Tag: willnotgogently

Attrition looks rather nervous as he knocks, standing stiff and straight waiting for a response. Bee had assured him this mech was different and he wanted to give him a chance, especially since Rung loved him.

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

There had been an unregistered ground bridge opened on the ship, but the signal’s origin was familiar. He took a moment to tidy his office, wiping a few errant smudges from his armor. Rung seemed as if he would hardly mind if he wasn’t immaculate, but Megatron couldn’t help the impulse. It was a strange sensation, but not unwelcome.

Opening the door, the warlord raised an optic ridge at a nervous mech much larger than the one he’d been expecting. The bartender, former Decepticon… Perhaps the holidays had warmed him back up to seeing his former lord without outright cowering.

“Attrition? I can’t recall arranging a meeting with you, but I do have some time. Come.” The warlord turned, arms folded behind his back as he walked back into his quarters. The primary room was large, consisting mainly of a desk and a few shelves, decorated with blankets and other various gifts. Colored rocks, drawings, antique datpads. Leaning against the wall was the Dark Star Saber, glowing gently in the low light. The door closed both of them inside.

“Were you sent here, or do you come of your own free will?”

The tank was rather stiff, standing in typical military readiness from habit. He was doing his best not to avert his gaze, but the items in the room pulled at his curiosity like a sparkling with something particularly shiny. The Dark Star Saber in particular made him want to stop and touch the edge but he couldn’t very well do that, especially when he was dropping in uninvited.

“I’m here on my own Sir. Well Rung had suggested that I talk to you again, but he didn’t order me to. I just thought.. well you’re very important to two of the mecha in my life so uh…” A little awkwardly, he took out a bottle of Tetrahexian high grade. “I thought we could talk? We don’t really know each other and I’d rather avoid any more assumptions, Sir.”

Megatron was glad he’d decided to lock the empty Matrix away. Before now, it had laid on his desk as well.

“Really, now?” The warlord turned to face Attrition again, regarding him with his usual analytic eye. Remembering that this often came across as a glare, Megatron made the conscious effort to ease the tense set of his shoulders. The effort was made simpler with the promise of high grade, relaxing him enough to lean back against the edge of his desk, and extend a servo to offer the tank his chair.

“Very well. Assumptions or not, I understand your misgivings. My reputation does tend to precede me.” Reaching back the top drawer of his desk, Megatron retrieved a pair of rough-hewn glasses for them. “Let me begin then by saying that the war is over. I wouldn’t intend on bringing you in for desertion even if you were of this universe.”

Attrition looks rather nervous as he knocks, standing stiff and straight waiting for a response. Bee had assured him this mech was different and he wanted to give him a chance, especially since Rung loved him.

There had been an unregistered ground bridge opened on the ship, but the signal’s origin was familiar. He took a moment to tidy his office, wiping a few errant smudges from his armor. Rung seemed as if he would hardly mind if he wasn’t immaculate, but Megatron couldn’t help the impulse. It was a strange sensation, but not unwelcome.

Opening the door, the warlord raised an optic ridge at a nervous mech much larger than the one he’d been expecting. The bartender, former Decepticon… Perhaps the holidays had warmed him back up to seeing his former lord without outright cowering.

“Attrition? I can’t recall arranging a meeting with you, but I do have some time. Come.” The warlord turned, arms folded behind his back as he walked back into his quarters. The primary room was large, consisting mainly of a desk and a few shelves, decorated with blankets and other various gifts. Colored rocks, drawings, antique datpads. Leaning against the wall was the Dark Star Saber, glowing gently in the low light. The door closed both of them inside.

“Were you sent here, or do you come of your own free will?”

Hearing from Bee about the large fish tank, Rung’s gift to Megatron is some large crystals to decorate the bottom as well as some music recordings from his own universes Protohex. “I thought perhaps we could dance, if you like. Or just sit quietly to listen to it together.”

The crystals are something he hadn’t thought of, and he subspaces them gratefully for later. 

The dancing is also something he hadn’t thought of. “Hm… I haven’t danced since long before the war. So long as no one will be recording, I could be persuaded to make another attempt.”

Megatron returned to the bar after hours, a datapad in hand. He leaned down, free hand caressing the side of Rung’s helm. His kiss was deep and lingering, field swelling with warmth as if an ember brought to life by Rung’s breath. “I’ve brought a gift for you. A compilation of several recordings of my days in the ring- those I could find with the highest audio quality.”

willnotgogently:

Rung pushed into the kiss happily, squeezing Megatron’s arm to try to hold him closer. Accepting the datapad and the explanation of what was on it, he laughed softly and kissed Megatron again. His field swelled with heat and he nipped at the others lower lip, urging him to follow him to his room. “Can I show my appreciation?”

With a half-lidded gaze, Megatron pings his conjunx, waiting for a return ping before following. Despite their difference in size, Rung is easily able to guide him by the arm to whatever room he sees fit. It didn’t matter, so long as Rung wanted him there. “Wholly unnecessary…” He grinned, cooling fans spinning. “But it is yours to give. Who am I to deny you?”

 the-scrappy-stinger:

willnotgogently:

Rung was born in a place that was considered close to Primus, the Pious Pools were a place of reflection and meditation for acolytes and priests alike.  A spot where travelers could go to seek themselves and find answers that were just out of reach and waiting for them. It helped to make him more aware at times and this was such a time.  A shiver rode up his spinal struts and he peeked his eyes open, taking a vent as he stared at the burning candle.

This didn’t happen often and he had never had the chance before so he hoped that his vocals didn’t break when he did this.  His lips parted and he sat up a little straighter, a hymn passing from him in a way that made the silver paint on his lips shimmer and then spark when he put all of himself into the words  

(Bee glances over his shoulder to check- yep his optics are open- and puts his gaze right on his knees. The most he can manage is a light hum along with the tune. Not that he knows it, of course, but he can kind of predict where the notes might fall and just quiet himself when he’s wrong.)

(But he doesn’t feel anything. Megatron’s hand went to his face, and Rung was singing, and he wasn’t…) 

(Maybe this just wasn’t his Prime. He didn’t have the personal connections that Megatron and Rung did, so maybe he just wouldn’t have a big moving moment at the altar like they did. Quietly adjusting his legs and puffing out a breath, Bee checks on Attrition and holds his tongue until the other start to stir.) 

The song wasn’t one he knew, but its tones were familiar and Rung’s gentle voice carried in the relative silence. Megatron turned to watch him sing, the paint on his bespectacled face shimmering in the light. He really was beautiful. There was beauty in his practice too; though Megatron wasn’t inspired to match it, he could appreciate how devoted Rung was to maintaining his traditions, how he shared them without impressing them on others. So unlike the zealots he remembered.

Bumblebee was still, but uneasy, and then there was Attrition. The tank seemed less nervous than the first time they had met, likely prepared this time for his presence. He gave a nod to the both of them, forgetting the telltale discoloration of his tainted optics. 

As Rung finished his song, Megatron laid his servo across the orange mech’s back. “A musician on top of it all! Rung, you are ever full of surprises.” He couldn’t wait to uncover more. “Now that we’ve paid our respects, what does the rest of the evening entail?”

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron replied to your post:
Heyheyheyhey Rung rung- Do you know any good ways…

…Something you’ve done, Rung?

There’s a smirk curling the edges of his lips and he nods down the hallway to where his room is located.  “Everyone likes to watch something… don’t you?”

His optics darken by a shade as he smiles too. “Mm. I may also be in possession of a few recordings you may not have heard that you would enjoy. …Might that interest you at all?”

 the-scrappy-stinger:

willnotgogently:

Attrition knelt beside Bee, taking care not to disturb the smaller bot as everyone started their prayers. His optics popped open wide when Rung started. Rather than the soft tones he had used when speaking a prayer to Prima, the orange bot had switched from Neo Cybex to Primal Vernacular and his voice sounded deeper and dangerous.

“You who walked before us, allow us to lean on your strength in trying times.” Rung started, his small engine reverberating behind his words.

(Deep voices saying powerful messages. Bee jolts at Rung’s deeper tone, meeting optics with Attrition and confirming it wasn’t just him. What a place… what a holiday. He stiffens his back along with Megatron’s. He has prayers to say.)

(But what do you say to a demigod? How do you send fond wishes to a Prime? Even a fallen one. How do you wish them the best, but in a fitting way? He feels so… casual. And in a bad sort of way.)

(The silence gnaws at his back. He cycles his vocalizer quietly, avoiding a loud cough, and speaks.) 

A-and wherever you go… know that there’s a place for you, here, with us. 

(His throat goes dry.) W-we’ll welcome you.

The twinge didn’t go away. It intensified, to the point that Megatron began to recognize it as something different. His optics snapped open, a tint of violet beginning to show through the red filters. Not here, not now! The warlord covered his face with a servo, trying to force Unicron’s influence back.

But rather than a booming voice, or crushing strength attempting to overtake him from within, it more felt a foreign emotion. An Other, bittersweet and melancholy, tinged with sparkfelt gratitude. 

When he pulled his servo away, the purple glow had saturated his gaze. The warlord looked between the three others before closing his optics again to hide them, field drawing in close to his frame. “…Ah… it would seem he stirs things within me even now.” Megatron would reach out to the strange feeling no more, but he would sit in respectful silence if there were more rituals to be had.

the-scrappy-stinger:

willnotgogently:

Rung gently leaned into the contact, his optics soft with awe as he watched his two loved ones moving to light the candle.  Attrition was nearby but he preferred to watch the ceremony of it in silence because he wasn’t sure of the words to say or how to light the candles himself.  The big tank inched closer to Bee and smiled to him warmly.

“For him, and to him.” Rung spoke softly, his field tingling with compassion for The Fallen.  “He is a great mech and what happened doesn’t diminish him.  He is still out there and he should know that he has a home waiting for him if he can pull away from Unicron’s control.”

I can relate to that… I think. (The candle lit, the altar just that much brighter, Bee keeps a hand on Megatron’s to keep himself steady. He watches it burn steady, worried it will snuff or explode or any number of things… and it doesn’t. He breathes a little sigh of relief.) 

(Attrition appears in the corner of his vision, and Bee waves to him with a grin.) A.T.! You’re gonna sit with us, right? (His voice lowers respectfully.) Guess it’s time to start.

(Praying in front of an altar… it feels odd, to him, but he sits on his knees and cycles his systems down, the smallest in a room full of much bigger mechs, and concentrates on the quiet.) 

The explanation caused Megatron’s calm demeanor to falter. Rung spoke with such empathy for the Prime of his namesake… Perhaps it was different between universes, but he hadn’t know that Megatronus had also fallen to Unicron’s call. It was all too apt, and burned at his edges. His claws dug into where they rested on his legs, and he glared down at the floor. Rung’s field, full of sympathetic warmth, and Bumblebee’s servo atop his kept him from standing and leaving.

Megatron squeezed his optics shut, bowing his helm. Ever since he’d first heard stories of the Primes in his youth, he’d felt an understanding with the Fallen. He’d done something terrible, but the whole thing had been forced upon him, cruelly tricked into turning against his fellows by Liege Maximo. Ill-fated from creation by his association with Unicron. Self-exiled for realizing his grave mistake. As a new gladiator, he’d used the name as a symbol for a class who had been tossed aside but refused to be forgotten, taken inspiration from the Fallen Hero and now… now he felt as if he’d taken far more than just a name.

There was a twinge in his chest as his spark began to spin too fast in its casing. He had to calm down. This was meant to be a solemn occasion, a celebration, not a place to dwell on his own life. Straightening his back, Megatron focused on cooling his core temperature first, before allowing his thoughts to return to the Fallen Prime. What might be a good sentiment to hear… Laying a servo over his spark, the warlord rumbled quietly.

“May you find peace, both in your travels, and when you come to rest.”