[Flights of Fancy] Finding Home 01
May. 21st, 2018 06:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Finding Home
Characters: Drift, Perceptor, Original Character(s)
Universe: Flights of Fancy, Harpyformers
Rating: M
Enticements: Sexual Content, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Love at First Sight
Description: Perceptor’s spent so long among the humans, he’s almost forgotten how much he misses other harpies, until Drift wanders into Kaon, a pretty package of everything Perceptor never knew he wanted.
Chapter One – The First Meeting
Learning to hold the smooth, slick glass beakers had been a struggle. The test tubes were even harder. But he had learned.
Perceptor had nimble talons, long and narrow fingers, and shorter feathers around his carpals. He was lucky. All of this made it easier to use the humans’ equipment.
He still had to take great care. He was eternally grateful for Dr. Morgan’s kindness. He would not repay it with another broken item.
Perceptor hovered over the microscope and carefully nudged the slide with the tip of his talon. It made a pleasant tink as it slid into position. Perfect.
Perceptor eased behind the eyepiece. He was so much larger that doing so left a cramp in his neck, but it was worth it. His curiosity couldn’t be ignored or contained. It was the whole reason he’d come to Kaon University in the first place. Dr. Morgan’s invitation had been one he refused to ignore.
One talon rested on each dial. It took a bare nudge to adjust it to his preference. There. Perfect. Now he just needed to--
“Perceptor!”
He startled, scrambling back from the microscope, his knee bumping the edge of the desk. The equipment rattled ominously, and Perceptor hastened to grab it. He steadied the desk, his core thumping with alarm.
He turned his head slowly. One of the undergrads stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, though he had the decency to look apologetic.
“Sorry,” the human said, and blushed. Perceptor did not recognize this one, which meant he was not used to being in Perceptor’s proximity. “I just… um… we need you.”
“Can it not wait?” Perceptor demanded, only to pause and exhale. The child hadn’t meant any harm.
“No. It’s an emergency…?” The boy coughed into his hand, the color in his cheeks deepening to crimson. “There’s another one of you outside the gates, except he’s dead. Or at least, we think he is. We dunno. We didn’t get close enough to look.”
The alarm, slowly ebbing, returned with a vengeance. Perceptor had not seen another harpy since he’d left his aerie over a decade ago. Perhaps this was an overdue coincidence. Or perhaps more sinister circumstances were afoot.
“I see.” Perceptor pretended calm. “Outside the main gate?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll have a look. What color was he?”
The student shuffled his feet impatiently. “I dunno.” He shrugged. “Grey. Brown maybe. He’s dirty.”
Perceptor pressed his lips together. Alone and filthy? Perhaps this was someone in need of sanctuary rather than a prison cell. Only meeting him would tell.
“All right then. Let us go.”
~
Perceptor had spent so long in the laboratory that a sunny, spring morning had morphed into a fierce, storming afternoon. Upon seeing the deluge, the undergrad had balked, leaving Perceptor to continue on his own.
He could have flown. But the rain was thick and heavy, soaking his featherdown and leaving him feeling drowned. Besides, he was out of practice.
Beyond the main gate, a few humans had gathered. They huddled under an umbrella that was far too small, and essentially useless given the angle of the rainfall. Perceptor recognized none of them, though of course they knew his name. Their greetings were polite, if not cautious.
Some humans still spread the lie that harpies snatched human children, after all. Perceptor didn’t understand it. Apart from the rare Raptor, harpies didn’t consume meat or flesh at all.
A few feet from the students lay a sodden mess of muddy feathers, face down in the well-trod earth. Perceptor approached cautiously, for judging by size alone, this was a smol, though one trained for battle. The worn sheath and hint of a hilt suggested a warrior or soldier, perhaps from Iacon or Tesaurus.
The harpy was a touch on the lean side. Small patches of feathers were missing. A wound on his thigh had been hastily bandaged, or had become unraveled in the storm.
“Hello?”
Not a twitch.
Perceptor flushed, realizing he’d called out in the human language. Very few harpies spoke it. They had no reason to.
Percy switched to his native tongue and tried again. “Excuse me?”
Silence.
He dared crouch by the poor heap, noting that the harpy was not, in fact, dead. He still breathed, though it was shallow. He also raged with fever. Even with the cold wind and rain, Perceptor could feel the heat rising from the stranger.
Perceptor frowned.
The chance this poor smol meant him any harm was very slim. He was in no condition to injure anyone. Perceptor supposed he would take the risk, if only for the sake of his own conscience. He could not leave this harpy to die.
“Perceptor?”
He glanced back at the students huddled under their paltry umbrella. “This harpy lives. I’ll be bringing him back to my room.”
He rose and looked down, considering how best to approach this. They were almost of a size, but the harpy looked thin, perhaps underfed. This would be doable, if not slow, provided the smaller one did not wake and thrash about.
“Do you want help?” one of the females asked.
Perceptor shook his head. “No. In fact, you should keep your distance.” He knelt on the other side of the harpy and worked his hands beneath the limp body, scooping him up into his arms.
He staggered, the unknown harpy unexpectedly heavy. Lucky that he was not so far from home. The stranger did not stir, except to make the quietest of pained noises. Perceptor softened in sympathy. The poor thing. Was he younger than Perceptor thought? Maybe a youngling lost and far from home?
“Are you sure?”
Perceptor nodded, adjusted the harpy’s weight in his grip, and started toward the college. “Yes,” he replied. “If he wakes, he may act out of fear, and a harpy’s talons are not one to take lightly. It could easily rend your flesh from your bones.”
A human squeaked. As one, the three took several steps away.
Perceptor’s burden made another soft, sad noise. He shivered, claws twitching, head turning toward the fluff of Perceptor’s chest.
He was even more certain he’d made the right choice. This young one needed help, and Perceptor was not so far from his roots he could ignore another harpy in need.
Besides, it was getting quite lonely in Kaon. He also knew Dr. Morgan would be very interested to meet a new harpy for her research. Perhaps the stranger could be convinced to stay.
Only time would tell.
~
Drift woke slowly, surrounded by warmth, and surprised he woke at all. Hadn’t he collapsed outside a human city? He’d pushed himself to make it over the thickest of Kaon’s forest, and bright lights had drawn him forward. There was a moment where he’d realized it was human in origin, nothing to be trifled with, but by then it was too late.
Another frigid gust of drenched wind, and he’d dropped. Exhaustion made it impossible to catch himself. He tumbled head over feet. He didn’t remember hitting the ground.
Now he was warm?
He twitched his head. No heavy weight of chains. Not around his neck, nor around his wrists or ankles. There was bedding beneath him, soft and comforting. The air was filled with the scent of fresh fruit. Nearby, someone hummed quietly. The melody was almost familiar, or maybe that was Drift’s addled brain struggling to make sense.
Drift kept still and forced his eyes open, ever so slowly.
He was indoors, he realized, the roof above him solid and speckled with a variety of colors. He lay in a hammock lined with plush blankets, cradling his broken body. Someone had taken care to wrap his wounds.
Drift turned his head, his eyes widening in surprise.
There was another harpy here. He was a dark crimson, mostly around the torso, and his feathers darkened to black before lightening out to gray then white. Large, definitely bara-class. He sat with his back to Drift, feathers smoothed down.
The song came from him.
Drift fidgeted; the hammock creaked. His mysterious savior stopped singing. He turned to face Drift, his lips curved in a soft smile. He was stunning, Drift realized. His eyes were big and blue, like the ocean, something Drift had only ever seen from afar. But he remembered the glittering waters.
“Oh! You’re awake!” The bara rose to his feet and padded closer. He tilted his head, looking Drift over, his voice pleasant. “How’re you feeling?”
“Warm,” Drift croaked. His throat felt as dry as the badlands. At least that meant the other harpy wouldn’t have to hear the worst of his uncultured accent. “Thank you.”
“We outcasts must look after each other. Though of course, I may be presuming to call you an outcast.” He lowered himself to an empty stool by Drift’s bedside. “I am Perceptor, originally of Tyger Pax.”
“Drift. Iacon, by way of Tesaurus.” He gave his birth name. No need for Perceptor to know of ‘Deadlock’. That monster was left behind in Helex, where he belonged.
“Mmm. A seasoned traveler then.” Perceptor’s gentle smile was soothing. He tilted his head. “I have heard of your flock. Many great warriors are of Tesaurus.”
Yes. And Drift would never be among those stories. He’d left before he could make a name for himself. He would never rise in the ranks. He would never be what his carrier wanted him to be. Carrier had tried, but Drift simply didn’t have the skill.
So he’d left it all behind, keeping only Sire’s gift as the rare item he couldn’t bear to leave.
Drift’s eyes widened, and he bolted upright. “My blade! Where--”
“It is quite safe.” Perceptor gestured to his left.
Drift followed the motion with his eyes. His sheath hung on a rack which itself hung on the wall. It looked like someone had cleaned and polished the sheath even. How kind.
He sagged with relief. “Thank you,” he repeated. He swept a hand over his crest, surprised to find that he was clean. “For helping me, I mean. I should have died out there.”
“Were you exiled?”
“No.” Drift shook his head and offered a rueful grin. “But storming out in a fit of pique wasn’t the best idea either. What about you?”
“I chose to leave as well.” Perceptor’s gaze slid away, his feathers slicking down as his tone turned mournful. “There were things I wanted I could not have.”
Drift had never been to Tyger Pax. He knew nothing of its flock law. But if it was anything like Tesaurus or Iacon, he could understand why Perceptor left. Rules. Regulations. Expectations. They could be heavy weights to keep one grounded.
Drift looked around. This looked like no nest he’d ever seen, not even in Iacon, who had one of the more advanced flocks in all of Cybertron. In fact, if he had to guess…
“You live with the humans?” Drift asked. Alarm filled him all over again. Were they prisoners? Was this just a very nice jail cell?
“I do. This is Kaon University. I came here to study.”
Drift’s feathers twitched. He hunched his shoulders. “Is it safe?” He lowered his voice, glancing toward the door. “Do you need help escaping?”
Perceptor chuckled. “No. I’m quite welcome here.” His eyes lit up. “You are, too. If you wish to be.”
“Oh. I… actually don’t know where I want to be.” Drift ducked his head, his face heating.
He didn’t know where he wanted to go. He only knew he didn’t want to be home. He couldn’t bear to be surrounded by things he couldn’t have, and he certainly couldn’t bear the weight of his carrier’s expectations either. There was only so much sire could do, having lost the challenge. He was expected to bow to Carrier in all things.
Drift’s stomach chose that moment to grumble. Loudly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything more than a handful of hunt rations – dry nuts and berries, without so much as a sip of water to keep it down.
“Sorry.” Embarrassment wove a thick web around his core. Could he throw himself out the window now? Not that it would do any good since he could fly.
Frag. He couldn’t even mope properly.
Perceptor’s eyes widened. “No, it’s my fault. I’m a terrible host.” He hopped to his tarsals, a few feathers floating down in his wake.
Drift snatched them from the air, admiring the red hue of them. So dark. Almost like spilled blood. He tucked the feather under his rump as Perceptor returned.
“Here. Would you like some fruit?” Perceptor urged a thick bowl toward Drift.
Several different types of fruit rolled around together in a colorful array. They smelled perfectly ripe, perfectly sweet, and Drift’s mouth watered. His belly protested emptiness once more.
“Yes, please.” Drift snatched a peach and two plums. Weren’t they out of season? Did they even grow naturally here?
“They are from the university’s gardens,” Perceptor explained as he returned to his chair, still cradling the bowl. “Thanks to them, I eat quite well.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Yes, I am.” Perceptor’s hands rubbed around the bowl as though he were nervous, which was ridiculous. Drift was much smaller than him, and his thigh was all bandaged up. “If you have your strength, perhaps after you eat I can give you a tour.”
Drift licked his lips clean of peach juice. “You’re allowed to walk around?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not a prisoner.”
“Oh.” Drift ducked his head. He kept coming across as an idiot, didn’t he? “Are there other harpies here?”
Perceptor’s smile faltered. “I’m afraid not.” His talons clicked on the edges of the bowl. “And therein lies the truth, Drift. I am selfish. I saved you for my own reasons.”
Drift nibbled on the plum, trying to resist the urge to gobble it down like a savage. “You were lonely.”
“Quite. I left Tyger Pax years ago,” Perceptor said. “And while the humans I’ve befriended are good company, there is nothing quite like the familiarity of one’s own kind. You are the first harpy I’ve seen, and you are surely a sight for sore eyes.”
Drift nibbled on his bottom lip. “It’s been awhile. Since I had a friend,” Drift admitted. He lifted his gaze to Perceptor. “Maybe that makes me selfish, too. Since you look friend-shaped to me.”
Perceptor laughed, and Drift’s core warmed. “I would like that very much.” He freed a hand and rested it on Drift’s arm, giving it a light squeeze. “For however long you choose to stay.”
Drift’s core leapt with delight. “I’d like that,” he said, biting into the plum and failing to not make a mess. “Sorry.”
Perceptor patted him on the arm before he returned to the bowl, plucking out a plum for himself. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, and messily bit into his own fruit, juices dribbling free.
He winked.
Drift grinned.
Maybe crashlanding in the middle of Kaon wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
~
Drift was, in a word, adorable. Perceptor saw in his eyes the same lost and lonely look that had haunted his own for so long, and still did.
But when he smiled, Perceptor felt something within him inexplicably lurch.
He did not dare take Drift far for the tour. Drift was still exhausted, and curious humans could often be over-eager. It didn’t help that Drift startled at every noise. He was especially skittish.
Under Dr. Morgan’s orders, a room was cleared out next to Perceptor’s. It was for Drift’s use. As soon as Perceptor noticed Drift getting tired, he showed Drift the room that could be his, complete with hammock and harpy-approved furniture.
“This is for you however long you wish to stay,” Perceptor said.
Drift stood there, turning in slow circles, his eyes wide as he took in every nook and cranny of the room. It wasn’t much, though Perceptor had asked them to install a hook for Drift’s sword and sheath. The room was also equipped with two very large windows, though neither of them opened.
“All of this? For me?” Drift murmured as he turned in a slow circle. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any valuables to pay for this. Or--”
Perceptor cut him off with a shake of his head. “Here they value knowledge. Would you be willing to speak with them about your flock culture?”
Drift’s feathers shivered. “I don’t know the human language though.” He sounded genuinely morose. “So I don’t even have that much worth.”
There was something in Drift’s tone Perceptor did not like. It was painfully honest, and it made Perceptor angry, made him want to find whoever had convinced him of such a thing, and rake his claws down their face.
“I’ll teach you,” Perceptor offered. “Or translate. Whichever you prefer, I mean. I don’t want to presume. Some harpies are against learning it, I know.”
Drift’s gaze lifted, his eyes brightening. “I’d like to learn,” he said. His feathers fluttered, tail sweeping the floor, like an excited canine. “I mean, if you don’t mind teaching me.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Perceptor lingered in the doorway, his core throbbing a thoughtful beat. “But tomorrow perhaps. You are still in need of rest.”
“I do feel pretty tired.” Drift plopped his rump on the hammock, tarsals digging into the carpet to give it a playful swing. “This is nice.”
Perceptor leaned a hand on the doorframe, rapping his talons against it. “I’m next door if you need anything.”
“I like knowing that,” Drift said, almost offhand, before his face visibly colored, and he plucked at the blanket lining the hammock. “I mean, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Perceptor gestured to the switch near the door. “That is for the overhead lights and the shutters require a simple pull of the cord to open and close them. Rest well.”
Drift nodded. “I will. Thank you.” He smiled, like a youngling who’d been given a gift for the first time.
Perceptor tipped his head in acceptance. “Welcome to Kaon, Drift.”
He stepped out, closing the door behind him, his last glimpse of Drift being a tiny smile on the smol’s face as he flopped down into the hammock with a happy sigh.
What a fortuitous day.
****
a/n: Like Topsy-Turvy, this is complete. I'm just uploading the chapters every Monday. :)
Characters: Drift, Perceptor, Original Character(s)
Universe: Flights of Fancy, Harpyformers
Rating: M
Enticements: Sexual Content, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Love at First Sight
Description: Perceptor’s spent so long among the humans, he’s almost forgotten how much he misses other harpies, until Drift wanders into Kaon, a pretty package of everything Perceptor never knew he wanted.
Learning to hold the smooth, slick glass beakers had been a struggle. The test tubes were even harder. But he had learned.
Perceptor had nimble talons, long and narrow fingers, and shorter feathers around his carpals. He was lucky. All of this made it easier to use the humans’ equipment.
He still had to take great care. He was eternally grateful for Dr. Morgan’s kindness. He would not repay it with another broken item.
Perceptor hovered over the microscope and carefully nudged the slide with the tip of his talon. It made a pleasant tink as it slid into position. Perfect.
Perceptor eased behind the eyepiece. He was so much larger that doing so left a cramp in his neck, but it was worth it. His curiosity couldn’t be ignored or contained. It was the whole reason he’d come to Kaon University in the first place. Dr. Morgan’s invitation had been one he refused to ignore.
One talon rested on each dial. It took a bare nudge to adjust it to his preference. There. Perfect. Now he just needed to--
“Perceptor!”
He startled, scrambling back from the microscope, his knee bumping the edge of the desk. The equipment rattled ominously, and Perceptor hastened to grab it. He steadied the desk, his core thumping with alarm.
He turned his head slowly. One of the undergrads stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, though he had the decency to look apologetic.
“Sorry,” the human said, and blushed. Perceptor did not recognize this one, which meant he was not used to being in Perceptor’s proximity. “I just… um… we need you.”
“Can it not wait?” Perceptor demanded, only to pause and exhale. The child hadn’t meant any harm.
“No. It’s an emergency…?” The boy coughed into his hand, the color in his cheeks deepening to crimson. “There’s another one of you outside the gates, except he’s dead. Or at least, we think he is. We dunno. We didn’t get close enough to look.”
The alarm, slowly ebbing, returned with a vengeance. Perceptor had not seen another harpy since he’d left his aerie over a decade ago. Perhaps this was an overdue coincidence. Or perhaps more sinister circumstances were afoot.
“I see.” Perceptor pretended calm. “Outside the main gate?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll have a look. What color was he?”
The student shuffled his feet impatiently. “I dunno.” He shrugged. “Grey. Brown maybe. He’s dirty.”
Perceptor pressed his lips together. Alone and filthy? Perhaps this was someone in need of sanctuary rather than a prison cell. Only meeting him would tell.
“All right then. Let us go.”
Perceptor had spent so long in the laboratory that a sunny, spring morning had morphed into a fierce, storming afternoon. Upon seeing the deluge, the undergrad had balked, leaving Perceptor to continue on his own.
He could have flown. But the rain was thick and heavy, soaking his featherdown and leaving him feeling drowned. Besides, he was out of practice.
Beyond the main gate, a few humans had gathered. They huddled under an umbrella that was far too small, and essentially useless given the angle of the rainfall. Perceptor recognized none of them, though of course they knew his name. Their greetings were polite, if not cautious.
Some humans still spread the lie that harpies snatched human children, after all. Perceptor didn’t understand it. Apart from the rare Raptor, harpies didn’t consume meat or flesh at all.
A few feet from the students lay a sodden mess of muddy feathers, face down in the well-trod earth. Perceptor approached cautiously, for judging by size alone, this was a smol, though one trained for battle. The worn sheath and hint of a hilt suggested a warrior or soldier, perhaps from Iacon or Tesaurus.
The harpy was a touch on the lean side. Small patches of feathers were missing. A wound on his thigh had been hastily bandaged, or had become unraveled in the storm.
“Hello?”
Not a twitch.
Perceptor flushed, realizing he’d called out in the human language. Very few harpies spoke it. They had no reason to.
Percy switched to his native tongue and tried again. “Excuse me?”
Silence.
He dared crouch by the poor heap, noting that the harpy was not, in fact, dead. He still breathed, though it was shallow. He also raged with fever. Even with the cold wind and rain, Perceptor could feel the heat rising from the stranger.
Perceptor frowned.
The chance this poor smol meant him any harm was very slim. He was in no condition to injure anyone. Perceptor supposed he would take the risk, if only for the sake of his own conscience. He could not leave this harpy to die.
“Perceptor?”
He glanced back at the students huddled under their paltry umbrella. “This harpy lives. I’ll be bringing him back to my room.”
He rose and looked down, considering how best to approach this. They were almost of a size, but the harpy looked thin, perhaps underfed. This would be doable, if not slow, provided the smaller one did not wake and thrash about.
“Do you want help?” one of the females asked.
Perceptor shook his head. “No. In fact, you should keep your distance.” He knelt on the other side of the harpy and worked his hands beneath the limp body, scooping him up into his arms.
He staggered, the unknown harpy unexpectedly heavy. Lucky that he was not so far from home. The stranger did not stir, except to make the quietest of pained noises. Perceptor softened in sympathy. The poor thing. Was he younger than Perceptor thought? Maybe a youngling lost and far from home?
“Are you sure?”
Perceptor nodded, adjusted the harpy’s weight in his grip, and started toward the college. “Yes,” he replied. “If he wakes, he may act out of fear, and a harpy’s talons are not one to take lightly. It could easily rend your flesh from your bones.”
A human squeaked. As one, the three took several steps away.
Perceptor’s burden made another soft, sad noise. He shivered, claws twitching, head turning toward the fluff of Perceptor’s chest.
He was even more certain he’d made the right choice. This young one needed help, and Perceptor was not so far from his roots he could ignore another harpy in need.
Besides, it was getting quite lonely in Kaon. He also knew Dr. Morgan would be very interested to meet a new harpy for her research. Perhaps the stranger could be convinced to stay.
Only time would tell.
Drift woke slowly, surrounded by warmth, and surprised he woke at all. Hadn’t he collapsed outside a human city? He’d pushed himself to make it over the thickest of Kaon’s forest, and bright lights had drawn him forward. There was a moment where he’d realized it was human in origin, nothing to be trifled with, but by then it was too late.
Another frigid gust of drenched wind, and he’d dropped. Exhaustion made it impossible to catch himself. He tumbled head over feet. He didn’t remember hitting the ground.
Now he was warm?
He twitched his head. No heavy weight of chains. Not around his neck, nor around his wrists or ankles. There was bedding beneath him, soft and comforting. The air was filled with the scent of fresh fruit. Nearby, someone hummed quietly. The melody was almost familiar, or maybe that was Drift’s addled brain struggling to make sense.
Drift kept still and forced his eyes open, ever so slowly.
He was indoors, he realized, the roof above him solid and speckled with a variety of colors. He lay in a hammock lined with plush blankets, cradling his broken body. Someone had taken care to wrap his wounds.
Drift turned his head, his eyes widening in surprise.
There was another harpy here. He was a dark crimson, mostly around the torso, and his feathers darkened to black before lightening out to gray then white. Large, definitely bara-class. He sat with his back to Drift, feathers smoothed down.
The song came from him.
Drift fidgeted; the hammock creaked. His mysterious savior stopped singing. He turned to face Drift, his lips curved in a soft smile. He was stunning, Drift realized. His eyes were big and blue, like the ocean, something Drift had only ever seen from afar. But he remembered the glittering waters.
“Oh! You’re awake!” The bara rose to his feet and padded closer. He tilted his head, looking Drift over, his voice pleasant. “How’re you feeling?”
“Warm,” Drift croaked. His throat felt as dry as the badlands. At least that meant the other harpy wouldn’t have to hear the worst of his uncultured accent. “Thank you.”
“We outcasts must look after each other. Though of course, I may be presuming to call you an outcast.” He lowered himself to an empty stool by Drift’s bedside. “I am Perceptor, originally of Tyger Pax.”
“Drift. Iacon, by way of Tesaurus.” He gave his birth name. No need for Perceptor to know of ‘Deadlock’. That monster was left behind in Helex, where he belonged.
“Mmm. A seasoned traveler then.” Perceptor’s gentle smile was soothing. He tilted his head. “I have heard of your flock. Many great warriors are of Tesaurus.”
Yes. And Drift would never be among those stories. He’d left before he could make a name for himself. He would never rise in the ranks. He would never be what his carrier wanted him to be. Carrier had tried, but Drift simply didn’t have the skill.
So he’d left it all behind, keeping only Sire’s gift as the rare item he couldn’t bear to leave.
Drift’s eyes widened, and he bolted upright. “My blade! Where--”
“It is quite safe.” Perceptor gestured to his left.
Drift followed the motion with his eyes. His sheath hung on a rack which itself hung on the wall. It looked like someone had cleaned and polished the sheath even. How kind.
He sagged with relief. “Thank you,” he repeated. He swept a hand over his crest, surprised to find that he was clean. “For helping me, I mean. I should have died out there.”
“Were you exiled?”
“No.” Drift shook his head and offered a rueful grin. “But storming out in a fit of pique wasn’t the best idea either. What about you?”
“I chose to leave as well.” Perceptor’s gaze slid away, his feathers slicking down as his tone turned mournful. “There were things I wanted I could not have.”
Drift had never been to Tyger Pax. He knew nothing of its flock law. But if it was anything like Tesaurus or Iacon, he could understand why Perceptor left. Rules. Regulations. Expectations. They could be heavy weights to keep one grounded.
Drift looked around. This looked like no nest he’d ever seen, not even in Iacon, who had one of the more advanced flocks in all of Cybertron. In fact, if he had to guess…
“You live with the humans?” Drift asked. Alarm filled him all over again. Were they prisoners? Was this just a very nice jail cell?
“I do. This is Kaon University. I came here to study.”
Drift’s feathers twitched. He hunched his shoulders. “Is it safe?” He lowered his voice, glancing toward the door. “Do you need help escaping?”
Perceptor chuckled. “No. I’m quite welcome here.” His eyes lit up. “You are, too. If you wish to be.”
“Oh. I… actually don’t know where I want to be.” Drift ducked his head, his face heating.
He didn’t know where he wanted to go. He only knew he didn’t want to be home. He couldn’t bear to be surrounded by things he couldn’t have, and he certainly couldn’t bear the weight of his carrier’s expectations either. There was only so much sire could do, having lost the challenge. He was expected to bow to Carrier in all things.
Drift’s stomach chose that moment to grumble. Loudly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything more than a handful of hunt rations – dry nuts and berries, without so much as a sip of water to keep it down.
“Sorry.” Embarrassment wove a thick web around his core. Could he throw himself out the window now? Not that it would do any good since he could fly.
Frag. He couldn’t even mope properly.
Perceptor’s eyes widened. “No, it’s my fault. I’m a terrible host.” He hopped to his tarsals, a few feathers floating down in his wake.
Drift snatched them from the air, admiring the red hue of them. So dark. Almost like spilled blood. He tucked the feather under his rump as Perceptor returned.
“Here. Would you like some fruit?” Perceptor urged a thick bowl toward Drift.
Several different types of fruit rolled around together in a colorful array. They smelled perfectly ripe, perfectly sweet, and Drift’s mouth watered. His belly protested emptiness once more.
“Yes, please.” Drift snatched a peach and two plums. Weren’t they out of season? Did they even grow naturally here?
“They are from the university’s gardens,” Perceptor explained as he returned to his chair, still cradling the bowl. “Thanks to them, I eat quite well.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Yes, I am.” Perceptor’s hands rubbed around the bowl as though he were nervous, which was ridiculous. Drift was much smaller than him, and his thigh was all bandaged up. “If you have your strength, perhaps after you eat I can give you a tour.”
Drift licked his lips clean of peach juice. “You’re allowed to walk around?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not a prisoner.”
“Oh.” Drift ducked his head. He kept coming across as an idiot, didn’t he? “Are there other harpies here?”
Perceptor’s smile faltered. “I’m afraid not.” His talons clicked on the edges of the bowl. “And therein lies the truth, Drift. I am selfish. I saved you for my own reasons.”
Drift nibbled on the plum, trying to resist the urge to gobble it down like a savage. “You were lonely.”
“Quite. I left Tyger Pax years ago,” Perceptor said. “And while the humans I’ve befriended are good company, there is nothing quite like the familiarity of one’s own kind. You are the first harpy I’ve seen, and you are surely a sight for sore eyes.”
Drift nibbled on his bottom lip. “It’s been awhile. Since I had a friend,” Drift admitted. He lifted his gaze to Perceptor. “Maybe that makes me selfish, too. Since you look friend-shaped to me.”
Perceptor laughed, and Drift’s core warmed. “I would like that very much.” He freed a hand and rested it on Drift’s arm, giving it a light squeeze. “For however long you choose to stay.”
Drift’s core leapt with delight. “I’d like that,” he said, biting into the plum and failing to not make a mess. “Sorry.”
Perceptor patted him on the arm before he returned to the bowl, plucking out a plum for himself. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, and messily bit into his own fruit, juices dribbling free.
He winked.
Drift grinned.
Maybe crashlanding in the middle of Kaon wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Drift was, in a word, adorable. Perceptor saw in his eyes the same lost and lonely look that had haunted his own for so long, and still did.
But when he smiled, Perceptor felt something within him inexplicably lurch.
He did not dare take Drift far for the tour. Drift was still exhausted, and curious humans could often be over-eager. It didn’t help that Drift startled at every noise. He was especially skittish.
Under Dr. Morgan’s orders, a room was cleared out next to Perceptor’s. It was for Drift’s use. As soon as Perceptor noticed Drift getting tired, he showed Drift the room that could be his, complete with hammock and harpy-approved furniture.
“This is for you however long you wish to stay,” Perceptor said.
Drift stood there, turning in slow circles, his eyes wide as he took in every nook and cranny of the room. It wasn’t much, though Perceptor had asked them to install a hook for Drift’s sword and sheath. The room was also equipped with two very large windows, though neither of them opened.
“All of this? For me?” Drift murmured as he turned in a slow circle. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any valuables to pay for this. Or--”
Perceptor cut him off with a shake of his head. “Here they value knowledge. Would you be willing to speak with them about your flock culture?”
Drift’s feathers shivered. “I don’t know the human language though.” He sounded genuinely morose. “So I don’t even have that much worth.”
There was something in Drift’s tone Perceptor did not like. It was painfully honest, and it made Perceptor angry, made him want to find whoever had convinced him of such a thing, and rake his claws down their face.
“I’ll teach you,” Perceptor offered. “Or translate. Whichever you prefer, I mean. I don’t want to presume. Some harpies are against learning it, I know.”
Drift’s gaze lifted, his eyes brightening. “I’d like to learn,” he said. His feathers fluttered, tail sweeping the floor, like an excited canine. “I mean, if you don’t mind teaching me.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Perceptor lingered in the doorway, his core throbbing a thoughtful beat. “But tomorrow perhaps. You are still in need of rest.”
“I do feel pretty tired.” Drift plopped his rump on the hammock, tarsals digging into the carpet to give it a playful swing. “This is nice.”
Perceptor leaned a hand on the doorframe, rapping his talons against it. “I’m next door if you need anything.”
“I like knowing that,” Drift said, almost offhand, before his face visibly colored, and he plucked at the blanket lining the hammock. “I mean, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Perceptor gestured to the switch near the door. “That is for the overhead lights and the shutters require a simple pull of the cord to open and close them. Rest well.”
Drift nodded. “I will. Thank you.” He smiled, like a youngling who’d been given a gift for the first time.
Perceptor tipped his head in acceptance. “Welcome to Kaon, Drift.”
He stepped out, closing the door behind him, his last glimpse of Drift being a tiny smile on the smol’s face as he flopped down into the hammock with a happy sigh.
What a fortuitous day.
a/n: Like Topsy-Turvy, this is complete. I'm just uploading the chapters every Monday. :)
