#princely status

[princeofdarkmount]

Тьфу, ты можешь быть более отвратительным?

[princeofdarkmount]

| There’s something particularly awful about watching things unfold from a distance... and being unable to help. Especially in a way that matters. |

| ... | | It’s rare. But it happens. | | When the prince is feeling lost and alone, he’ll find someplace quiet- a room with no other occupants, and shut himself inside. There he’ll find a perch, place himself upon it... and start to think. Eventually when the thinking becomes too much to bear, he turns to an older habit from older times... humming. | | The tune could be anything... a lullaby from sols long past, a bar round he’s heard his carrier recite, one of the many vosian ballads he caught his Sire belting in the bath- anything. | | Today he settles on something else. It’s not quite old, but not new either. Sources credit it as a song wrote sometime during the early stages of New Cybertron’s development- many years before the princelit would be born. It speaks of unity, of standing side by side when the odds are all against you and facing it all together.. | | ... | | In otherwords it’s cliche’ and schmaltzy as pit, but... it gets the point across. | | Arkaitimus starts off low, voice all but a rumble in the back of his intakes. As he gets further into the song though, the words become more defined and clearer- until eventually he’s quietly singing along to the beat playing in his helm- | “You’re not alone. There’s no doubt... your effort is not in vain. If we stand united, We're stronger together. We always have the high hope, Not ‘one shall fall’, but, 'all shall rise’..” “Don't worry 'bout a thing, We'll reach out to you. Even if it's a harder way, It's plain to see the reason why, Oh, that's all because of your mighty spirit.” “Always remember doubt is natural, and we'll be there if you need help. Far across the distance, rest assured that our strength just won't die...... ♫” 

[princeofdarkmount]

| Being called a ‘favorite’ by the chaos bringer does not get any less unsettling even after hearing it multiple times. |

[princeofdarkmount]

| ... all this talk of food is making him crave those ener-buns he, Sandcrest and Rigel chowed down on at Sanctuary’s Clover Festival last week. | | They smelled terrible, but the filling was delicious. |

[princeofdarkmount]

I see the datanet is alight with the usual... ‘antics’.

[princeofdarkmount]

| Nothing like having someone you were ‘close’ with go missing for months only to show back up and have no idea who you are. | | Or learn that the package addressed to you and one of your guardsmech was actually an EMP bomb in disguise... with the heavy implication that it was only sent to you because of your affiliation with a certain social chat. Factor this all in with being on house arrest and having his communications stripped and heavily filtered due to stealing the phase shifter in order to 'safely remove’ a certain idiot from a wall- | | And needless to say the last decacycle hasn’t been going too great for the princelit. |

[princeofdarkmount]

For the record- Smokescreen is more durable than he looks. And he makes funny noises when he hits things. So throwing him around would be fairly cathartic... 

[princeofdarkmount]

Secrecy in Shadows;

| The realization of his mistake comes too late. | | It’s only when one.. then two..  three users pop up with similar declarations of shock horror of his lineage that fear grips Arkaitimus’ spark and sinks into him like a vice. |

| The second the chat starts to flood with text, he exits the Sanctuary Social app, not bothering to read anymore of the messages that pop up. His talons strike the screen with such force it cracks in multiple places and splinters into cobwebs. The damage is severe but not unfixable... | | ... at least until the princelit throws the device into a wall and shatters it, sending shards of glass and cybernetic components skidding across the floor. | | The sense of foreboding in his chamber whips his core into a tight agonizing spin, his churning tanks threatening to add it’s contents to the mess at his pedes. Sensing his distress, his internal fans click on to their highest setting and blast rapidly heating air from his frame. | | It does nothing to soothe the wave of panic overtaking him. | | He backs into another wall, optics wide and unfocused, and lets himself slide down the surface. Down... down all the way until his aft makes contact with the ground. From there he brings his knees up to his chassis and clutches at his helm with his talons, moisture building in the corners of his optical lenses. |

| A single thought repeats over and over through his processor as Ark struggles and fails to calm himself down- |

| ‘They know.’ |

| They know, they know, they know, they know, they know- | | Unable to take the pressure, coolent capillaries burst and send a stream of silver trickling down his cheeks. The prince lets a single hitch leave his intakes before preemptively burying his face into his struts to help muffle his sobbing. | - | Lost in his grief, Arkaitimus fails to notice the shadow lurking nearby... until a pair of tendrils start to slide up his sides and wrap around his middle. | | Fear seizes his spark a second time and he raises a servo to claw the appendages off- only to stop and lower it when the familiarity of midnight blue plating and purple biolights clicks in his processor. A pulse of violet flashes down the stilled tendril, accented by a nudge at the edge of his consciousness; a silent inquiry for permission. | | Ark hesitates a moment, then nods. | | Another mental caress and the tendrils slowly tighten. The youngling whimpers, but otherwise doesn’t struggle, even as the ‘eyes and ears of the Decepticons’ lifts him from the filthy floor, hoists him into the air, and brings him close with startlingly ease. | 

| A blank mask is all Ark sees when he chances a glance upwards. He studies his reflection in the obsidian visor, smeared and ruined optic liner, dim barely glowing biolights and all. Primus he looked so pathetic, no wonder Soundwave was being ‘nice’. | | As if sensing his thoughts, the spymaster’s helm tilted up a few degrees, prompting Ark to drop his gaze and let his helm fall. There’s a lengthy bit of silence before a new question ‘appears’ in his processor. Again, the spymaster ‘asks’ before acting. And once more Arkaitimus says ‘yes’. |

| Seemingly satisfied, Soundwave pulls the mechling to his chassis, close enough to touch if needed, but not enough to smother him. Once sure their newfound charge was secure, the cobalt mech pivoted on their heel with unnatural grace and started down the hall towards the lift.. | | A ping was sent to a nearby Eradicon to come sweep up the broken datapad and deliver the pieces to Soundwave’s office. | | They would transfer the data into a new tablet and present it to Arkaitimus once he was ready. For now though, their prince needed time and rest in the privacy of his own room, and New Cybertron’s communications handler was going to ensure that. |