One moment Esmeryl is prepping for a trip off the R2 to kill slavers, the next thing she knows is she falling through the sky from a crackling portal. Tumbling in freefall above a - city?
She doesn't think. In the blink of an optic, she's in her alt, wings spread as she struggles to slow her descent. But slow it does, and soon the Empress is soaring over an unfamiliar skyline as she takes stoke of everything.
This isn't the R2 for one, and the city looked damaged. Like the aftermath of a fight between Decepticons and Autobots, but not. She doesn't know what the pink substance is, but given how widespread it is... perhaps invasion?
She glides lower, spotting the - humans? That can't be. Earth had been long gone in the time of the R2. Yet-
She needs to land, kick her disguise tech into gear, and then find out as much information as she can- Esmeryl banks right as she spies a familiar figure. Donatello. Donnie-
No. Not the one she knows. Her son had black stone arms. Her son was almost never without one of his battle shells.
She needs to land, and it's with grace and light - too light- steps she does, trotting forward a few steeps before coming to a stop. She's smaller now. Or this Donatello is bigger. Her size. No, she's the one who's shrunk.
Ears flick curiously as she tilts her head as she regards Donnie; curious yet reserved.
That sure is a black-and-grey red-eyed mechanical griffon-dragon maybe about 6ft at the head sitting.
no subject
She doesn't think. In the blink of an optic, she's in her alt, wings spread as she struggles to slow her descent. But slow it does, and soon the Empress is soaring over an unfamiliar skyline as she takes stoke of everything.
This isn't the R2 for one, and the city looked damaged. Like the aftermath of a fight between Decepticons and Autobots, but not. She doesn't know what the pink substance is, but given how widespread it is... perhaps invasion?
She glides lower, spotting the - humans? That can't be. Earth had been long gone in the time of the R2. Yet-
She needs to land, kick her disguise tech into gear, and then find out as much information as she can- Esmeryl banks right as she spies a familiar figure. Donatello. Donnie-
No. Not the one she knows. Her son had black stone arms. Her son was almost never without one of his battle shells.
She needs to land, and it's with grace and light - too light- steps she does, trotting forward a few steeps before coming to a stop. She's smaller now. Or this Donatello is bigger. Her size. No, she's the one who's shrunk.
Ears flick curiously as she tilts her head as she regards Donnie; curious yet reserved.
That sure is a black-and-grey red-eyed mechanical griffon-dragon maybe about 6ft at the head sitting.