red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

The Start of Something Interesting...

The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time. The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on. The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased. He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity. It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors. Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

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Venting a pleased sigh, Mirage settled in, the calm and peace of his own mediation settling over him easily by virtue of long practice.

Cliffjumper's little field waver prompted a curious shiver of Mirage's own field, but he was slow to respond, already fallen to calm repose.

Exvent.

Fuel cycle.

Energon flow.

Spark beat.

Mirage's lips twitched upward minutely, field spectrum shifting with a mild upsurge of power. If Cliffjumper reacted to that...

Cliffjumper, trying to concentrate and maybe, vaguely get to some sort of attempt at meditation again had basically managed to get to the point where he could sit still and start to focus on his frame and what it was doing again when the little pulse came.

It didn't startle him.

What it did do, was to seemingly make the sound of his spark flowing through his frame very loud, and accentuate the glowing bands of charge of his spark throughout his chassis, and also something bright to the left (Mirage, he realised) it'd be so easy to just---

Shaking his helm sharply, nearly swaying back in his hurry to not get caught in that creepy state he'd ended up in during the ritual, Cliffjumper grimaced and opened his mouth...

But then he closed it again, glancing over at Mirage.

Had he done that, or had that little swell come from elsewhere? Scowling at the altar in front of him, Cliffjumper wondered grumpily if it was just the room.

Mirage didn't even have to look to sense Cliffjumper's motions, physical and otherwise. He felt him pull away, spiritual field presence fading down and back. That... definitely counted as 'noticing', even if Cliffjumper did relatively little about it.

Mirage wasn't sure if he should be amused or something else entirely.

"Hmm. Jumpy?"

He wasn't even sure if the minibot knew what he was reacting to...

Frowning at Mirage, Cliffjumper felt as if he knew more than he was saying.

"Yeah, I guess..." pausing, almost about to leave it at that, Cliffjumper's optics narrowed, "did you do somethin'?"

Because otherwise why would he ask? And Mirage was the priest here, fully capable of manipulating energy and all that stupid slag, so it could just as well have been Mirage as it could have been the room or altar or whatever.

So very jumpy. And still paranoid. But right, for once.

"Maybe."

Mirage calmly peered over with one lit optic.

"More like...sensed something. Which you sensed in turn."

"What the slag do ya even mean maybe---" the initial frustrated outburst, accusing as it was because Cliffjumper was Cliffjumper, got cut off as Mirage continued and now he was just confused.

Again.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" scowling, Cliffjumper didn't even think about the fact that he rubbed his helm around one of his horns when Mirage mentioned he'd 'sensed' something in turn.

Mirage was absolutely slagging impossible when it came to this stupid stuff that even vaguely probably had something to do with him being a priest. It was utterly infuriating.

Mirage sighed. The minibot was the most suspicious mech.

"My field shifted. In a way you should not have been able to sense."

He paused, dim optic rising up to the nubby little horns Cliffjumper was inadvertently drawing his attention toward.

"Even with such a...obvious sensor-suite."

"It was?" staring, Cliffjumper frowned. He was pretty sure he hadn't picked up that... unless that was what he'd almost picked up on just now.

"Knew I should've upped the sensitivity on the horns," Cliffjumper muttered and gave a little glare at Mirage, before he just frowned again, "what did you do the... thing, before too?"

Gesturing with a hand in the air, Cliffjumper shifted in his seat.

"The thing that almost made all the light from ours sparks visible again?"

Even if that had a proper term, Cliffjumper would, probably, not have used it. Far too annoyed and confused to concern himself with proper phrasings at the moment.

"It did."

Mirage met the short glare with a unyielding stare of his own, unperturbed. He wasn't going to apologize. He was, however, frowning at the realization that Cliffjumper's hidden talents went far more deep than he had originally supposed.

"...Yes. Also something most are not able to sense without training."

He sighed, repose finally cracking enough for him to raise a hand to his brow. What a mess. Cybertron almost completely without priests or those with talent - and the most gifted one he finds wants nothing to do with it.

"Yeah, well, already knew that since that's basically what ya said after the trance thing happened," Cliffjumper said with a roll of his optics, slight waspish annoyance bleeding through.

Mostly because it wasn't like he wanted it - but he was also annoyed Mirage wasn't going to teach him anything simply because he didn't want to become a priest.

It wasn't as if the rules mattered anymore, now was it?!

"Still," Mirage huffed, both optics coming fully back online at last. A huffy Cliffjumper made for a poor mediation partner.

"This just adds to the list."

And what a list. Cliffjumper would have made an excellent priest - and would have been enjoyable to teach, if he were not so dead-set against using the talents for what they were intended.

Cliffjumper would probably argue he made a bad meditation partner no matter what, even if he'd technically managed reasonably up until now.

"It's a stupid list," Cliffjumper muttered, optics narrow and dim and his tone sullen as he crossed his arms over his chestplates and looked away. He just didn't understand why the slagging pit Mirage had to insist on keeping to the rules!

... But then, Mirage had always sort of been like that. Not really the rules in general, but wishing he had his life back, blah blah blah, like none of the rest of them didn't!

Cliffjumper's infatuation often warred with his annoyance regarding Mirage, but his negative opinions of the mech never managed to stomp out the crush. In fact, that crush had managed to bloom despite what he otherwise thought.

"But... uh," glancing back at Mirage and then away again, Cliffjumper squirmed in his seat, scowling, "ya know, er. Thank you..." he almost blushed then and huffed, scowl briefly deepening, "for showin' me this."

Even if he'd probably not use it - he wasn't sure when he'd have use of it at all, but hey. Mirage had taken the time to tell him and try to teach him instead of just shooing him out after his stuttered apology, and Cliffjumper thought he should at least try to thank him.

Mirage snorted, eyeing Cliffjumper's vanishing stubborn set with something akin to amused disbelief.

"It's a list that would have made you an excellent trainee on Cybertron," he admitted, helm tilting at the minibot's blush. He managed a small smile.

"You are quite welcome. I hope it helps. I would do more...but I did take my vows. I've already pushed the boundaries of them as it is."

"In theory maybe," Cliffjumper said with a roll of his optics, which really got to be an expression of his opinion on Mirage clinging to his wovs without saying anything about that directly, "'cause I sure as slag wouldn't have many a good one in practice."

With a huff, Cliffjumper stood up, stretching to settle cables back where they should be and realign joints. He might have stayed to try to meditate for longer if that thing and then their little argument-discussion hadn't happened, but now he just felt annoyed (not scared, no) and restless.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't see why it slaggin' matters since there ain't any more religious orders, but fine, whatever. I guess it did help a little... kinda?"

The uncertainty at the end was more from Cliffjumper feeling uncertain what he thought of the result thanks to almost getting caught seeing the lights again, not from Mirage's effort.

"I'll let ya do whatever you were gonna do. Don't think I can sit still right now," Cliffjumper said with a huff and a quick glance away, suddenly embarrassed about it.

"I exist. Therefore my order still exists." Mirage grumbled, scowling at the pointed reminder that most of his fellow priests were lost or straight up dead.

"And it matters because vows are vows, and I took them. The only person of a high enough authority to grant me leave from them would be Prime himself."

He flicked a hand, motioning Cliffjumper toward the door.

"I am glad it helped. But yes, if you are firmly unsettled, it may be best that you go."

Before they started grating on each other any further.

Squinting as Mirage insisted his order still existed since he did, Cliffjumper engaged his vocaliser... and then clicked it off again because what the frag was he supposed to say to that? It was true and...

Well. Maybe he couldn't begrudge Mirage that. Or at least not much. He was still annoyed.

"And he ain't gonna do it," Cliffjumper muttered with a shake of his helm, though it was just a comment without any anger in it. Prime wouldn't do something like that unless lives were on the line, and if this had really been about Cliffjumper's safety, Cliffjumper vaguely hoped (thought) Mirage would have done it in some way.

He was even... sort of... helping right now, after all, even if Cliffjumper probably wasn't that good at picking up what Mirage was trying to teach in this way.

"Uh, yeah... Good luck..?" trailing off and feeling embarrassed again because he just wasn't sure that's what he was supposed to say, Cliffjumper turned around and walked out.

Despite everything, maybe that hadn't been... so bad.

"I wouldn't know. I've never requested it," Mirage admitted slowly, eyeing Cliffjumper as he headed toward the door. He gave the red mech a nod.

"Thank you. ...Practice if you can, hmm?"

Lips twitching at the corners, Mirage let his optics fall back offline and retook his own stance, for all appearances falling back into meditation after only a few moments.

It was a remarkably calm few weeks after that, and Cliffjumper did try once or twice to meditate, but he could never quite get it right. Apparently sitting next to Mirage had both helped the process and hindered him personally, considering his... feelings, for the mech.

But as the days passed, Cliffjumper (and quite a few others) got more and more twitchy, since why weren't the Decepticons doing anything?!

The first reports of a strange, but clearly cybertronian ship being noted as having spacebridged into the solar system on the dark side of the moon got everybody on high alert, and Cliffjumper had hissed to Bumblebee that he knew it...

And then a shuttle had approached their crashsite in full view and formally requesting landing permission. Considering the fact that another shuttle had been noted to fly off towards the Nemesis' crash site in the Atlantic, Cliffjumper was of the opinion it was incredibly fragging dumb to trust whoever they were.

It must be a trap!

Decepticon spies, whatever!

The mechs - because they were Cybertronians, that stepped out of the shuttle and were welcomed by Prime and the command looked... odd, Cliffjumper thought where he stood with Bumblebee, Beachcomber and Windcharger among the others gathered for the landing - both from curiosity and readiness to fight if necessary.

It took a moment to realise that it was because they looked... soft.

Unworn.

They hadn't spent however long in battle, that was it, and it grated for some reason he couldn't put his finger on.

"This is a trap," Cliffjumper muttered as he and the others wandered off to get some energon while the strange cybertronians retreated with Prime and command elsewhere.

Bee just rolled his optics and patted his shoulder.

As far as surprise diplomatic meetings went, this one had gone surprisingly well.

It had been a long, long time since Optimus Prime had the chance to try his hand at the traditional Primancy roles, and welcoming surprise neutrals into their midst had quickly put them to the test. The command staff was scurrying and the rumors already flying before Optimus escorted them to the biggest briefing room they had.

Along with the Prime, Magnus, Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz, Prowl, and Mirage had gathered on the opposite side of the huge meeting table. Technically, Mirage was not originally intending on slipping in with the upper ranking commanders, but having been engaged by one of the finely-gilded diplomats in conversation, he had been invited to stay.

Prime's private comm making it an request (and Jazz's, making it an order) had ensured his inclusion.

The diplomatic envoy from Paradron had been pleasant enough, if professionally distant - and somewhat cool. Even they, on their forgotten colony world, had heard of the unending war between Autobot and Decepticon. It was wise for them to be wary, even if it made the Prime's spark twinge with shame.

"-but the ongoing conflict is not why we have come." The envoy's leader finished, her hands out wide. For all that the Paradrons obviously lacked in the weaponry department, she was an enthralling speaker.

"To reconnect with our lost brethren and learn the state of...homeworld affairs is our humble goal. Our worlds have been disconnected for too long." It was only a sight pause, but it had been telling. Wise of the noncombatants to be worried, but the Prime would be more worried about the other ship last detected heading toward Decepticon territory.

"I agree," rumbled Optimus, to the varied, softer sounds of accent or muted doubt from his command staff. "It would be a pleasure to reconnect and regain bonds with other Cybertronians." He gave them a pleased bow of the helm, and was relieved to see the gesture returned in kind.

"What sort of reconnectin' do you have in mind?" Jazz asked. His smile was brilliant and friendly enough, but Optimus could see the glitter of consideration in his Special Ops commander's visor.

The smile that met Jazz was nothing but pleasant and open, but by the slight tension at the corner of her optics, she was obviously not naïve. Not necessarily plotting anything either, however.

"It would be a great pleasure to be able to host an envoy of yours on Paradron, Prime, and for us to leave one of our entourage here, to properly exchange information..." there was a pause as she tilted her helm, her optics wide, glow pale but strong, "and, perhaps, depending on how things... develop, to form a stronger basis of familiarity."

They had heard of the war, and while they were wary, yes, they weren't stupid. They wouldn't demand such a potential "sacrifice" without offering up something of their own.

The discussions prior had been far more hesitant to give the same "assurance" to the Decepticons, but in the end the decision had been to treat them alike, even if there were clear pointers that such an exchange might not go the same way with both of the factions.

The mech who'd offered to remain during the visit with the Decepticons was aware of it, and had some precautions taken.

"A reasonable exchange," Prowl commented, fingers steepled in front of him on the table. Ratchet and Ironhide exchanged a glance. Even with the polite tone, it was obvious to those that actually knew the third in command, that he was considering all the variables.

"I agree," said Optimus. "We have a number of mechs schooled in cultural exchange that had yet to be able to practice their skills in some time, aside from assisting with the sentients of Earth."

He gestured out toward the nearest doors, indicating the planet outside.

"I am certain we could gather any number of willing volunteers for such an auspicious envoy."

"Fine and suitable individuals all, I'm sure," and she sounded like she meant it, sincerely and absolutely, but the envoy leaned forward slightly, her optics brightening just a touch while her voice picked up faintly in energy.

"But, if you would allow us to be so bold, we wouldn't just be delighted, but deeply honoured to be able to host a Flame of Cybertron on Paradron. The chance for not just political and cultural, but religious exchange and enrichening... it would be a gift."

She did not look at Mirage as she spoke, but it was also clear she didn't mind them realising how much she... they wanted this. All others in the entourage nodded as well, even making a few quiet noises of assent, and they, unlike their chosen speaker, glanced to Mirage with not just smiles, but clear respect.

Optimus and Mirage both reset their optics in surprise, while Prowl and Jazz exchanged pertinent glances; someone had apparently guessed where the request was headed as soon as Mirage had been included in the group.

"And how exactly, do ya figure we have onna' those-?" Ironhide started, blustering with alarming swiftness.

"Peace, Ironhide," Mirage said calmly, waving a hand and cutting in before Optimus could lay into his bodyguard. He was as surprised as anyone, given that he had not said anything significant enough to imply his true status to the envoy. But anyone with enough teachings could read the still-fresh glyphs on his frame - and the gild-work on the Paradron's hinted that they were. He pinged the Prime to that very point.

"There is no need to be protective. My recent difficulties are no reason to lessen a respectful request from our guests."

Ironhide sputtered at the implication, but wisely fell silent; he and Mirage never had gotten along very well. Mirage would have preferred to not both confirm his identity and bring up his recent captivity at once - but smoothing over Ironhide's openly suspicious blunder with protectiveness instead would likely go much more favorably.

"Agreed. Please do forgive him - while your request is entirely reasonable, it is as much surprising as it is startling. Have you no Flames of your own?" Optimus asked, blisteringly polite.

The speaker faced Ironhide's brief outburst with blank, courteous silence, though a few of the others exchanged glanced - one of them even seemed to bristle for some reason.

"No harm done," she said with a wave of her hand and a shrug, and then outright chuckled.

"Primus forfend, of course we do!" amusement glittering in her words, she nonetheless reigned it in when she continued, gesturing to herself and the mech beside her, as well as one of her entourage that was standing behind her.

Her whole entourage had briefly sketched a three-point gesture between the fronts of their helms, the metal in front of their spark chambers and then their mouths while the envoy had uttered the deity's name.

"I, myself, am First Spark of Altrahex, my sparkmate is an attendant of the High Altar in the capital, and Fleetfoot here is an initiate soon to be inducted," the envoy said with a small, if noticeably amused, smile, before she sobered up again.

"We might not have the Prime gracing our beloved home, but the Flames have kept the light of Primus well lit over Paradron. Which is why we would be greatly honoured to have one of Cybertron itself to grace us with his presence."

Mirage's expression brightened, the mech instantly perking up sharply enough that his chair scraped the floor.

He was not the last of a dead order.

(Prowl and Jazz instantly exchanged another concerned look - if the cons had just been handed a priest after losing Mirage...)

"You are made known and welcomed here First Spark; Attendant of the High Altar; Initiate. It has been far too long since other Priests of Cybertron have made themselves known to us."

He gave as much of a formal bow as he could manage from his seat, gestures laced with ritual and esoteric meaning.

"Of course, I have been remiss in introductions. I am Mirage; High Priest of the Matrix Flame, Highest Seat of Iacon, First of the Reigning Primacy."

Mirage wasn't one to boast, but meeting a diplomatic priest from a colony world certainly earned a full recitation of his highest ranks and titles. It made his lips twitch to hear Ironhide and -surprisingly- Magnus sputter at the 'little' revelation.

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Page 25 of 42

The Start of Something Interesting...

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