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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"Everybody don't slaggin' think of all possible things they can do before actin', ya know," Cliffjumper snarled, aware but not caring such an argument could be used against him - sometimes acting immediately was the right thing to do, after all.

Then he pushed past Mirage and stomped up to Tracks, glaring up at the taller mech.

"And maybe I would have, but ya know what? I don't care!" It wasn't exactly true, because he wasn't feeling very proud over having disrupted a rite. He wasn't religious enough to ever have gone to a temple prior to the war, but still.

With that, Cliffjumper dashed for the door, intent on just... apologising at some other point and not when he was angry (and maybe upset) and almost ran into the wall of metal that suddenly just seemed to appear in the doorway.

The only reason he didn't was because Ratchet caught him at the shoulders.

"I care about checking every single blasted glitch in this room over before they leave, however. So back in with you!" Letting go of Cliffjumper's shoulders, Ratchet shooed at him.

Cliffjumper, engine sputtering, bristled.

"I don't--- don't need repairs! This ain't anyth---" The sharp wave at the cracked windshield and very obvious dent beneath it and words both petered off at Ratchet's stare, and he turned around and dropped down by the wall - and had to hold in a pained grunt as he did so. At least Ratchet hadn't yanked him around, just stopped him from crashing into him.

"I think I'll be the judge of that, and Mirage..." Optics narrowing at the mech while Ratchet went for Tracks first and none too gently made him sit down on the edge of the berth the two nobles had been on previously, he shook his hand at him. "Didn't I tell you to ping me before you attempted something like this? And sit down for the love of Primus!"

Priest of Primus or not, these were delicate procedures and Ratchet knew even the most experienced clergy had their own temple-medics (usually priests as well) nearby. The fierce lines on Ratchet's face easily telegraphed what he thought about having been called after things hadn't just gone bad (for whatever reason) but after they'd even started the rite.

Edited 2013-11-26 11:42 (UTC)

Mirage couldn't hide the smile when the minibot's attempt to flounce on out was abruptly halted by the surprisingly strudy frame of their chief medic.

Tracks didn't even try, snickering despite the wince the sound earned for abusing damaged faceplates.

Totally worth it.

"Hello Ratchet," Mirage greeted the medic blandly, unsurprised by the mech's arrival as he silently commed him the moment Tracks had been injured. His expression twisted at the reprimand, of course, and he sighed in exasperation.

"I have been doing this for thousands of vorns, Ratchet. I know how it is supposed to go."

Cliffjumper made a noise like a broken tea kettle humans used and made a rude gesture at Tracks behind Ratchet's back (not that the noise was particularly polite either).

"And I happen to know that temple's had medics on hand for procedures and rites like this, so whether you know how it's supposed to go or not, it's about safety! And you, be quiet." Ratchet snapped, first at Mirage and then at Tracks, Cliffjumper mostly ignoring the by-play.

What he wanted to do was to go and hide somewhere.

"I can walk and if ya really have to check me over, I can go wait in the med bay---"

"You stay right where you are, Cliffjumper." Ratchet didn't even bother to turn around to wave his hand - and the tool in it - at him, just briefly lifted it away from Tracks' knee joint. "It might be superficial, but that doesn't mean it didn't effect something."

Muttering, Cliffjumper slumped down in his seat again and glared at the ground. He hated this and he just wanted everything to just go away but ignoring it wouldn't really solve anything.

Glancing up to sneak a narrow stare at Mirage, Cliffjumper pressed his lips together. Mirage would probably not listen, or, worse just toss it back in his faceplate or something considering what had happened so far, but at least he'd done it then...

::... Mirage.:: It still took a great long moment before he so much as opened the channel, and yet some more time before he pinged the mech.

"Oh yes, because I might suddenly bleed out."

Mirage huffed sarcastically, but he made no move to escape. Vexed and bristling he may have been, but he wasn't stupid enough to try and escape the medic.

"Ah, but have you served as a medic in one before? Because unless you feel like sitting through your own ceremony to properly blessed and cleared to be in here during the Rite, you will not be invited inside during."

Mirage raised a challenging brow at Ratchet, silently daring him to try and order him otherwise. Prime would surely overrule it.

His tires twitched at Cliffjumper's comm, and he only spared the minibot a brief, irritated glance.

::What now?::

"I don't need to be in the room to be at hand far quicker after it's over, than I am when I'm on the opposite end of the ship and completely unaware what you're engaging in." Ratchet turned his helm to give Mirage a sharp look and a raised upper ridge himself, thoughroughly unimpressed.

Cliffjumper didn't even see Mirage's brief glance, staring narrowly at the wall that had the small altar and unconciously poking at the dent in his chestplating.

::Uh... I just---:: Biting his lower lip, Cliffjumper frowned very hard at the altar, following the lines and subtle engravings on its surface. He wasn't good at this.

It wasn't even just not liking being wrong and having to apologise and feeling uncomfortable with it, he just wasn't good at it.

::... Was plannin' on doing this before, um. This.:: This wasn't going very well. His gaze flickered away from the altar, to Mirage, and then back.

::... Sorry. 'Bout the whole... accusin' ya thing on the mountain.:: He wasn't going to slump back against the wall. He was going to stare some more at the altar.

Mirage matched Ratchet's look stubbornly, not to be outdone on his own area of authority.

"That is an acceptable compromise; thank you for volunteering."

He smirked faintly, as much pleased by as he was irritated by Ratchet's stubborn nature.

Cliffjumper's awkward apology made the look flicker quickly with surprise, though. He cast a doubtful stare the minibot's way, optics narrowing.

"...Are you now? Are you sure this is not just because you want to avoid getting yourself into further trouble?"

"Volunteering, nothing! If I find out you do anything like this again without me, or in an emergency, First Aid, present, I will make you regret it." Ratchet's optics narrowed dangerously before he turned back to Tracks' joint, giving it a last few tweaks.

"That ought to do it for function since I don't have any spare armour on me." The cracks in the metal surrounding the joint weren't overly deep and could be taken care of by Tracks' self-repair, but he, like Sunstreaker, always insisted on everything being 'repaired', whether it needed to or not, right that moment instead of waiting for the self-repair.

Luckily they also (usually) knew when not to push this attitude.

Cliffjumper, meanwhile barely managed to supress his hiss and sank down where he sat, teeth gritted.

::Which fraggin' trouble?! Me apologisin' ain't gonna change that I got into a brawl with the snobby rust-up-his-circuits over there, so why the slag should I---:: Grinding his teeth and making sure his engine was locked down to not rev, Cliffjumper didn't bother doing anything with his jerky field - it wasn't reaching far enough the other three mechs in the room would have noticed unless they were already paying attention to him.

::I'm sorry for bein' an... an aft and not askin', okay? And... uh... sorry for messin' this up too, but I ain't sorry for interruptin' 'cause it could have been something bad!:: At the last, while Ratchet stood up, Cliffjumper finally turned his helm enough to glare at Mirage, chin stubbornly set.

They could say what they wanted, but he wasn't going to be sorry or apologise for interrupting a potentially bad situation, just... apologise for messing it up. Which wasn't precisely the same thing.

"Provided you and First Aid can keep your servos on and not barge in at every inopportune moment, that is fine."

Mirage rolled his optics, refusing to quail under Ratchet's infamous glare. Cliffjumper's ongoing communications probably helped with that - it kept him angry.

::The brawl is one thing, interfering with me again is another. But I suppose I see your point.::

Mirage paused, venting heavily to try and keep his temper.

:Your intentions may have been 'noble', but apologies do not change what you destroyed. You interfered with my religion, Cliffjumper. One that is nearly forgotten but for myself and a handful of others.::

Mirage turned to meet Cliffjumper's glare, gold optics cold.

::The Rites will have to be redone. And the interloper will have to make amends to to the Rite itself. Not me.::

Huffing, Ratchet just gave Mirage another narrowed stare before he crossed the floor and hauled Cliffjumper up - right at the moment Cliffjumper couldn't keep his squawk in at Mirage's demand that he make up for what he'd done.

Ratchet's arch stare and tilted helm was met with a quick shake of Cliffjumper's helm and the minibot looking away, almost crossing his arms over his chestplates before he remembered to not do that since Ratchet needed access to check his torso.

::What?! "Noble" fraggin' nothing, I just did it 'cause it wouldn't be right if someone was bein' assaulted, and how's that fair? I didn't even know you were doin' something like that!:: This was quickly going places Cliffjumper didn't trust at all - mostly because he wasn't sure Mirage wouldn't just make up something humiliating simply to get back at him.

Tracks probably would, and Mirage, however "proper" he was, was cybertronian as much as any of them (even if it didn't seem like that sometimes), and Cliffjumper had destroyed a whole lot more for him than he'd done for Tracks right now.

If he didn't want to accept the apology, fine, but this? He hadn't even meant to do anything but help and he'd especially not wanted to see Mirage at the end of an assault and...

... And he'd probably agree to it, but unease and anger was bubbling in his fuel tank.

Edited 2013-11-27 20:49 (UTC)

::And if someone was being assaulted, then there would be no problem for you!::

Mirage hissed through clenched lips, trying not to make their conversation any more obvious than it already was. Tracks was already starting to make optics at Mirage, glancing between them with a severe expression.

::But there wasn't so you broke the ritual for no reason and now we WILL follow tradition rite on how to fix it or so help me Primus!::

His fingers twitched, forming a fist at his side. Most. Infuriating. Minibot.

::I don't---!::

If Cliffjumper's twitch was read as anything but a wince while ratchet poked about the dented armour beneath the cracked windshield, the medic pretended that was all it was.

"Stay still." The comment was idle and not even particularly severe, and Cliffjumper subsided with a grimace that was as much for the medic poking around as it was for the noble.

"Sorry," Cliffjumper muttered as he glared off to the side on the floor, studiously avoiding to look at and ignoring Tracks as his optics flickered around the room.

He did not want to, and having to do something he didn't know what it was just set off all sorts of alarms in his processor (justified or not) and made him want to dig his feet in over this.

But... It'd sort of be part of the apology, wouldn't it? Refusing would make his sincere if clumsily worded attempt seem more like he'd just tried to ward off Mirage's well-deserved anger (over the mountain thing, at least) instead of actually meaning it.

::... okay.:: He wasn't sure if it would matter at all at this point, and he'd probably be lucky if Mirage would want anything to do with him after all of this was over with, but at least he would have done the right thing?

Cliffjumper didn't really feel particularly relieved after agreeing to Mirage's demand, however, and was just staring narrowly at the floor. Since he was sort and his helm was bowed down, at least the two nobles missed the slight worrying of the lower lip.

Honestly, Mirage expected to have to go Prime.

This...possible acquiescence, was unexpected. He wasn't sure Cliffjumper would actually go through with it yet, but...it was enough to get his fist to unclench, and some of the tension finally left him. Tracks raised an optic ridge at him, but he just shook his head minutely.

::...Good. I will contact you on an off-shift after I have prepared everything.::

And after this fiasco, Mirage was certain he could get Cliffjumper scheduled 'off' for a long enough period to properly make amends. Prime and Prowl would consider it part of his punishment, surely.

He didn't like the sound of that at all and the worried abused of his lip disappeared in a scowl.

::Fine---::

Ratchet suddenly stood up, causing Cliffjumper to cut his intended angry complaint (or something similar at any rate) and instead take a step back.

"Right. If you're quite done." Ratchet's gaze went from Tracks to Mirage and then down to Cliffjumper. "I need you to come with me to the medbay. I'm not going to bang that dent out in here."

Mostly because it would have to be done by opening things up and/or removing armour, which he wasn't going to do with an audience.

Cliffjumper opened his mouth to protest and then just closed it up again, because Ratchet could have done a small repairjob and let his self-repair take care of the rest, and here he was apparently going to go the extra length needed.

::And you can tell me what happened.::

The only reason the already on-edge minibot didn't bristle at that, was because there was absolutely no judgement in the tone, and instead he huffed and whirled around, stomping out.

"And I don't want to see this continued and finished up before I can set the time aside to be around, you hear me?" Ratchet turned to give Tracks and Mirage a pointed stare each.

"My rites do not run on your schedule, Ratchet," Mirage snapped, vexation flaring all over again.

He ached now, all over, from plating to processor, and for what? An interrupted ritual and a half-done glyphing. They didn't even get to the gilding.

"However, I will not be able to continue for some time. Since things need to be redone. I will let you know the time-frame once it is planned."

He gave the medic a short, perfunctory head bob; the most curtsey his wounded pride and old Priest-authority would allow for at the moment.

"Unfortunately not, but that ought to work well enough to let me rearrange things if necessary," Ratchet said dryly and nodded, leaving but not quite letting it end there.

::I'm sorry for insisting Mirage, but I am responsible for making sure all of you are fit and ready, and the situation supercedes normal procedures, even if a rite like that wouldn't normally have a medic of some sort present, which they do.::

Mirage would simply have to stand the indignity, and Ratchet made a noise in the sub-sonic range as he caught sight of the minibot stomping through teh corridors towards the medbay in front of him.

Ah, what a mess.

::Yes, yes...:: Mirage grumbled, waving a hand as Ratchet departed.

What a mess indeed.

"Come Tracks. Let us get this cleaned up..."

Mirage stretched his arms over his head, popping out the stiffness born from pain and anger; he was spotted with drizzles of energon and tiny fragments of welding slag wrought from his own frame. He turned toward the hot oil baths, Tracks laying a supportive hand on his shoulder as they went.

At least they could take some comfort in kvetching together in the washracks.

In the end, it had taken longer than probably planned or intended before Cliffjumper's "punishment" got put into actual reality, as a storm shortly after the incident in the storage room left the Autobots offering help and then a few days later Decepticon activity ramped up.

So it wasn't until two weeks later Cliffjumper was walking (okay, slooowlyyyy and dragging his feet about it) to where he'd been told to go, thoroughly uncomfortable.

Partly because he had no idea what Mirage intended, and he hated not knowing, especially as he didn't really trust Mirage - or Tracks either for that matter - to not come up with something humiliating. He was... uhm. Attracted to Mirage, yes, but that didn't mean he was stupid; the noble could be quite vicious when he wasn't aloof and standoffish, though Bumblebee had nuanced that picture, which was why, besides the physial attraction, the crush probably lingered.

But yeah, not stupid, and he'd had to spend the last two weeks with people needling him over his multiple missteps - or trying to badger him into telling them what Tracks and Mirage had been doing. How people had found out he didn't know, but he'd stayed stubbornly quiet about it. He'd also had to spend the time mostly with Bumblebee when it turned out nearly everybody of even his usual friends were being... insufferable.

Bumblebee, while he'd not let Cliffjumper get away from the fact that he'd acted stupidly in part, was at least more understanding.

Cliffjumper also found himself uncomfortable because after what had been said, he'd gone and done some research into that "pain could sometimes be pleasant" thing. Sure, most of it had by necessity have to come from human sources, but the theory was the same as he'd been able to piece together, so it was close enough to be helpful.

And close enough to let the minibot come to the conclusion that he didn't understand it at all, and got sort of... upset, at the thought of pain being caused deliberately like that, even if everybody participating supposedly enjoyed it.

It didn't seem safe, and it didn't seem right, but besides that, it just caused a viceral reaction in some deeper programming that just had Cliffjumper upset at the idea in general. And that was sort of annoying, but---

Pushing the thought away as he'd gotten there, Cliffjumper crossed his arms over his chestplates and straightened his back. He could do this.

In the time between their last 'meeting', Mirage has been very busy. More busy than he would have liked, given the recent return of Decepticon activity. His irritation over the interruptions never really faded, only taking a different form over time.

A brief mission and a usually vicious bought of sabotage, however, ensured the former noble a block of time without emergency interruptions.

The news getting out was probably Track's doing, which Mirage couldn't really begrudge. He didn't care one way or another if people knew Cliffjumper made an aft of himself - social punishment was one the temple's preferred methods of punishment, after all. And he was going to be making his amends.

If the other mechs didn't know just what, specifically, had been interrupted...well.

It wasn't time for that quite yet.

With Tracks (who wanted as little contact with the minibot as possible) waiting in the ritual room, Mirage waited in the officer's bath nearby. He'd specially booked it or the evening, and it was the destination of the instructions relayed to Cliffjumper via comm-ping. He sat on the side of the chemical wash, waiting in the steam for Cliffjumper to arrive.

It took a while because when Cliffjumper realised what and where Mirage had decided he should come meet him, Cliffjumper ended up staring a lot and completely confused as to why they were going to meet in a bath.

... And the officers' bath, too.

But, since he was doing this, even if he didn't want to, Cliffjumper did slide inside after a while, frowning and optics flickering around the room.

"... Why are we here?" Cliffjumper couldn't really see, at all, what could require meeting in a fragging bath... Well, unless Mirage wanted him to clean the whole place or whatever, and while that might be annoying, it'd be... something simple and concrete and known.

"Cliffjumper."

Mirage said in pointed greeting, narrowly dipping his head. The steam was thick, air scented with the tang of hot oil and chemical wash, but Cliffjumper's entrance momentarily cleared the room to see more clearly.

"We are here for you to make amends, if you recall correctly."

He rose up, long legs unfolding from his meditative pose on the edge of the bath. He motioned Cliffjumper further inside.

"So come closer, so we can get started."

"In a bath?" Almost literally creeping closer slowly, frown heavy as he squinted around them, the wariness was probably extremely easy to pick up on. Cliffjumper also didn't want to get closer, because even with the steam partly obscuring easy vision in a standard visual range, it was all too easy to catch sight of Mirage anyway.

Mirage and his long and lean lines, the planes of his armour highlighted by condensation in the heat... Looking away from Mirage again, Cliffjumper shifted on his feet and finally got up in front of Mirage, though almost a full length of his own frame apart.

Nevermind what they were doing here, Cliffjumper just didn't want to be here. Not with Mirage, and the sort of intimacy a bath implied. It set his teeth and field on edge with embarrassment.

"How the slag am I gonna do anything in a bath?"

Unbidden, there were a few thoughts that popped up into his helm and he managed to banish them fast enough there were no reaction to them other than a tiny flare of his optics, which was probably lost in the softened light from the steam.

Mirage watched as Cliffjumper hemmed and hawed with a raised optic ridge, before sighing in exasperation.

Apparently he needed to explain in detail if he wanted Cliffjumper to even come inside without acting like he was the one getting Marked tonight.

"Oh, calm down already. It is nothing nefarious."

With a huff, Mirage stepped back and set himself back down, this time on the lip of the bath which put them at about the same height.

"I'll try to explain, but I doubt you'll understand entirely."

Offlining his optics briefly, he vented heavily, setting the steam swirling, before his engine rose up in a low, deep rumble that almost seemed to hold a note in the tone of it; like a chant or song.

There might have been a muttered "says you" somewhere there, but it was nearly sub-sonic and not meant to be heard. Frowning at Mirage as he sat back down again, Cliffjumper crossed his arms and stared as the noble seemed to... what?

Get ready to sing?

How would that explain anything?

But even as he frowned and shifted on his feet, wanting to snap something about 'so explain it already!', Cliffjumper kept his vocal processors in neutral and his vocaliser off and instead got a little closer.

He could be patient, and Mirage hadn't even started... whatever and however he was going to explain it. That Mirage was willing to at least try (but why was it so slagging hard to explain, anyway?) to explain was nice, but at the same time it just made him more nervous because what was so complicated it would need an explanation that wasn't easy to do?

Mirage was both pleased and surprised that Cliffjumper didn't interrupt, but gladly finished his wordless engine-song without pause.

It was merely a warmup without official religious significance, but his mentor - and predecessor - in the Temple had given him the habit. He gently let the sound fade, irritation soothed by the brief meditation.

"To make amends properly, you have to assist in repairing what was interrupted. But to participate, you must be properly anointed."

Mirage raised an optic ridge, gesturing to the steaming bath right behind him.

By the end of it, Cliffjumper was confused - a little more relaxed, having dropped his arms from their tight fold against his chestplates and loosened his stance a little, but confused, because that didn't explain anything.

Mirage was sort of pretty like that thou---

"What?!" The previous tension sprang right back as Cliffjumper took half a step back, hands up. "I don't know a single slaggin' thing 'bout... stuff like that and ya want me helping?" Even if he didn't know what Mirage meant by that he should "assist", Cliffjumper couldn't see how it would be clever to have someone who didn't know anything help.

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Page 3 of 42

The Start of Something Interesting...

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