after finishing Lost Light i needed to treat myself with some cygates

#extradirty

blake kathryn

⁂

Kiana Khansmith

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@servusendura
after finishing Lost Light i needed to treat myself with some cygates

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im being stalked by a dangerous bird and you laugh
“Am I not well within my rights?”
As stoic as ever. Yet, the starfighter’s optics suggest a smile. “Whirl will not grievously harm you.”
⋆ · 𖤓 · ⋆ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇 ··· a collection of sworn oaths and rusted honour, the men and women who guard a city that would sooner forget them, loyalty that bleeds but never bends. genre: drama, romance, angst, medieval.
I didn't take this post for the glory. There is no glory in this.
I swore an oath before I knew what oaths cost. I have been paying ever since.
You should not be in this part of the city at this hour. I will not ask again.
My loyalty belongs to the crown.
Stand down. All of you. I said stand down!
I have kept this city's peace for fifteen years. You have undone me in fifteen days.
You come to me with this now. At this hour. With blood on your hands and no explanation.
The gate closes at sundown. You knew that. Why are you only arriving now?
There are things I have done in service of this city that I will not speak of. Not to you. Not to anyone.
Lower your voice. These walls remember everything said within them.
I have followed orders my entire life. I am looking at you and wondering, for the first time, what it would mean to refuse one.
You are not safe here.
My men did not see you. As far as this watch is concerned you were never here tonight.
I have held this post through three rulers. I will not compromise it. Not even for you.
The city does not sleep. Neither do I. We have that in common, at least.
Tell me what you know and tell me quickly. I have neither time nor patience for half truths.
I understand sacrifice. What I do not understand is being asked to sacrifice you.
Nobody passes through this gate without my leave.
I have drawn this sword in service of causes I did not believe in. I will not draw it against you.
You ask me to look the other way. You do not know what you are asking.
A commander does not have the luxury of doubt. I have been doubting since the moment I met you.
The fog comes in heavy off the river at this hour. Stay close.
I know every shadow in this city. I know every place a person might hide. I will find who did this.
You should fear me. Most people do. The fact that you do not is either very brave or very foolish.
I have given this city everything it has asked of me. Tonight it is asking for something I cannot give.
My second will take the watch. You and I need to speak somewhere without ears in the walls.
The law is the law. I did not write it. I do not always agree with it. I enforce it nonetheless.
You, of all people, came to the barracks. What has happened?
I have seen men break under far less. You are still standing. That means something.
Do not mistake my silence for approval, boy. Do not mistake it for indifference either.
I was told you were trouble the day you arrived in this city. I should have listened.
A knight serves. That is the whole of it. Serve, protect, endure. I have never wanted more than that until now.
I have enemies in every quarter of this city. I will not have you become a target because of your association with me.
The order came from above me. I am not certain it came from a place I still respect.
Put the blade down. I am asking you as someone who does not wish to see you hanged.
There are two kinds of people in a city like this. Those who are protected and those who do the protecting. I have always known which one I am.
You should not trust me simply because I wear this cloak. Trust must be earned. Let me earn it.
I will not pretend the law bends for sentiment. I will also not pretend I am without sentiment where you are concerned.
My duty ends at that door. What happens beyond it is between you and whatever gods you keep.
You are asking me to betray everything I have built my life upon.
The city watch answers to the crown. I answer to the city watch. Tonight I find myself answering to something else entirely.
I have buried men I called brothers. I have mourned them quietly and moved on because the realm does not pause for grief.
I am not accustomed to being seen. Only to being obeyed.
Ride out at first light. Take nothing that marks you as known to me. I will follow when I can.
You remind me of something I gave up a long time ago.
I have protected this city from every threat that has come for it. I did not anticipate that the thing I most needed protecting from would walk through my own gate.
Hhm-hhhheh.
It’s good to see them being playful.
lmao i’m reading this essay from the 1580s that mentions how if you were wearing a big elizabethan ruff and you got caught in the rain it would flip up in the wind and hit you in the face, and then you’d have to spend the rest of the day with your stupid soggy ruff all flaccid on your shoulders. can you imagine. whole new potentials for pathetic unlocked
@venatorventus

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Cyclonus’ voice is soft as she observes the younger mech, carefully holding out a sword wrapped in thick oil-cloth. “Witch’s son. I would ask a service of you, and I offer you service in turn.”
Springer rolls back from where hes sketching on a datapad. Frowning at Cyclonus- not irritated but thinking. Then he cocks his helm. Gaze flicking from the blade back to her," Whats the asking?"
“I take pride in maintaining my liege-lord’s plate and personal armaments, but this item in particular is beyond my ability to care for,” Cyclonus admits, a tinge of guilt flickering through her field before she can manage to smother it.
What happened to her Lord— to all of them, under Nova Prime’s betrayal— was not something Cyclonus could have prevented.
She lays the elaborate longsword on the table nearby and begins the process of unwrapping it, careful not to nick herself on the shattered blade. Such grief has been wrecked…
“This sword belonged to the only mech Galvatron has, and ever will, called master. You have heard of Megatronus Prime, I am sure.”
I love you Cyclonus!!!
"i want them to make each other worse" i want them to have an impact on each other that's hard to define as objectively good or bad but is still sure to change the trajectory of their lives and alter their very being on a fundamental level forever
She’s dozed off in the corner, sitting up with her arms crossed over her chassis.
Someone— the bad writing suggests Whirl— has hung a note from a horn that says ‘NOT DEAD. SLEEPING.’
hello. can I offer you a giant purple people eater. perhamps in your lap or general personal space.

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i love you women with deep voices
Sorry not sorry...
Hrrrr. Thoughts of warm blue plating and sharp claws are… too distracting to be allowed to continue.
I’m soooooo embarrassed. My lord told me “good night,” but I thought he was calling me a good knight, and, well, you could hear it clink against my codpiece.

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"It is too bright outside for these sorts of shenanigans."
Galvatron smushes his face into her neck cables. World bright and sharp. Trinemate dark and soothing.
There are many benefits to being tall, dark, and brooding.
Such as having your shorter Lord and Master make use of you as a makeshift umbrella. Scourge would probably be better suited with the canopy of his wings, but...
"My liege. Would you prefer it if I transformed?" Cyclonus asks, even as she shifts around to lift her arm over his helm and block him from Hadeen with the guidefin there. "The windows of my canopy are tinted."
Petulant huffing. “I cannot hold you while you are a starfighter.”
After a while, he angles them both towards the closest shelter. “Steer,” he commands, not looking up from his hiding place.
"Salient point. Of course." Planes don't have arms. Or necks, for that matter, even though Galvatron's voice rumbling against her throat is making Cyclonus' helm feel fuzzy.
...Or maybe that's the ambient temperature.
Steer she does, directing them both with slow nudges towards the shaded overhang of some sort of... It was a crumbling, neglected overpass or something of that nature, a bit weedy at the base of its stone columns.
Blessedly shaded and cooler. Huzzah.
"The trouble of a stabilized orbit," the Hierophant muses. "Seasonal weather."
"It is too bright outside for these sorts of shenanigans."
Galvatron smushes his face into her neck cables. World bright and sharp. Trinemate dark and soothing.
There are many benefits to being tall, dark, and brooding.
Such as having your shorter Lord and Master make use of you as a makeshift umbrella. Scourge would probably be better suited with the canopy of his wings, but...
"My liege. Would you prefer it if I transformed?" Cyclonus asks, even as she shifts around to lift her arm over his helm and block him from Hadeen with the guidefin there. "The windows of my canopy are tinted."