Roadtrip
(OOC: open, but grump warning is set to medium.)
After the whole Swindle affair, to say Kup was in a special state of ill would have been an understatement. Mostly due to the fact that he felt that he had failed his soldiers; not really being of much use during the rescue operation or in the recovery effort. The old mech was given the greatest of second chances: rebuilt, repurposed, refocused, and at the end of the cycle it still meant little to nothing. It got under his plating and it twisted his wires in ways he hadn't felt in years. After a few days of brooding in the background and halfway satisfied that his 'bots were going to be alright, Kup dropped into his alt-mode and left without a word; intending to give the lads some room and himself time to vent some frustration.
Sitting on a bank of a lake in the evening sun, Kup had to admit that the fresh air in his vents did ease his systems. Aside from a quick refuel here and a bit of recharge under the stars there, the old mech had constantly been on the move for the last few days; losing his processes in the comforting thrum of his tires on earth and concentrating on the soothing act of just observing everything he passed. He wasn't sure where he was or where he was going, but more miles he traveled, the less it bothered him. Kup found it was liberating in a way, to surrender to the unknown, to not have to worry, to not lead or set an example. To trust others to carry on, as they seemed to trust in him in everything else.
As the old mech slowly stood and cast the stone he had been fiddling with into the lake, Kup mused to himself that he wasn't sure when he'd be able to trust himself to not take what seemed to be the weight of the world on his shoulder plating again. It was part of his job and responsiblity, though not always something he enjoyed. The day would come, he figured, when he would finally let it go and he could move on. Hopefully before he finally offlined. Primus knows that could be any day now, he chuckled to himself, ignoring the familiar pings in his HUD. He couldn't answer something he barely understood the question too, let alone respond to the prompt itself. Not that he liked doing that slag anyways.
Today, however, he had a few more miles to cover.
Kup promptly turned from his resting spot, tires spinning way before his altered frame hit the ground, intending to follow the sunset.
After the whole Swindle affair, to say Kup was in a special state of ill would have been an understatement. Mostly due to the fact that he felt that he had failed his soldiers; not really being of much use during the rescue operation or in the recovery effort. The old mech was given the greatest of second chances: rebuilt, repurposed, refocused, and at the end of the cycle it still meant little to nothing. It got under his plating and it twisted his wires in ways he hadn't felt in years. After a few days of brooding in the background and halfway satisfied that his 'bots were going to be alright, Kup dropped into his alt-mode and left without a word; intending to give the lads some room and himself time to vent some frustration.
Sitting on a bank of a lake in the evening sun, Kup had to admit that the fresh air in his vents did ease his systems. Aside from a quick refuel here and a bit of recharge under the stars there, the old mech had constantly been on the move for the last few days; losing his processes in the comforting thrum of his tires on earth and concentrating on the soothing act of just observing everything he passed. He wasn't sure where he was or where he was going, but more miles he traveled, the less it bothered him. Kup found it was liberating in a way, to surrender to the unknown, to not have to worry, to not lead or set an example. To trust others to carry on, as they seemed to trust in him in everything else.
As the old mech slowly stood and cast the stone he had been fiddling with into the lake, Kup mused to himself that he wasn't sure when he'd be able to trust himself to not take what seemed to be the weight of the world on his shoulder plating again. It was part of his job and responsiblity, though not always something he enjoyed. The day would come, he figured, when he would finally let it go and he could move on. Hopefully before he finally offlined. Primus knows that could be any day now, he chuckled to himself, ignoring the familiar pings in his HUD. He couldn't answer something he barely understood the question too, let alone respond to the prompt itself. Not that he liked doing that slag anyways.
Today, however, he had a few more miles to cover.
Kup promptly turned from his resting spot, tires spinning way before his altered frame hit the ground, intending to follow the sunset.