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red_diode_district2013-11-10 05:39 pm
lastonepercent) wrote in red_diode_district2013-11-10 05:39 pm
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...
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...
no subject
"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?"
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"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.
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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.::
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
no subject
::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.
no subject
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.
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::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.
no subject
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.