#theclockwitch

The metal of the balcony railing was cold under his palms. A singular anchor to the real world around him and the time and place that was now, not the then of his nightmare which still clung to the dark places in his mind. He could hear the rattle of plating. His own, as shudders racked his frame and the hyperspin of fans tried to shed heat from his systems.

Wing turned his flickering gold optics away from the toothy stalactite ceiling of the cavern above, and instead focused on the minimal night cycle lighting which illuminated the buildings under construction below him. With effort, he brought his optics into sharp focus, cataloging the sensory details. Construction cranes and scaffolding contrasted with the delicate structures that were the beginnings of the new Crystal City. In the distance he could hear the low drone of the recycling foundry beneath the stressed pitch of his systems. The air was chill against his plating, its scent distinctly earthy in ways Cybertron never could be. 

Yes. That was right. This wasn't Cybertron. He wasn't in Staniz. There wasn't kilos of rubble and debris over his head. 

Reanchored in the now, Wing used it as a tether and sent his mental focus further, again turned on the city. Not in its current fledgling state but the dream of it, and all the Circle had accomplished to get this far.

The mission of evacuating Metrotitan and more than ten thousand Cybertronian citizens from their home world had been no small feat. Hope and pride rose up at the thought. He clung to it, a handhold to steady himself in the dark wake of his nightmare, and a reminder of the bright future they could have here on the planet they'd come to call Theophany. 

Wing held strong to that notion and the railing under his palms, now warmed by his touch. The discipline and conviction that was part of his knight's calling served him well in this too, as he willed his ventilations to slow with gradual effort, moments passing as the shivering rattle of his plating lessened, the frantic whorl of his spark calming little by little. The fierce grip of his digits relaxed and his wings eased out of their tight pinch at his back, flight panels rustling to shake out the tension.

It had been a long time since he'd had one of these episodes. Long ago, Wing had struggled and grown beyond this. Past the event that nearly ended his life but instead changed it forever; the event that brought him to the Circle, and that had opened his eyes to his own power and agency. 

Why was it happening again now, thousands of years later, and after hundreds of years in the close quarters of their ship's fleet? Wing could only guess that the constant movement of the traveling ship and the proximity to Metrotitan's nascent EM field had been differentiating factors. Now, settled underground with many metric kilos of solid mountain above them, the cavern felt tight, close and dark like the ship never had.

His flight panels trembled again as memories threatened to resurface. He shook his helm once, defiant and determined, a mantra coming to his lips like a well-known lifeline. After several minutes of the active vocal meditation he found balance and calm, within and without. Heat eased from opened vents and plating settled from its roused state. True comfort still eluded him though, and the dark recesses of the shared hab behind him held no promises. Excess energy crawled over his frame, and his flight panels flicked again as if to remind him they were still there.

"I'm not going to recharge like this," he murmured, accepting it and making a choice. Allowing himself to give in to his need to <i>move</i>.

One pede was on the balcony railing and then Wing was freefalling before he knew it. Air whistled through his flight panels, unfurled to slow him but turbines dormant lest he wake his neighboring knights. With one brief flare of his back thrusters, he touched softly down outside the knighthood's temporary living quarters, the rush of freefall briefly clearing the dark memory artifacts from his processing cache.

The jet set off immediately, picking a direction at random with a brisk pace. He soon found himself enroute to the shipyard. Unsurprising. It was the largest open Cybertronian-constructed space in the new settlement, where many crafts in their fleet were being dismantled and recycled for building materials. And then beyond it, the surface access, originally large enough to dock Metrotitan but growing smaller each day as they secured their safe haven against the brutal world beyond. 

Wing's mental exercise of being present kept his thoughts from wandering to the source of his former distress, but it only gave him the briefest of warnings that he wasn't alone in the darkened shipyard. He turned a corner hastily and ran straight into the hulking frame that was Axe, the Circle's Second. Wing pulled up short with a lurch, running lights giving a startled flicker, bracing a hand on Axe's chestplates just as the big mech's digits gripped his shoulder nacelles to study him. 

"Whoa there lad," gasped the larger knight, "What's the rush? Not too many demands in the middle of the night cycle..."

Wing ex-vented his startlement, optics tracking away as he collected himself. It was too late to reign in his EM field, so instead he tried to still it. 

"Trouble recharging," He said truthfully, his voice lacking its usual serene quality. "Needed to get some air."

"Get some air?" Axe questioned lightly, one optic ridge rising as he tilted his helm. Wing nodded silently. Axe regarded him, and Wing could feel the inquiring brush of Axe's EM field. He knew Axe would detect the subtle disruptions in his field; would recognize them for what they were.

"Fluxes again?" his friend and past mentor asked finally. A wordless nod from Wing, the pinions on his nacelles slicking down. Axe rumbled his understanding. "It's been quite a while...."

Wing sighed through tired vents, taking comfort in Axe's supportive grip. "New planet, new habitation..." He met Axe's optics. The big mech knew him better than most; had been a part of his journey from the start. "I will adapt as I have before."

Axe's expression of concern morphed into hope that buoyed them both. "That's the way, lad. I'm always here for ye, too. And I'll put a word in with the foreman, get one of the terrace habs reserved for ye. Should help."

"Thank you, friend." Wing smiled, gratitude growing in his field. "It'll be a while yet before those accommodations are complete though. The solar array needs to come first, and fortifications...."

"Aye. And well, I just came from locking down the new security bulwark and bypass tunnels. The codes are just a precaution for now, but anyone entering or leaving will need them for access."

Wing's gaze was still and unwavering as he processed the disappointment that grew from that statement. Then, a ping on his HUD. He accepted the incoming data burst and opened the file: to find the aforementioned access codes.

Wing's optics took on new light and he let a new wave of gratitude roll through his field. His helm bowed slightly. "You honor me with your trust."

The large black hand still in comfortable residence on his shoulder nacelle gave it a pat that was both solace and parting gesture. "Don't spend too long 'getting some air'," Axe's mouth quirked knowingly, "We may be alone on this remote planet, but ye never know when someone else will decide it's a great hiding place, too."