…
Oceanglide spots her prowling at the edge of the shadows, between the torn hillocks of upturned and shredded metal. No doubt her hulking friend is close behind.
The captain’s optics crease in what might be a smile. Such a peaceful little scene, with unease lurking just beyond the faltering torchlight.
Some things never change, he thinks, and ducks his head to go back to appending his maps.
He looks up from the datapad he’s working on to scan the scene. Nearby, Waterlog is napping beneath the shelter of a small overhang, the light of the torches turning the warrior into a bundle of angled shadows. (Armorhide is doing much the same thing in vehicle mode on the opposite site of the camp.)
Stormcloud is lounging on a crate between his brothers, too restless to follow Waterlog’s example but tired - or preoccupied - enough to be quiet as he watches the others. Nightscream is chatting to Cliffjumper about an Autobot base they were both stationed at while he assists with fine-tuning some equipment. And Ironhide…
Oceanglide spots her prowling at the edge of the shadows, between the torn hillocks of upturned and shredded metal. No doubt her hulking friend is close behind.
The captain’s optics crease in what might be a smile. Such a peaceful little scene, with unease lurking just beyond the faltering torchlight.
Some things never change, he thinks, and ducks his head to go back to appending his maps.