How'd you get this?
Send me “How’d you get this?” For my muses reaction to yours tracing one of their scars and asking how they got it.
Prowl lacked the scarring that many of his allies && enemies possessed. He rarely saw battlefields personally && always buffed out what he could, a habit developed in Petrex, where scars were frowned upon && wounds were always treated immediately. Yet there were still some that never healed right, including one in particular at the base of his helm, that Barricade was currently tracing over.
It ran across the base, long && thin, with signs that someone had once tried to treat it. It was precise && given by a skilled servo, but even still Prowl choked back an ashamed keen && moved from the gentle touches of his partner. He lifted a servo, sliding his palm over the marred metal in an attempt to hid it before speaking, voice slow && quiet.
“My processor upgrades were not installed through programming,” his words felt more like a sickened confession than a story. “It was a new procedure at the time–the surgeon didn’t quite know what he was doing, && I was in stasis at the time. I was receiving treatment for it, but… Iacon purchased my contract before it could be completed.”
