#silverprisma

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

Silverprism wasn’t replying to their messages, nothing, it was just…dead noise. He always replied, no matter what. In a panic, Plasma jumped to their location- Only to find themselves near a space station. A big one, an inhabited one. A floating city, likely made by refugees during the war. Silver was in…there? Not good, not good, unusual and ver not good, he’d never go willinging somewhere like that, he’d be arrested on te spot! He’d be so…twitchy. Why then? Hurriedly, they transformed and shifted as small as they could, ignoring stares from mechas on the docks.

They did not care who saw them at this point.

In less than a cycle, they’d managed to hunt down someone who knew, who’d seen Silverprism arrive. In bits. Blasted to char, but online surrounded by medics. There was only one hospital here, though Plasma knew they wouldn’t be ablt to get in on the fact that they were tchnically a medic, they were unregistered and would be treated with suspicion at the very least.

But they had a plan.

It was risky, bt they didn’t really care too much at this point. Barging past nurses and indignant cleaning droids, they marched into the facility and demanded to see Silver, using both proper designation and bach number. That at least made them listen. However-

“  Apologies, sir, his state has just becomes stable, ony next of ki-  ”

“  I’m his conjunx!  ”

There it was. Fucking…genius. Well, no, it was stupid and they’d regret it in a nanoklik, but it got them in, ushered through the doors by a older nurse, guided to Silver’s- Silver’s side.

He looked awful. He was missing an arm, half a leg, a huge hole in one side…But he was online. Still. They moved to his side as quickly as they could, the nurse stepping back to give privacy, their optics scanning over his frame til they reached his face, lightly stroking a cheekplate with one finger.

“  Shhh…Sil, it’s okay, I’m here…I, uh, might have lied and told them we’re married to get in here, so play along, yeah? How you feeling?  ”

[ cont | x ]

Of course he realizes the gravity of what he had done immediately. Wisely, he takes a few cautious steps back, palms-up to show he doesn’t intend to do it again. “Er– a… one of those grayface brutes, I’m certain you’ve seen them around. If it wasn’t for the threat of some sort of bodily harm the thought would never have occurred to me. Again, very sorry.”

He carefully inches away before he dies– or worse, gets his plating scratched.

☀️ ;; While not a violent mech by nature, there were times when his limits had been pushed--war did that far too often. However, upon seeing the mech back away as though they thought he was about to strike, Optimus found his annoyance shift gears; where mere nanokliks before his personal space had been invaded rather intimately, he was now beheld as one that might strike back, and with force. Was that how others saw him? His temper may have been short, but he did not go around punching strangers for no reason.

     People he knew, though? Well, there were variables to that equation, but sometimes.

It had not been Navimus idea to hire a bodyguards for the council but, after the attacks within Iacon there was no denying it was needed. Attacks specefially calling out the new council. 

Not everyone approved of a new council being formed and many were skeptical not matter how many times Navimus and the councilers assured them that it would be nothing like the old one. That no caste system would exist ever again, but it would take time to gain the returning citizens trust. 

So guards had been hired fore different floors and sections of the building to keep the council hall secure and to escort councilors to and from the building and their home if they felt it was necessary. 

With a small sigh Navimus set down the report she was going over, it was midday and about time for a lunch break. 

As she stepped out of her office and walked down the halls she ran into one of the hired guards, “Good afternoon.’ She said as she walked passed him. 

@silverprisma

It had been recklessness at it’s finest, of course, with a pinch of stubbornness thrown in for good measure. Ratchet was certain Wheeljack would be proud, a thought that made his plating itch. Or, perhaps, that was just the after effects of having just barely outsmarted a swarm of scraplets.

my bad

@silverprisma: 

Mmm… let me think about that… no. Run along little one, there are better looking mechs out here.