(no subject)
G1 Chromia
Chromia is absently trailing through the outskirts of the Nexus’ hub. She’s hardly keeping track of her route; too busy silently mulling to watch, or even really care, where she's heading. Her thoughts are currently circulating round one of the newer prompts that hit her HUD earlier. Doubts.
She sighs out through her nose. Where to begin with that one? It certainly has broad enough basis for a good monologue anyway…
Well, she had doubts. Obviously. Everyone had something to doubt. Some concerns are well worth the time spent brooding; like whether this place is as truly innocent and wholesome as it appears. Others, like if she should turn back now in the event of another unexpected rain storm, were too trivial to matter. And Chromia generally does her best to keep her doubts over the latter to a minimum.
Sometimes she doubts herself. Sometimes she doubts others. And, again, everyone had to do one or the other at some point. But while certain doubts come and go with a bots changing mood, others remain consistent.
Rather than diminish, as one would expect in a war-free environment, Chromia has found her doubts evolve and complicate since she first wound up here. Her current concern, and most persistent, is her team back on Cybertron. Are they all safe? Has the energy crisis gotten worse? Have the Autobots on Earth contacted them? What do they think happened to her?
MIA probably.
She nodded to herself. It would be a perfectly reasonable assessment to come to. She’d likely assume no different were she in their position. But, she reasoned, what if they believed she was captured? Thought that she was being tortured for information or something... Chromia's expression darkened. What a lovely thought to entertain. And it did nothing but bring forth another string of worries.
Chromia held her commander in high regard. She knew Elita was smart, strong and incredibly caring. But the problem was that when her spark came into play, logic was usually all but thrown out the window; a cause for many of her and Chromia's tactical disputes. A flicker of fond amusement stirred in her optics, but quickly extinguished. She sincerely hoped that Elita wouldn’t do anything too stupid while she was gone.
Elita always was too compassionate for her own good. Chromia would be unsurprised if the femme commander were to make an attempt in "rescuing" her SIC. But still, Chromia knew with one hundred percent certainty that she’d never take unnecessary risks with the lives of her soldiers. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Elita.
If Elita, or any of the rest, got killed for my sake…
Chromia violently crushed the thought, engine revving with a dogged growl. They wouldn’t. That’s all there is to it. Elita may be a soft-spark, but she’s rational. She'd never risk their cause for something unfounded. Even if she believed Chromia was being held prisoner. By now, she should possess enough faith in her SIC to tough it out.
It’s not like it would be the first time, anyways.
But regardless, Chromia really did hope they thought her dead. If anything, it would be Pit of a lot less worry for her.
Her faceplates form a dour frown as she covers another stretch of dry ground in brooding silence. Another klik passes before she stops, gives the area a quick onceover and slumps her shoulders with a heavy sigh.
Now... where am I?
Chromia is absently trailing through the outskirts of the Nexus’ hub. She’s hardly keeping track of her route; too busy silently mulling to watch, or even really care, where she's heading. Her thoughts are currently circulating round one of the newer prompts that hit her HUD earlier. Doubts.
She sighs out through her nose. Where to begin with that one? It certainly has broad enough basis for a good monologue anyway…
Well, she had doubts. Obviously. Everyone had something to doubt. Some concerns are well worth the time spent brooding; like whether this place is as truly innocent and wholesome as it appears. Others, like if she should turn back now in the event of another unexpected rain storm, were too trivial to matter. And Chromia generally does her best to keep her doubts over the latter to a minimum.
Sometimes she doubts herself. Sometimes she doubts others. And, again, everyone had to do one or the other at some point. But while certain doubts come and go with a bots changing mood, others remain consistent.
Rather than diminish, as one would expect in a war-free environment, Chromia has found her doubts evolve and complicate since she first wound up here. Her current concern, and most persistent, is her team back on Cybertron. Are they all safe? Has the energy crisis gotten worse? Have the Autobots on Earth contacted them? What do they think happened to her?
MIA probably.
She nodded to herself. It would be a perfectly reasonable assessment to come to. She’d likely assume no different were she in their position. But, she reasoned, what if they believed she was captured? Thought that she was being tortured for information or something... Chromia's expression darkened. What a lovely thought to entertain. And it did nothing but bring forth another string of worries.
Chromia held her commander in high regard. She knew Elita was smart, strong and incredibly caring. But the problem was that when her spark came into play, logic was usually all but thrown out the window; a cause for many of her and Chromia's tactical disputes. A flicker of fond amusement stirred in her optics, but quickly extinguished. She sincerely hoped that Elita wouldn’t do anything too stupid while she was gone.
Elita always was too compassionate for her own good. Chromia would be unsurprised if the femme commander were to make an attempt in "rescuing" her SIC. But still, Chromia knew with one hundred percent certainty that she’d never take unnecessary risks with the lives of her soldiers. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Elita.
If Elita, or any of the rest, got killed for my sake…
Chromia violently crushed the thought, engine revving with a dogged growl. They wouldn’t. That’s all there is to it. Elita may be a soft-spark, but she’s rational. She'd never risk their cause for something unfounded. Even if she believed Chromia was being held prisoner. By now, she should possess enough faith in her SIC to tough it out.
It’s not like it would be the first time, anyways.
But regardless, Chromia really did hope they thought her dead. If anything, it would be Pit of a lot less worry for her.
Her faceplates form a dour frown as she covers another stretch of dry ground in brooding silence. Another klik passes before she stops, gives the area a quick onceover and slumps her shoulders with a heavy sigh.
Now... where am I?