#scourge tf

[parallelkozak]

unicron's very faithful hierophant and most deadly hunter-seeker

[timelessmulder]

a wingmates comm for @ferrum-negative​ involving language ;)

 The problem with certain injuries was that sometimes they got worse, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Scourge recognized that fact and had worked to accept there was nothing that could be done for his voice, but it didn't mean he had to like it. Though in the grand scheme of things, he was surprised at how long it took. 

Some days his voice would dip past the typical rough glitching, into moments where the sounds wouldn't form at all. On those days, instead of trying to force the words that were refusing to come through a damaged voice box, he opted to write. Sign and chirolinguistics would have been preferable, he thought, but not everyone on board knew either language. This had the downside of having to carry around a datapad, and he could not type as quickly as he thought, but it was better than sitting in silence with his own thoughts.

At current, he sat alone in a corner booth in Swerve's, wings half splayed to take advantage of the free space. He watched the others in their groups, and offered a slight nod and raise of his glass when he caught someone's eye; all friendly and beaming, just with their own friends to spend time with. He took no offense to it- it wasn't like they actively hated him anymore. It was hard to hold a grudge on the Lost Light it seemed. In the short term, sure, but the longer time wore on things mellowed out as the new normal settled into place.

Eventually, the Monsterbots tore into Swerve's with a cacophony of noise and their typical chaotic energy. Scourge watched them with a tilt to his head, eyes drifting to Grotusque who, unsurprisingly, was already looking at him. He had a toothy grin, showing off his large, pointed teeth befitting of one in a unit with "monster" in the name. He said something to his fellows, and Repugnus responded with a snort, shoving him in the direction of Scourge.

Grotusque made his way to Scourge, and settled across the booth from him, a beam stretching his mouth to show off sharp teeth that would make ancient Cybertronians proud. Scourge gave a small smile in response, and reached for his datapad to type out a message. Before he could, however, Grotusque stopped him, holding up a hand with a knowing glint in his eye before he reached out to take hold of Scourge's hands.

"Look," he said verbally, adjusting his grip until they were palm to palm. Then, in the delicate form of chirolinguistics, he added, "I've been practicing."

With Repugnus, no doubt, Scourge thought, sending a quick glance to Doublecross and his hands that were more like kibble than anything else. How he held anything was anyone's guess.

"Impressive," Scourge replied, mouth quirking. "Thank you." It was an earnest sentiment, though one not bearing surprise. Grotusque, for all his blunder - especially around his fellow Monsterbots - was not as wholly out of touch as some would believe.

Scourge shifted his own grip, so that he may pull Grotuesque towards him to place a light kiss on his knuckles. There was a laugh bubbling in Grotusque's throat, right before he closed the distance over the table - a horrible awkward thing, all things considered, that almost made Scourge laugh in response - to place a kiss on Scourge's nose, before finding his way to his mouth.

Their hands still clasped tight over the table, ready to start conversation again. Familiar and as it should be.