#a-life-revised

" I have spare ore, so by generous calculations, hardly any time at all. It would take a couple of deca-cycles to bake the mold and allow the metal to set into place. " A beat of silence between replies, " with the knowledge I've gained with completing it the first time— no. I could trim it down to about 3/4s the time I had performed it the first round. "

Waterlily was far to used to bites from various mechs. From Whiskeys shark denta, to the twins little bites that felt like they were from bugs. From the berthroom to the feral servo to servo, struggling to come out on top without dying.

On a list of things Tarn expected Megatron to do when lifting his servo to his mouth, chomping down on his wrist was not very high. He knew of Megatron's... oral fixation, his tendancy to put things in his mouth, but he didn't expect him to be one of those things.

A soft pink hue spread across his scarred features, appearing a bit darker over the scars than the mesh of his face plating.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Megatron’s response is wry, said partly said out of the corner of his mouth, and he shoots her a look out of the corner of his optics.

“I could give you plenty of excuses, I suppose- it’d be easy. The Council was oppressive, the people under them were happy to continue the system because they benefited from it, the enforcers were all too happy to look the other way when it was someone lining their bank accounts, but not when it was someone who needed help, and everyone else was angry but too afraid to do half of what I did.”

Megatron’s voice raises, just slightly, not to a yell, but with a sort of clarity, and he turns to face her head on, making direct optic contact. “I may not have made a change that everyone liked, or even a change that ended well,it wasn’t even necessarily a kind change, but I made a change. I did something, when everyone was prepared to watch me beat my helm against a wall with no help, if only to see how long it took me to be crushed under heel, the same as they were.”

The gunmetal grey mech pauses, and he tilts his helm, just a little. “I could say all of that, and on a lot of levels it would be the truth. But it’s not a truth that matters. Because the Movement rippled outwards from my actions. My treatment of one mech affected how they treated others. My treatment of all Decepticons rippled outwards onto how they treated each other. The Movement became a Cesspool.”

His arms fold behind his back, a wrist held in the palm of the other servo, and he tips his helm forward, watching her from underneath his helm.

“I won’t say ’I’m sorry’. I wasn’t, back then, and I don’t think an apology could even begin to scratch the surface of the damage I’ve done. I’m not even saying this to win you over or persuade you that I’ve changed, or this, that and the other. I have done damage. It’s only reasonable that I spend my life working towards cleaning up some of what I’ve done. I doubt, highly, that I can fix anything- I may not be able to fix a majority of it. ..but I can try.”

✾    ─   Arcee listens in silence, helm slowly lowering. Indeed. It is said what she cannot accept as her answer. But she recognized her thoughts had matured over time. The first, she saw only pain and the evil that took everything from her. Destruction. Later, she recognized it wasn’t about her, or evil.  Studying more historical documents, and the writings of those influencing other side, the Autobot had become to understand.

Yes, she was wronged, as were many. Some had nothing since the start of the age. War awakens the ugly in everyone. Her too.

Megatron alone is not to blame - just as told to her. The entire war fits more than one behind this all, not even all in one faction.

As much as she hoped - it is disheartening having to accept. She will never have her complete, satisfying answer. No matter how much she dwells in the past - she cannot find it. How much power that obsession to find the answer for the question: why has on her. It has clutched her, tightened its grasp, so much she cannot struggle free. 

     ❝ I don’t want excuses, because excuses are not truths... To me, excuses are mere decorations, little lies, denials... I only want to the truth. The raw, unpolished truth. I would give anything to know why, why it all came down. Loss of everything is hard, if not impossible to forgive but a truth I can accept and slowly grow to understand...❞ She sighs, covering the optics with her servo. As much as it pains her to admit - the young femme once screaming why, will never be satisfied.

A colored sketch commission for @a-life-revised !! 

Sunder’s sightless gaze stared past him, but the twitch of his helm-fins showed that he’d heard. It was quiet for a moment.