The Start of Something Interesting...

[lastonepercent]

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...

Comments

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper huffed at the comment, ready to mutter something about it, before Mirage had said that. While he'd eagerly stepped away from the polishing area and been about to blow ahead, Mirage's comment reasserted reality as to the reason they were even here.

He'd forgotten it in the whirl of curiosity, incredulity and flustered surprise as Mirage explained things around their mostly put-aside religious practices. War did things like that, regardless of if any given mech had been practicing or not.

Cliffjumper trundled after Mirage, lagging quite a few steps behind which couldn't be explained by the different length of steps that they could take.

He really didn't want to do this, because despite the explanation, when he thought back on what he'd stormed in on... All it did was make his engine rumble out of cycle, a sense of uncomfortable.... something, settling around his spark chamber.

"Really don't see why I couldn't have done something else..." Cliffjumper muttered, snapping his mouth shut and vocaliser into neutral as he trailed in after Mirage and spotted Tracks.

[lastonepercent]

"I would agree," said the dour voice inside the room. Tracks was waiting and glared down at the minibot when he entered, arms crossed over his chest.

"I would much prefer him elsewhere."

Mirage sighed as he swept past the sulking aristocrat. The room was practically glowing despite the dim overhead light settings; running lights and the blue and pink glows of precious energon adding to the brilliant decor.

Too bad he didn't get to savor it just yet. He spun on a tire-heel to glare at them both.

"Well that is just too bad for you both. You are going to have to strut-it-up and deal."

[cliffjumper]

Glaring, Cliffjumper had stopped a few steps inside the door, crossing his arms. He should probably have expected Tracks to be here - when he thought about it, it was obvious Mirage wouldn't be able to do what he'd caught a glimpse of before alone.

He'd need help and for whatever reason he'd chosen the insufferable, gold-plated glitch that Tracks was for this.

"And I'd rather prefer y---" Swallowing the rest of the insult as Mirage whirled so he could stare at them both, Cliffjumper growled and gave Tracks a last glare before he glanced around the room. He had no idea where would be best, since at least he wasn't supposed to do anything but watch.

... But even that simple thought made something turn over within, between spark chamber and fuel processing system.

"So, uh. Where am I supposed to... er. Be?" He did not want to be here, and despite the rather soothing lighting the room was swathed in from the running lights and the energon, Cliffjumper felt twitchy.

Hopefully neither of them, but especially Tracks, wouldn't notice.

[lastonepercent]

Tracks gave Mirage a long-suffering sigh, but didn't argue. Ignoring the minibot as though he suddenly did not exist, Tracks turned his back on him in favor of dealing with some of the decorations on the altar.

"You will be over here," Mirage said, gesturing down toward the single mesh pouf sitting in front of the altar. Past the altar, was the low berth covered with mesh and silks; the very same that Cliffjumper had caught Tracks and Mirage carving the priest's marks on before.

The poor minibot would be getting a front-row view of Mirage's detailing.

[cliffjumper]

"Really?" At least it was a hiss, even if it's spiritual self was a whine as Cliffjumper looked from the altar where he'd be sitting, to the berth, right in front of it.

His field twitched, but thankfully he caught it before it could wobble outside of normal range, which meant no one would notice anything if they were being polite about keeping their own personal space.

Which he hoped.

Not bothering to hide his grimace, Cliffjumper stomped over to the altar, glared at Tracks and then nearly collapsed onto the pouf.

Sitting still was far harder to accomplish however, because despite the fact that it was a well-made metal mesh and was well-filled, it didn't seem... comfortable. Which was probably only partly due to Cliffjumper being uncomfortable and partly that it was large enough the easiest way to sit on it was with his legs crossed when he'd rather have sat with them under him. Easier to get up from, but the pouf was too squishy for that.

"There, happy?" With a grumble, Cliffjumper crossed his arms over his chestplates and stared at the altar instead of either Tracks or Mirage.

[lastonepercent]

"Ecstatic." Mirage drawled, turning back only briefly to glimpse Cliffjumper seated on the pouf. Satisfied, he was finally able to focus on his actual purpose there. Nodding at Tracks, Mirage was happy to begin.

Tracks began a low, wordless hum as he took up his place beside the altar, hands on the either side of a glowing square bowl of energon. Mirage knelt down on his knees along the other side, voice slowly rising up to meet Track's throbbing call.

Toneless humming slowly shifted into a chant, as Mirage began to sing in Ancient Cybertronian.

[cliffjumper]

Shamelessly, and toroughly annoyed enough not to care, even if the discussion in the washroom previously had been interesting (flustering in parts, but interesting), Cliffjumper pulled a grimace at Mirage's back as the noble turned away.

It smoothed out into a frown as the singing began however, and while he couldn't understand, the pitch seemed to vibrate right under his armour, along the surface of his protoform.

It was hard to stay still, but that was more because said vibration was sort of... itchy - it was a thing that had happened on the few holiday ceremonies he'd attended and was partly why he'd stopped - and made him want to squirm, not because he was annoyed at the time this was taking.

Because despite the low dread, for the moment soothed into nothing, over what he knew would come later, right now this was just sort of... interesting. Even if he didn't understand a single thing, which just made him want to zone off, but for now the dim lights playing off Mirage's armour, and that bowl of energon, held his interest.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage was singing out the opening ceremony prayers. He refused to let the irony or bitter disappointment show in his song; usually, this would be sung in front of a full enclave of priests at least. At best, such a ceremony would be broadcast to the entire planet.

A hastily decorated room in the back of a grubby, broken down ship with three participants was something of a step down.

But Mirage kept to the full script, chanting out the entire Rites of First Spark reserved for such an occasion. Voice ringing along with Tracks' background accompaniment, he paused only to accept the bowl of energon from the other noble, drinking deeply from the glowing purple-blue broth.

It was a very pure sort of highgrade; the only bit of 'antithetic' the priest would receive. Tracks nodding approvingly when all but a mouthful was gulped down, and he drank down the rest as Mirage continued his song.

Cliffjumper didn't know it - though he might be able to guess, given how Mirage turned to glance at him - the rites turned to the portion involving atonement and the presence of the atoner.

[cliffjumper]

The singing almost made Cliffjumper wish he knew what it meant, but only almost. While he did believe in Primus, and while this was quite... nice? it all seemed so very overdone for something that could be done in private and quietly.

Of course, right here and now this was being done in private, but that was due to necessity, not as par of the course, especially considering what Mirage had told him in the washracks and what he did know of the holiday ceremonies.

And so, nasal ridge scrunched up a little as he thought and helm tilted as he listened to the singing, still feeling like squirming because the slagging singing was getting to his sensory horns even with dialing down the sensitivity, Cliffjumper missed Mirage's stare.

Or rather, what it might mean.

All he caught was Mirage's slight turn and his optics, lambent like sunlight in the dim lighting of the room, sweeping briefly across him.

Yeah, whatever I'm still here. Cliffjumper managed to not grimace at the noble though as that thought cross his mind, mostly because he didn't want to interrupt, again.

At least not yet.

[lastonepercent]

Cliffjumper may not have noticed the significance of Mirage's glance, but he was probably able to pick out the sounds of his name, rendered in song and accented in old-fashioned glyphs amongst the Old Cybertronian.

Mirage, stating his purpose as an observer; undoing the damage he had wrought by observing peacefully what he had once disdained.

A cube was brought out from behind the altar and poured into the now-empty bowl. Song reaching a pointed plateau, Mirage knelt and gracefully offered Cliffjumper the glowing bowl.

Behind him, Tracks gave a barely audible sigh of displeasure.

[cliffjumper]

He did pick that up all right, if only towards the end, and wasn't it just odd hearing his name in that way. It sounded kinda pretty though, he could admit, but whether that was the singing or the more old-fashioned way of rendering it, he wasn't sure.

Cliffjumper, despite having followed Mirage leaving his spot by the berth and watched him fill the bowl again, was nonetheless caught by surprise when it was offered to him. H probably looked pretty startled, optics widening and the glow of them brightening before they narrowed again to glare at Tracks briefly, and then he just stared some more at the bowl.

Why did he have to drink it? Wasn't it enough he was just here?

... Apparently not.

After a few more moments, Cliffjumper gingerly took the bowl, staring narrowly at it before he slowly took a sip, eyeing Mirage for each little gulp just to gauge how much he had to drink.

[lastonepercent]

::At least half, if you please.:: Mirage said over a hasty comm.

Without the small army of junior priests and aids of a temple, the full explanations to the 'atoner' were left to Mirage or Tracks.

And given Tracks' just-barely-acceptable levels of open disdain... It was easier for Mirage to just do it himself.

Mirage remained kneeling, patiently waiting despite the pointed stare.

[cliffjumper]

::Fine.:: Grimacing over the energon, the expression thus half obscured by the bowl, Cliffjumper let out a huff from his vents and dropped his stare from Mirage's faceplates.

He couldn't keep it up for too long anyway, and he'd just come to a decision... Which might not be what Mirage might intend for him to, but if he was here he was here, right? So, optics flickering out, Cliffjumper determindedly and quickly downed the whole bowl in as quick a sweep as he could manage.

Shaking his helm and supressing a shudder as he lowered the bowl, he hoped he wouldn't regret that.

[lastonepercent]

::Thank you.::

His tone over the comm was odd - he couldn't tease or be sarcastic at all, not in this situation. It would defeat the purpose of the entire thing; a Priest jabbing verbally at an Atoner during a ceremony?

Never!

Bowing from his kneeling position, Mirage was still able to give Cliffjumper a faint smile before retrieving the bowl. Tipping the bowl all of the way back to both drink the dregs and prove that the bowl was empty, Mirage rose gracefully back up to his feet, returning to the alter.

[cliffjumper]

Engine grumbling threateningly as Cliffjumper's optics narrowed at the tone, he still remained where he was and didn't say anything. Mostly because he wasn't sure if Mirage was trying to be sarcastic and trying to hide it, or if he was being honest and he just couldn't believe he had to be that towards Cliffjumper.

Even if they'd had a perfectly okay conversation in the washracks earlier. And wasn't that a strange thought still? Not something he'd thought he'd end up doing with Mirage.

Of course, it wasn't as if it'd been for any other reason than this.

The smile, faint and brief as it was, startled Cliffjumper out of his thoughts and he dropped his optics. Then, realising what he'd just done, he straightened up again with a grimace and reluctantly followed Mirage leaving.

He wasn't looking forward to to this.

[lastonepercent]

Resuming his chanted prayers, Mirage's focus left Cliffjumper at last. The first, most important part of the minibot's participation was done - now he just had to watch.

Turning his golden gaze on Tracks, Mirage continued his recitation, formally offering Tracks the Duty-Honor of assisting the current High Priest. The other noble accepted in all the right places, of course; bowing his helm with the same level of grace.

Thrumming hum dying down, Mirage slid to his feet and climbed up onto the cushioned berth. Tracks followed, pre-cleansed and purified etching tools in hand.

Time to get down to business.

[cliffjumper]

It was hard to sit still - was all this chanting really necessary? On the other hand, it meant a delay in getting to the actual... thing. Ritual? But that also meant he still had a lot of time left sitting here, so.

Supressing a groan, Cliffjumper shifted just slightly and then froze as Mirage fell quiet and got up on the berth. He ignored the flicker of unease along his circuits, because maybe now that he knew the context, it wouldn't be as bad?

Or wouldn't look as bad, which would hopefully make it better all around, but Cliffjumper had severe doubts about that. Because despite what he knew now, quickly reviewing the scene he'd burst in on didn't look any better.

He ended up staring at the berth and the two occupants with a growing sense of needed-to-move unease, and crossed his arms over his chestplates. It also seemed far too... erm, intimate a thing to have a spectator for, though that was just because of the berth.

[lastonepercent]

Laying down on his ventral plates, Mirage allowed himself the luxury of resettling down into the cushions comfortably, chin resting on crossed arms. There would be little else entirely 'comfortable' about this. Tracks climbed up behind him, next to the side which had remained half-done since their last session.

With a nod to his fellow noble, Mirage's optics went half-lit as he resumed his deep, thrumming hum; the monotonous chant served as a focal point, allowing him to withstand the pain of the etching. Tool in hand coming to life with a whine, Tracks began to continue the etching marks without so much as a single glance in Cliffjumper's direction.

The tool drew sparks as it bit through chromomatonanites and the upper layers of plating; Mirage twitched, shoulder-wheels hunching minutely with a quiet engine whine before he abruptly evened out, frame regaining it's former slack. Tracks seemed to have been anticipating it, withdrawing just enough to keep from mussing the lines, before continuing.

It was going to be a long night.

[cliffjumper]

This was... this wasn't so bad.

Maybe.

He still couldn't understand at all why anyone would want to do this willingly, or why it would be required of the priests, but maybe... Maybe he could sit through this?

On the other hand, it was hard to look at it, because he kept looking for signs of Mirage being uncomfortable. But so far, this seemed less... damning, than what he'd walked in on.

Of course, what he had walked in on had probably been going on for a while, a thought that made an uncomfortable flutter-clench somewhere in his fuel processing.

Maybe if he just concentrated on the humming that was coming from Mirage and was starting to permeat the whole room with its own vibration would help?

[lastonepercent]

It was either experience or skill that allowed Tracks to carve as quickly as he did, etching glyphs in long, fluid strokes.

Unfortunately for both Cliffjumper and Mirage, it was quickly apparent that this careful speed wasn't enough to make the process particularly short. The detail was meticulous, and there was a a lot of plating to cover. Only Mirage's mostly-finished arm was wrapped up in just a few minutes, Tracks working his way to the lithe noble's back.

Mirage's humming continued all the while, but the first hitch in the song came when the etching reached spinal struts.

[cliffjumper]

The only thing Cliffjumper could think as the kliks crawled on, was that at least Mirage wasn't the size of Prime or anything. But neither was he a minibot, and there really was a lot of plating.

Were they really going to cover all of it?

He had to supress the annoyed mutter and settle down again, but the sudden hitch drew his attention away from his thoughts and the song that had been thrumming along underneath them, keeping them afloat.

Optics sharpening on the scene again, Cliffjumper frowned as he first couldn't see anything - and then Mirage shifted again, with another hitch and... yeah, he knew there would be pain.

That was why he'd stopped it originally, especially as it hadn't looked okay.

Now?

He shifted, glancing away. Mirage had agreed to this - it was on his own initiative, if Cliffjumper understood it right.

That didn't make it easier.

[lastonepercent]

Thankfully, it wasn't going to be completely covered: it was a religious embellishment, not tacky graffiti. Tracks was sticking to the edges and angles of Mirage's plating sections, curling glyphs along rotorcuffs and leaving whole stretches of gleaming white and blue untouched.

The visual effect was very striking and ornate- but seams were generally the more sensitive of areas. Especially along spinal struts.

Optics shuttering nearly-closed, Mirage's hands curled and uncurled as he fought the urge to twitch and writhe. But the humming continued unbroken, and other than the increase in tension as Tracks worked his way down Mirage's back, the priest stayed in place.

[cliffjumper]

Not that he could exactly see the extent of it, but he caught flashes of the fresh wou--- etchings in the light as Mirage twitched and Tracks moved and Mirage was doing this willingly.

It was a little hard keeping that in mind though, even with the humming song to distract him. The little twitches and Mirage's flexing hands were like visual bells in the otherwise still room, and Cliffjumper's expression slowly drew up into a grimace.

This wasn't right.

Why was this based of injuring yourself? He was vaguely aware that it was perfectly possible that some people enjoyed deliberately applied pain in certain circumstances, or accepted pain in some circumstances. This was one of those.

That didn't help Cliffjumper though, because pain wasn't right - and it was also uncomfortable because it was hard to tell if those little squirms were from pain or something... else.

Uncomfortable and unhappy, Cliffjumper gritted his teeth and hunched up, cables tightening and his posture growing stiffer by the klik.

[lastonepercent]

The work down Mirage's already fairly intricate spinal plating took some time; time enough for Cliffjumper's displeasure to draw notice, even with the level of devotion going into the work. Sparring a glance in Cliffjumper's direction, Track's optics narrowed at the rising tension in the red frame. If the minibot interrupted again, the noble didn't know what he might be driven to do.

But he certainly couldn't interrupt his work to do something preemptive. It was against protocol for him to even comm the little glitch.

Well. He couldn't. But he could comm Mirage - even if he was of the opinion that his friend was far too forgiving of the Minibot's lapse in judgement.

A few kliks later, Mirage's optics flickered dimly online, causing a noticeable halt in the low grunting now that a distraction had apparently presented itself. He glanced around in a daze, before settling on Cliffjumper's hunched frame. Warbling song not breaking for a moment, he opened a commline in a mild breech of protocol.

::...Cliffjumper.::

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper stiffened and then hunched up further, glaring at the floor in front of his as if it somehow had committed some grave error.

::... What?:: Cliffjumper was honestly surprised at how sulky and defensive he sounded, but he couldn't help it. Glancing up sideways at Mirage, he noted while the noises had stopped, it was still obvious that he was in pain.

Which, well.

Was understandable considering what was going on, but all he wanted to do was to jump up and yank Tracks away as the source/cause of the pain. He knew it was consensual, that it was 'necessary' - it still didn't help the bubbling unease that seemed to crawl along his circuits.