Trinkets (An ongoing series for the PxJ September Challenge)
Title: Trinkets 1/?
By: gilded_orchid
Rating: PG
Universe: G1/Alignment-verse AU
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Smokescreen, Mirage, Firestar. Brief mentions of Tracks, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Blaster.
Content: Pre-war AU gossip, the opening stages of some world-building that will be expanded upon in later pieces, and brief references to lusty shenanigans, though nothing detailed. Nothing to be too wary of, really.
Wordcount: 2735
Notes: The prompts involved with this are Someting To Talk About and Black. Feral plot bunnies came out of nowhere and bit *hard* this time around. Since this is pre-war, I'm operating under the idea that the personalities of the transformers we all know and love haven't been fully solidified yet, because war changes a being. As the posts progress though, I'll be spinning them closer to characterizations. I don't think it's too far off *now*, but better warned than surprised. (Btw, mod gang, does there need to be an Alignment-verse tag or can I sneak by without one?)
//Bond Speak//
"Mmmm...." Firestar scrutinized her latest client with a frown, her brilliant blue optics dimming in thought.
Prowl, unused to and somewhat unsettled by such direct scrutiny, subtly shifted his posture to make himself seem more imposing. It didn't work at all, and he soon found himself indulging the most common tactic of the nervous: bluster. Optics narrowed, tone frosty and just this side of civil, Prowl glowered down at the slight femme who was circling him like a sharkticon before the kill. "Is there a problem?"
Utterly unintimidated, Firestar came to a stop and shrugged eloquently. "Your black. It's all wrong."
"My paint scheme is wrong?" Bluster gave way to much more natural indignation, and Prowl's doorwings hiked upwards.
A sharp digit flicked towards different regions of Prowl's darker plating. "Black is always a bit conservative, but you're a Lord Marshall of the Praxian Enforcers; serious and conventional is what you do. However, it doesn't fit the image of a mech who outmaneuvers a Towers noble on the social battleground, steals the Alpha Maestro himself right out of his grasp and then disappears into the night after seducing said mech--and a good third of the nearby crowd."
Noble mech? He had Smokescreen report in on the known VIPs, and he'd made note of all noble mechs in attendance! He'd yet to encounter any, as a matter of fact! And although he'd heard of the Alpha Maestro--who in the entirety of the Tri-States (or on Cybertron, for that matter) hadn't--he certainly hadn't seduced anyone, much less a crowd!
A rather gloomy hint of resignation settled on his frame as he braced himself for the worst. "And society gossip being what it is, I suppose various iterations of this tale have hit as far as Iacon by now?"
"There and back again!" Firestar chirped. "It's exciting! When word circulated that Praxus was sending us one of the Lords Marshall to oversee their Tribute, we were expecting some horrible fuss-bot that would spend most of their time complaining about the festivities and looking down on us like we were degenerates. Instead of that, we got you, and the hottest story to hit Protihex since Sentinel Prime found out the sparkling wasn't his!"
Something, somewhere, had gone horribly awry in this miserable spectacle, and he wasn't quite sure where to begin, or whom to blame.
"Well, to business!" Firestar straightened, pulling a sample ring of black color swathes from her subspace."It was a smart opening move, enticing the Alpha Maestro but not pressing your suit too much. This is Protihex, however, and the little things matter the most. Your black doesn't suit, so we'll reprogram your nano-chromites."
Prowl snapped out of his perplexed horror and right back into his state of indignation. "My black is perfectly fine! I merely requested a grooming, not a color procedure!"
Firestar looked appalled. "You Praxians are all alike! Terrors, each of you, running to a wash rack and slapping on a layer of wax and calling the job done! Well, you won't come to an Incandesca salon and receive such poor treatment, especially mine. Savant Tracks would have me cast out entirely, his Second or no!"
Prowl, at the end of his patience with Protihex, high-strung guild bots, their antics and of feeling one step behind in every interaction, drew himself up to full height and glared. "Wash and wax, like I ordered."
Firestar sneered. "Solus hang your orders, sir. This is my domain of expertise, and you will do as I say. Or were you tutored exclusively on color theory and maintenance for 20 vorns?" She stepped into Prowl's personal space, and he had but a brief moment to wonder how a bot shorter than him managed to loom so impressively before she barged ahead. "Did the Guild Master of Incandesca himself personally tutor you in the art of nano-chromite programming since you were a youngling and cram a thousand and one treatises on the proper way to care for a frame since you were young enough to understand what aesthetic philosophy was?"
He most certainly did not tremble. Not at all.
“Are you the foremost colorist this generation of Cybertronians has produced? No? Then perhaps you should do what I say, and stop being difficult!”
Prowl subsided.
Firmly in control, Firestar began to circle around Prowl once more, shifting him about in order to catch different angles of lighting as she flipped through her color ring. She grumbled a moment, then produced another sample, this one shades of white, and began to match color samples against each other. It was a long, quiet, moment in time, before Firestar trilled softly. "Your white falls into perfect parameters for classification as White Smoke, so you need a more subtle shade of black to blend with it. Something a bit softer, that blends more and isn't such a stark contrast. A black that's a bit more mysterious with its tinting, but still strong..."
Prowl didn't even pretend to understand what Firestar was saying, instead focusing on the myriad of ways he was going to murder Smokescreen for telling him this was a good idea later. Besides, Firestar was obviously Working right now, and he knew from long experience that it was just easier to let a bot possessed by their function have their way; it went easier for everyone involved.
"We'll base this with pure black, and blend in silver for the undertones and use a bit of tint for the highlights...perhaps a deep cyan for the upper tint.." Firestar continued to muse on color mixtures as she walked over to the far wall and began to key in a long line of code and color percentages on the unobtrusive console stationed there.
While she worked, Prowl took the opportunity to reflect on the previous cycle, then decided to comm Smokescreen. If the rumors were even remotely true, Smokescreen would know the most accurate story, and he could work from there.
//Smokescreen.//
No reply.
//Smokescreen.//
"Lord Marshall, if you could please lay down on the berth? I have the nano-chromites prepped?" Firestar waved an injector in the empty space between them. "You may power down if you choose; this will take two joors to complete. This injection will deactivate your current nano-chromites, and replace them with these.”
Prowl obeyed, letting Firestar finish the last of her preparations before throwing open the kin-bond he shared with Smokescreen once more and flooding it with the full force of the irritation he'd developed as the current cycle had progressed. //Answer me, you rotten fragger!//
//WHAT?!//
//Ah. There you are.//
Grumpy impatience colored their bond, and he could almost feel Smokescreen glowering at him. //I happened across a very feisty set of twins. Twins, and you are cutting in on my cultural research!//
//Cultural research? Is that what they're calling it now?//
//The gold one is better looking than you, and the red one knows how to do this trick with his glossa that's probably illegal in seven city-states. Goodbye.//
//Wait! I need your help!//
A wave of disbelief flowed rose in reply to his admission. //You had the Alpha Maestro himself ready to jump your struts. You don't need anyone's help right now. Why are you even bothering me!? Shouldn't you be, you know, indisposed?//
//I am indisposed. This harridan forced a nano-chromite procedure on me, and I just found out that I--//
//Nano-chromite procedure? You went to the Incandesca salons?// A mixture of awe, pride, and amusement spiraled down from Smokescreen's end of the kin-bond. //You seriously mean to see this thing you started with the Alpha Maestro through, don't you?//
There were few things Prowl truly hated, but being uninformed about things that concerned him? Especially of this magnitude? If he still had control of his motor functions, he’d almost be ready to have a fit. As it was, Smokescreen’s question only served to increase his ire. //Am I the only mech that didn't know that was the Alpha Maestro?! I don't even remember doing anything unusual last cycle!//
//....wait. How do you of all mechs not remember something of the magnitude you pulled? I've been hearing gossip all cycle long about how you and the Alpha Maestro must have been secret lovers, given the way you two were carrying on, and that there will probably be a duel between you and Lord Mirage and--//
//DUEL?//
//Well, that piece of gossip is new, and I wouldn't put much stock in it yet, but you were pretty bold last cycle. Lord Mirage might have to duel you, just to save some face in all of this.//
//Bold? I was no such thing!//
// You ignored Lord Mirage from the moment you were introduced, got wrapped up in a private conversation with the Alpha Maestro, whom he has been pursuing for the last seven, maybe eight, stellar cycles come to find out, and spent the next three joors all cozy in a private corner dancing just a little too close, staring at each other just a little too long, and giving the rumor mill enough fodder to run itself for the next three decacycles.//
Prowl's frustration rode along their bond and he longed to hit something. //Smokescreen, the only mechs I encountered last cycle after you abandoned me to chase after those twins called themselves Ligier and Meister.//
The kin-bond quieted for a long moment, during which time Prowl resoundly cursed the moment he agreed to go to Protihex. Smokescreen's familiar presence returned before he got too far, rife with amusement at his expense.
//Wow. Sideswipe says those are nicknames Lord Mirage and the Alpha Maestro used when they were younglings trying to sneak into places they had no business being. Its 'become a sort of Protihexian in-joke, apparently.//
//That's very nice, but I'M NOT PROTIHEXIAN, SMOKESCREEN.//
//Well, look at it this way. You are pursuing the most sought-after mech in all of Protihex, and probably half of Cybertron, and he didn't shoot you down from square one by pulling rank on you. It's a good sign.//
//Primus...// Prowl didn't even bother to point out the flaws in Smokescreen's logic, instead focusing on a more horrifying reality. //Mech, I arranged to have a courting gift sent to Meister after we left the Fountain Gardens.//
//...you did what?//
//I...it was impulsive, yes, but I couldn't bear the thought of letting a mech like that slip through my grasp so I decided to officially offer suit. It's not terribly uncommon during this sort of thing.//
//Primus. Well little brother, the way I see it, you can try and clear up the misunderstanding, or brazen this out. Either way, this has got to be the most entertaining thing I've heard since that whole fiasco about Sentinel Prime finding out the sparkling wasn't his.//
Prowl made a mental note to revisit his thoughts on fratricide.//Your sentiments are spark-warming. Truly they are.//
//Your sarcasm isn't going to do you a bit of good right now, you realize? Now, what are you going to do?//
A good question, and one he had only just begun to brave contemplating. //I...I don't know yet. I’m thinking things through.//
//Well, let me know when you figure it out. In the meantime, I've been an exceptionally poor host to these lovely mechs here, and I need to make my apologies. Repeatedly.//
//Please, don't share.// Prowl recoiled a bit from their connection, happily giving Smokescreen his privacy.
A final brush of amusement worked its way along their kin-bond (along with some lusty intent he really could have done without) and then Smokescreen's presence faded, leaving Prowl along with his thoughts, and a few itchy sensors as the nano-chromites did their work.
Ignoring the fact that Meister was in fact Jazz, the Alpha Maestro, Protihex's best musician and guild master of Choragus, Prowl had to admit to himself nothing had changed. The mech he'd spent the last cycle with had been exceptionally charming, a fantastic conversationalist, quick-witted, and full of hidden facets he looked forward to discovering. He'd had no doubt the mech was attracted to him, and he himself was quite...smitten. He could admit that to himself. Now, all he needed to do was figure out just what he was going to do next.
"...oh, he's good."
Mirage's quiet murmur jolted Jazz out of his stunned contemplation, and he passed the datapad on his desk to Mirage before reaching out to pick up the large, flawlessly cut orb of exceedingly rare black Praxian crystal that was resting on a bed of soft cloth.
This was practically unheard of. Praxian crystal of that quality, that quantity, was hard to come by, and Prowl had procured it quickly and...and..Jazz's engine purred as he turned the crystal this way and that, letting the light refract off and though it. He'd thought the crystal damaged after all, but it was instead beautifully precise internal etching, causing the shadows produced from it to resemble their silhouette, locked in a dance.
"...very, very good." Mirage looked down at the data pad again. Memory lingers, but even the fondest reveries pale against reality. Shall we dance again? Prowl.
Jazz was staring off into the dusk shadows that now covered his wall, quite obviously revisiting that aforementioned memory.
"Take the mech up on his offer."
Jazz looked incredulously back at his long-time friend. "*You* are okay with this?"
Mirage made a non-committal noise as he reached for Jazz's prized bottle of vintage Blue Solus. "You are a prize, no doubt, but I have options." Mirage let the glowing blue energon swirl around in the bottle, letting the silver beads of mercury thoroughly mix through the refined high-grade before pouring it into a small cube. "Tracks, for one, is always a good time, and I hear that Smokescreen is attending the Revels. I've been intending to cross his path for a while..."
"One, Smokescreen is Prowl's brother, so that has the potential to be awkward. Two, Smokescreen's been working his way through Abstractia this Revel season. Their guild master spent all last cycle whining about how the mech absconded with his prize adept."
Mirage smirked. "Was that before or after you outright jilted me to go swoon over the Lord Marshall?"
Jazz scoffed, still preoccupied with the black crystal that had been delivered to him. "I would feel much more guilty if I didn't know for a fact you weren't using me to make Tracks jealous."
"It wasn't just Tracks, to be fair. Well, that Blaster looks like he could be interesting...he was so adorably smitten, and his paint would look rather fascinating mixed with mine and Tracks'..."
Jazz shook his head. "Planning on returning to the Towers utterly debauched, are you?"
Mirage looked disgusted as he finished his energon and poured himself another cube. "Primus knows it won't happen there. I have never dealt with a more repressed, utterly miserable batch of noble mechs. I never should have left Crystal City."
Jazz plucked the datapad out of Mirage's hands and made a careless shooing motion before the mech really got going. Mirage wasn’t necessarily a whiner, per say, but the mech had a tendency to hate wherever he was, and then wax poetic about it as if it were paradise when he finally left. Eventually, the mech would probably up and leave Cybertron entirely, and then sped the next 29, 30 stellar cycles complaining about it. Probably to him, knowing his luck. "Blaster is in one of the practice halls right now, working on his master piece. I’ll need him back the cycle after next. Now go, play. I need to finish Choragus’ Tribute piece."
Mirage stood to go, then paused. "You know, you *do* owe me a favor. The rumor mill is having its own merry way with my reputation right now."
"Your reputation is fine, and you know it. But if you must, you can make up something to save your precious dignity. Tell them you were planning to leave me for Tracks anyway. It’s not too far from the actual truth, and maybe the mech will stop moping about. It’s just sad now."
Mirage had to agree. The melodramatic looks Tracks had sent his way last cycle were enough to churn a mech’s tanks. He’d obviously punished the mech enough.“And when they ask about you?"
Jazz considered. "You may tell them...the Alpha Maestro is intrigued."
By: gilded_orchid
Rating: PG
Universe: G1/Alignment-verse AU
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Smokescreen, Mirage, Firestar. Brief mentions of Tracks, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Blaster.
Content: Pre-war AU gossip, the opening stages of some world-building that will be expanded upon in later pieces, and brief references to lusty shenanigans, though nothing detailed. Nothing to be too wary of, really.
Wordcount: 2735
Notes: The prompts involved with this are Someting To Talk About and Black. Feral plot bunnies came out of nowhere and bit *hard* this time around. Since this is pre-war, I'm operating under the idea that the personalities of the transformers we all know and love haven't been fully solidified yet, because war changes a being. As the posts progress though, I'll be spinning them closer to characterizations. I don't think it's too far off *now*, but better warned than surprised. (Btw, mod gang, does there need to be an Alignment-verse tag or can I sneak by without one?)
//Bond Speak//
"Mmmm...." Firestar scrutinized her latest client with a frown, her brilliant blue optics dimming in thought.
Prowl, unused to and somewhat unsettled by such direct scrutiny, subtly shifted his posture to make himself seem more imposing. It didn't work at all, and he soon found himself indulging the most common tactic of the nervous: bluster. Optics narrowed, tone frosty and just this side of civil, Prowl glowered down at the slight femme who was circling him like a sharkticon before the kill. "Is there a problem?"
Utterly unintimidated, Firestar came to a stop and shrugged eloquently. "Your black. It's all wrong."
"My paint scheme is wrong?" Bluster gave way to much more natural indignation, and Prowl's doorwings hiked upwards.
A sharp digit flicked towards different regions of Prowl's darker plating. "Black is always a bit conservative, but you're a Lord Marshall of the Praxian Enforcers; serious and conventional is what you do. However, it doesn't fit the image of a mech who outmaneuvers a Towers noble on the social battleground, steals the Alpha Maestro himself right out of his grasp and then disappears into the night after seducing said mech--and a good third of the nearby crowd."
Noble mech? He had Smokescreen report in on the known VIPs, and he'd made note of all noble mechs in attendance! He'd yet to encounter any, as a matter of fact! And although he'd heard of the Alpha Maestro--who in the entirety of the Tri-States (or on Cybertron, for that matter) hadn't--he certainly hadn't seduced anyone, much less a crowd!
A rather gloomy hint of resignation settled on his frame as he braced himself for the worst. "And society gossip being what it is, I suppose various iterations of this tale have hit as far as Iacon by now?"
"There and back again!" Firestar chirped. "It's exciting! When word circulated that Praxus was sending us one of the Lords Marshall to oversee their Tribute, we were expecting some horrible fuss-bot that would spend most of their time complaining about the festivities and looking down on us like we were degenerates. Instead of that, we got you, and the hottest story to hit Protihex since Sentinel Prime found out the sparkling wasn't his!"
Something, somewhere, had gone horribly awry in this miserable spectacle, and he wasn't quite sure where to begin, or whom to blame.
"Well, to business!" Firestar straightened, pulling a sample ring of black color swathes from her subspace."It was a smart opening move, enticing the Alpha Maestro but not pressing your suit too much. This is Protihex, however, and the little things matter the most. Your black doesn't suit, so we'll reprogram your nano-chromites."
Prowl snapped out of his perplexed horror and right back into his state of indignation. "My black is perfectly fine! I merely requested a grooming, not a color procedure!"
Firestar looked appalled. "You Praxians are all alike! Terrors, each of you, running to a wash rack and slapping on a layer of wax and calling the job done! Well, you won't come to an Incandesca salon and receive such poor treatment, especially mine. Savant Tracks would have me cast out entirely, his Second or no!"
Prowl, at the end of his patience with Protihex, high-strung guild bots, their antics and of feeling one step behind in every interaction, drew himself up to full height and glared. "Wash and wax, like I ordered."
Firestar sneered. "Solus hang your orders, sir. This is my domain of expertise, and you will do as I say. Or were you tutored exclusively on color theory and maintenance for 20 vorns?" She stepped into Prowl's personal space, and he had but a brief moment to wonder how a bot shorter than him managed to loom so impressively before she barged ahead. "Did the Guild Master of Incandesca himself personally tutor you in the art of nano-chromite programming since you were a youngling and cram a thousand and one treatises on the proper way to care for a frame since you were young enough to understand what aesthetic philosophy was?"
He most certainly did not tremble. Not at all.
“Are you the foremost colorist this generation of Cybertronians has produced? No? Then perhaps you should do what I say, and stop being difficult!”
Prowl subsided.
Firmly in control, Firestar began to circle around Prowl once more, shifting him about in order to catch different angles of lighting as she flipped through her color ring. She grumbled a moment, then produced another sample, this one shades of white, and began to match color samples against each other. It was a long, quiet, moment in time, before Firestar trilled softly. "Your white falls into perfect parameters for classification as White Smoke, so you need a more subtle shade of black to blend with it. Something a bit softer, that blends more and isn't such a stark contrast. A black that's a bit more mysterious with its tinting, but still strong..."
Prowl didn't even pretend to understand what Firestar was saying, instead focusing on the myriad of ways he was going to murder Smokescreen for telling him this was a good idea later. Besides, Firestar was obviously Working right now, and he knew from long experience that it was just easier to let a bot possessed by their function have their way; it went easier for everyone involved.
"We'll base this with pure black, and blend in silver for the undertones and use a bit of tint for the highlights...perhaps a deep cyan for the upper tint.." Firestar continued to muse on color mixtures as she walked over to the far wall and began to key in a long line of code and color percentages on the unobtrusive console stationed there.
While she worked, Prowl took the opportunity to reflect on the previous cycle, then decided to comm Smokescreen. If the rumors were even remotely true, Smokescreen would know the most accurate story, and he could work from there.
//Smokescreen.//
No reply.
//Smokescreen.//
"Lord Marshall, if you could please lay down on the berth? I have the nano-chromites prepped?" Firestar waved an injector in the empty space between them. "You may power down if you choose; this will take two joors to complete. This injection will deactivate your current nano-chromites, and replace them with these.”
Prowl obeyed, letting Firestar finish the last of her preparations before throwing open the kin-bond he shared with Smokescreen once more and flooding it with the full force of the irritation he'd developed as the current cycle had progressed. //Answer me, you rotten fragger!//
//WHAT?!//
//Ah. There you are.//
Grumpy impatience colored their bond, and he could almost feel Smokescreen glowering at him. //I happened across a very feisty set of twins. Twins, and you are cutting in on my cultural research!//
//Cultural research? Is that what they're calling it now?//
//The gold one is better looking than you, and the red one knows how to do this trick with his glossa that's probably illegal in seven city-states. Goodbye.//
//Wait! I need your help!//
A wave of disbelief flowed rose in reply to his admission. //You had the Alpha Maestro himself ready to jump your struts. You don't need anyone's help right now. Why are you even bothering me!? Shouldn't you be, you know, indisposed?//
//I am indisposed. This harridan forced a nano-chromite procedure on me, and I just found out that I--//
//Nano-chromite procedure? You went to the Incandesca salons?// A mixture of awe, pride, and amusement spiraled down from Smokescreen's end of the kin-bond. //You seriously mean to see this thing you started with the Alpha Maestro through, don't you?//
There were few things Prowl truly hated, but being uninformed about things that concerned him? Especially of this magnitude? If he still had control of his motor functions, he’d almost be ready to have a fit. As it was, Smokescreen’s question only served to increase his ire. //Am I the only mech that didn't know that was the Alpha Maestro?! I don't even remember doing anything unusual last cycle!//
//....wait. How do you of all mechs not remember something of the magnitude you pulled? I've been hearing gossip all cycle long about how you and the Alpha Maestro must have been secret lovers, given the way you two were carrying on, and that there will probably be a duel between you and Lord Mirage and--//
//DUEL?//
//Well, that piece of gossip is new, and I wouldn't put much stock in it yet, but you were pretty bold last cycle. Lord Mirage might have to duel you, just to save some face in all of this.//
//Bold? I was no such thing!//
// You ignored Lord Mirage from the moment you were introduced, got wrapped up in a private conversation with the Alpha Maestro, whom he has been pursuing for the last seven, maybe eight, stellar cycles come to find out, and spent the next three joors all cozy in a private corner dancing just a little too close, staring at each other just a little too long, and giving the rumor mill enough fodder to run itself for the next three decacycles.//
Prowl's frustration rode along their bond and he longed to hit something. //Smokescreen, the only mechs I encountered last cycle after you abandoned me to chase after those twins called themselves Ligier and Meister.//
The kin-bond quieted for a long moment, during which time Prowl resoundly cursed the moment he agreed to go to Protihex. Smokescreen's familiar presence returned before he got too far, rife with amusement at his expense.
//Wow. Sideswipe says those are nicknames Lord Mirage and the Alpha Maestro used when they were younglings trying to sneak into places they had no business being. Its 'become a sort of Protihexian in-joke, apparently.//
//That's very nice, but I'M NOT PROTIHEXIAN, SMOKESCREEN.//
//Well, look at it this way. You are pursuing the most sought-after mech in all of Protihex, and probably half of Cybertron, and he didn't shoot you down from square one by pulling rank on you. It's a good sign.//
//Primus...// Prowl didn't even bother to point out the flaws in Smokescreen's logic, instead focusing on a more horrifying reality. //Mech, I arranged to have a courting gift sent to Meister after we left the Fountain Gardens.//
//...you did what?//
//I...it was impulsive, yes, but I couldn't bear the thought of letting a mech like that slip through my grasp so I decided to officially offer suit. It's not terribly uncommon during this sort of thing.//
//Primus. Well little brother, the way I see it, you can try and clear up the misunderstanding, or brazen this out. Either way, this has got to be the most entertaining thing I've heard since that whole fiasco about Sentinel Prime finding out the sparkling wasn't his.//
Prowl made a mental note to revisit his thoughts on fratricide.//Your sentiments are spark-warming. Truly they are.//
//Your sarcasm isn't going to do you a bit of good right now, you realize? Now, what are you going to do?//
A good question, and one he had only just begun to brave contemplating. //I...I don't know yet. I’m thinking things through.//
//Well, let me know when you figure it out. In the meantime, I've been an exceptionally poor host to these lovely mechs here, and I need to make my apologies. Repeatedly.//
//Please, don't share.// Prowl recoiled a bit from their connection, happily giving Smokescreen his privacy.
A final brush of amusement worked its way along their kin-bond (along with some lusty intent he really could have done without) and then Smokescreen's presence faded, leaving Prowl along with his thoughts, and a few itchy sensors as the nano-chromites did their work.
Ignoring the fact that Meister was in fact Jazz, the Alpha Maestro, Protihex's best musician and guild master of Choragus, Prowl had to admit to himself nothing had changed. The mech he'd spent the last cycle with had been exceptionally charming, a fantastic conversationalist, quick-witted, and full of hidden facets he looked forward to discovering. He'd had no doubt the mech was attracted to him, and he himself was quite...smitten. He could admit that to himself. Now, all he needed to do was figure out just what he was going to do next.
"...oh, he's good."
Mirage's quiet murmur jolted Jazz out of his stunned contemplation, and he passed the datapad on his desk to Mirage before reaching out to pick up the large, flawlessly cut orb of exceedingly rare black Praxian crystal that was resting on a bed of soft cloth.
This was practically unheard of. Praxian crystal of that quality, that quantity, was hard to come by, and Prowl had procured it quickly and...and..Jazz's engine purred as he turned the crystal this way and that, letting the light refract off and though it. He'd thought the crystal damaged after all, but it was instead beautifully precise internal etching, causing the shadows produced from it to resemble their silhouette, locked in a dance.
"...very, very good." Mirage looked down at the data pad again. Memory lingers, but even the fondest reveries pale against reality. Shall we dance again? Prowl.
Jazz was staring off into the dusk shadows that now covered his wall, quite obviously revisiting that aforementioned memory.
"Take the mech up on his offer."
Jazz looked incredulously back at his long-time friend. "*You* are okay with this?"
Mirage made a non-committal noise as he reached for Jazz's prized bottle of vintage Blue Solus. "You are a prize, no doubt, but I have options." Mirage let the glowing blue energon swirl around in the bottle, letting the silver beads of mercury thoroughly mix through the refined high-grade before pouring it into a small cube. "Tracks, for one, is always a good time, and I hear that Smokescreen is attending the Revels. I've been intending to cross his path for a while..."
"One, Smokescreen is Prowl's brother, so that has the potential to be awkward. Two, Smokescreen's been working his way through Abstractia this Revel season. Their guild master spent all last cycle whining about how the mech absconded with his prize adept."
Mirage smirked. "Was that before or after you outright jilted me to go swoon over the Lord Marshall?"
Jazz scoffed, still preoccupied with the black crystal that had been delivered to him. "I would feel much more guilty if I didn't know for a fact you weren't using me to make Tracks jealous."
"It wasn't just Tracks, to be fair. Well, that Blaster looks like he could be interesting...he was so adorably smitten, and his paint would look rather fascinating mixed with mine and Tracks'..."
Jazz shook his head. "Planning on returning to the Towers utterly debauched, are you?"
Mirage looked disgusted as he finished his energon and poured himself another cube. "Primus knows it won't happen there. I have never dealt with a more repressed, utterly miserable batch of noble mechs. I never should have left Crystal City."
Jazz plucked the datapad out of Mirage's hands and made a careless shooing motion before the mech really got going. Mirage wasn’t necessarily a whiner, per say, but the mech had a tendency to hate wherever he was, and then wax poetic about it as if it were paradise when he finally left. Eventually, the mech would probably up and leave Cybertron entirely, and then sped the next 29, 30 stellar cycles complaining about it. Probably to him, knowing his luck. "Blaster is in one of the practice halls right now, working on his master piece. I’ll need him back the cycle after next. Now go, play. I need to finish Choragus’ Tribute piece."
Mirage stood to go, then paused. "You know, you *do* owe me a favor. The rumor mill is having its own merry way with my reputation right now."
"Your reputation is fine, and you know it. But if you must, you can make up something to save your precious dignity. Tell them you were planning to leave me for Tracks anyway. It’s not too far from the actual truth, and maybe the mech will stop moping about. It’s just sad now."
Mirage had to agree. The melodramatic looks Tracks had sent his way last cycle were enough to churn a mech’s tanks. He’d obviously punished the mech enough.“And when they ask about you?"
Jazz considered. "You may tell them...the Alpha Maestro is intrigued."