#logic-and-reason

:: I left you a note. ::

He did. All the information it contained could be summed up as ‘I have unfinished business somewhere, I’ll call you as soon as I can’ - and with that he simply left Jazz on Luna 1.

Hearing that worry in the agent’s voice, Prowl was starting to think that perhaps he should have left more information. Or called earlier.

:: I…apologize. ::

Hopefully this will make things a bit better, so they can move to other matters and…

Wait.

…a therapy group.

Really, Jazz?

:: I do not need a therapy group, and I am not certain why you think that I would suddenly call just to invite you to join one, :: Prowl answered flatly, doorwings flicking ever so slightly. That was not a response he expected.

A moment of silence followed, yet soon his good mood returned, a hint of something smug tinting his voice when he spoke again.

:: Peaceful Revolution is a ship. My ship. ::

Yes, he remembered the note, and having to craft a way to get to the space bridge and off of Luna-1. 

:: Yeah I know ya left a note, don’t worry I got it. :: 

Jazz really hoped he didn’t sound as bitter as he surprisingly felt. He really shouldn’t be that bitter because this was how him and Prowl always worked. Despite how disappointed the ex-agent felt waking alone. 

:: You know, I could have maybe helped :: He added a little more quietly after the apology, but shook his helm with a sigh. Unseen trying to urge Prowl to not linger if the mech had inclination to do so. Luckily, the odd request from Prowl was enough to shift the topic rather abruptly. Jazz couldn’t help but exasperatedly laugh at the former tactician’s flat response. He didn’t hesitate to fill the silence.

:: Prowler, I figure as much, why do you think I was surprised? Trust me my chips weren’t on the therapy bet, making a joke. ::  

A ship? Prowl’s ship?

:: Hold up, ya got a ship? You actually got a ship? :: His voice was littered with disbelief, amusement, and excitement. 

:: No fraggin’ way! :: Jazz laughed :: And you want little ole me? Hell yea, Prowler. :: 

logic-and-reason started following you

Send a 💓 if you’d like a kiss from my muse.

Ah, if only Tarantulas could give Prowl a kiss...

  @logic-and-reason

Jazz would never stop caring or loving Prowl. He would always fall onto old habits, whether they were good or bad was left up to the dealer’s choice and opinions. Personally, looking after Prowl-- even having those moments again-- would never be bad in Jazz’s book. 

The war and killing that came with them, and yet pushed the closer together: bad.

Together: good. Prowl had been one of Jazz’s few anchors to reality when the world came crashing down. No wonder he felt so lost now. It seemed that it only took a few horrible storms and sharp turns to find Jazz lost against the ruins of his mind, and the changed world. Speaking of changed world... Jazz made a noise of disbelief before laughing softly, 

     :: You on a sabbatical? No fraggin’ way. Well, I’ll be damned, and I’m missin’ out on the historical moment in Cybertronian history.:: 

He laughed again, shaking his helm. Only soon the somber haze returned. 

             ‘But as time advanced the lovely days were covered up from view                       By an advancing melancholy haze that hovered near the dew’

      :: Yeah, fellow bots ain’t too keen on talkin’ about me, and the rep I got goin’ for me. Even OP won’t say much. ::

There was a soft bitterness, and confusion. Jazz knew he made a mistake, and he needed to earn forgiveness, but how was he suppose to if there didn’t even look like there was a chance? His mind wandered back to the interview...that had been a trap. 

The visored mech wasn’t surprised that he received an answer, yet his helm ached at hearing it. His own anger rose to in dignified response feeling validated in all the hurt and hate it summed up. Eagerly agreeing with Prowl’s every word like it was a gospel to live off of. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Unseen his helm lowered between bent knees with a heavy sigh taking all the tension out of his frame. Slacking against the cavern walls. 

                ‘One day you opened up your eyes inside of you                           Inside a world inside a universe you didn’t get to choose’     

Jazz’s dimmed visor brightened at the sudden change of question. Paranoia settling in the back of his helm.

logic-and-reason

Put a tarot card in my inbox and I’ll answer the question!

What is the stupidest thing your muse has ever done?

Frick, there have been SO many incredibly stupid things, how can I choose… Let’s go with “constructing the Noisemaze even though Prowl expressly told him not to,” yeah?

What was the happiest moment of your muse’s life?

Another impossible question, yay! Erm. Maybe the moment when Mesothulas finished putting Ostaros together, stepped back, and just looked at him - his scion, soon to be onlined, full of potential, figuratively overflowing with all the time and dedication and love he’d poured into the project thus far. Just - pure joy. Eager anticipation. (Which, sadly, was brutally crushed not long afterward.)

If your muse ruled the world, what would they change first?