TheWanderer
"Shift your stance. You must balance your weight."
The sky is still grey. Colors, the faintest flickers, are beginning to surface near the horizon, racing along the clouded edge and blazoning the arrival of the sun.
"Lower your center of gravity, but don't let it dip. It's important to be stable when channeling the light, no matter where you are or what you're doing."
Ikora's hands are loosely folded behind her back as Fiona readjusts her hips. Her foot pivots about the axis of her heel and her boots squeak lightly across the enameled floor.
"Without balance you have no peace. Without peace you cannot understand the intricacies of the Light, and you will fail when you are needed most."
Her eyes are closed. All other sounds but for her mentor's voice have drained away, leaving a moving, breathing silence.
"Do you feel it?"
Beneath her feet the earth is humming. It beckons forth the light, the light that is vibrating in every pore of her being, the light that is spilling over the edges of her consciousness, the light that is dripping from her soaked soul and singing up from the wells of her being.
Her lips part, and she breathes in a thin breath.
"Yes," she whispers. "I feel it."
"I wouldn't go for it, Prime," he rumbled, eyeing the document. "This is too sudden. Surely this can't be for good ends."
"I know, Skyfire, I know," the leader sighed. He brought a hand to the crest of his helm, digits dipping into the light dent decorating the metal with an absent movement. "The humans can be trusted only so far. We have yet to determine how deeply Megatron's influence runs."
With a deep silence, they stared at the formal document, fear hanging heavy on their shoulders.
The book snapped shut.
With a quiet sigh the librarian lifted the board, slipping through the entryway and lowering it gently as she crossed to the other side. From across the main room the student was packing his things, papers previously dropped to the floor being reorganized and pens being slipped into their pockets. She reached his table just as he slung the backpack's straps over his shoulders, and with silent gratitude he passed her the worn textbook.
"I'll see you tomorrow evening," she called after him as she headed for her own packed bag.
A nod was her answer as the door swung shut behind him.
"A concert?"
She stopped.
"Yes, a concert, duh? You didn't know we were going to see a band play?"
"No, I didn't, I--I'm not in the loop very well."
She laughed, a confused, obligatory sort of sound. "I'm not...sure how you could have missed that, it was...it was all over every social group we have."
An anguished chill tingled up my spine. "I...I'm not...in any of those."
She fell silent.
/clang/
Solidity.
/clang/
Strength.
/clang/
Resistance.
/clang/
All these were symbolized by the iron hammer that was striking the iron blade. The black of its impurity was dark and true, and as he lifted the blade it glinted dully in the flickering light of the furnace.
The tongs gripped it firmly, and he dipped it into the bucket of water to his left. Steam rose in plumes as the familiar hissing echoed from its depths.
In a few days, the blade would be mounted onto the crest that adorned the back wall behind the throne, just as black and impure as it was now. Their faction would fall, but it would not be this time.
Having been on earth for some time--nearing two decades now--it was easy to see that despite his best efforts, he had grown on the planet. It was, oddly enough, significantly larger than his homeworld; yet its inhabitants were much, much smaller and most delicate than any of his kind. It was an interesting fact and he found himself more interested by it than offended.
The Ark was still embedded deep into the volcano, having never budged since its crash landing millennia ago. It still served as the faithful Autobot headquarters, and it still kept them safe from their enemies as it had all those years ago.
These humans, too, were a marvel. Their culture was bizarre, and their customs odd, but in a way not so unlike their own. The way this planet teemed with organic life was both a blessing and a curse.
The sunsets, at least, were beautiful.
Mirage noted this as he leaned easily against the golden exterior of the Ark, backstruts protesting from the day's earlier Decepticon encounter. For all its faults, this planet had become like a home to him and his fellow crew.
He decided he was okay with that.
"What...what is this?"
"It's a car wash. It'll get you all squeaky clean."
"I do not wish to squeak."
"It's an expression."
"It does not make much sense."
"It's...just a--"
"Wait, what are those?"
"What-"
"They are approaching quickly. Should I be concerned?"
"No, those are just--"
"Why are they hitting me repeatedly with some form of solution, I am not--"
"Prowl, those are just the--"
"I do not find this enjoyable."
"Prowl, relax, it's just soap on the--"
The Autobot jolted as the undercarriage cleaner activated, and Spike's head hit the roof with a dull thump.
"That is...most rude."
Spike didn't respond this time, clutching his head and groaning softly to himself. Why he and Carly kept insisting on taking the Autobots to experience various car-related places on earth, he had no idea.
"HEY SUNNY!"
He jumped, the datapad in his hands nearly slipping as the cube resting on the small table beside him quivered with the motion. With one hand he threw up his shades and with the other he steadied himself(and the datapad) on the chair, peering at his brother in distaste.
"What the pit, Sideswipe?"
With a broad grin, the red Lamborghini struck a pose from the top of the soap-covered hill. "Watch this!"
He took a few steps back, then propelled himself forward at top speed and leaped off the hill's crest, letting out a cry of glee as he landed harshly on his chestplate and began a mad slide down the hill. Trailbreaker, who was busy helping scrub off the excess oil from the tanker truck's crash, snapped his helm upward in time to be bowled over by the laughing mech, and his own yell of surprise and indignation echoed from across the field.
They landed with a loud crash on the asphalt at the bottom of the hill, and Sideswipe's laughter was cut off with a clank of metal punching metal as indiscernible angry speech left Trailbreaker's mouth.
With a despairing sigh, Sunstreaker scowled, replacing his shades and reopening the files on his datapad.
What an idiot his brother was.
"Okay, so you're trying to tell me that this is worth five dollars, right?"
He nodded, an uncomfortable prickling beginning at the back of his neck.
"If this is worth five dollars, then why are you carrying five hundred dollars on your person?"
He shifted, glancing between the two officers. If was going to get out of this, he had to be quick.
"I--/what/?"
Her hands flew to cover her mouth as she realized how her words sounded. Stumbling over herself to explain, she sputtered, "No, no, n--I--that's not--okay, that sounded really bad, but I--it--"
He turned stiffly, quickly hiding the stunned expression that crossed his face.
"I PROMISE all I wanted was to ask you how your day went!"
load more entries