Have I really posted 800 times on this thing? Jeebus!
Title: Sparkless. (14/??)
Rating: R
Warnings: A bit of violence, angst, possible slashy goodness.
Characters: Trax, Jazz.
Setting: Movieverse AU.
Summary: In trying to live up to the name of his sire he gave his all, until he lost his own spark. Those who once loved him now called him "sparkless".
Notes: This is an AU bunny that belongs to snugsbunny, it's all her fault, I just happen to be the one writting it. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are hers and used with permission. This is a very AU fic so please take with a grain of salt.
Many thanks to mmouse15 for kindly beta reading this for me.
Being formally introduced to Lord Trax's staff had been like what Jazz imagined the first day at an education center had to be like. He hadn't felt this nervous even when he was first introduced to Lord Prowl's staff, even though that was as much a new experience as this. The weighty difference was perhaps in the fact he felt the bar was set high, and the staff would be judging him as the noblemech he was supposed to be now.
Thankfully that had gone well enough, and was given a proper tour around the house, coming to know every place and whatever function they had, if any. Jazz was then led towards a large room where two mechs awaited for him. They introduced themselves as Cutlass and Slipstream. Slipstream was like a much lean and lithe version of Starscream, her form didn't look nearly as bulky and did seem quite graceful. It was the deep scowl in her features that unnerved Jazz, and acutely reminded of the disapproving glare Starscream would throw at him and his friends whenever they did something he didn't like. Cutlass, on the other hand, was smiling pleasantly, his four optics bright amber with a friendly glint shining on them. His posture was staid and formal, but it had an air of relaxation, which made him a more welcoming sight.
"Jazz, these will be your tutors for the deca-cycles to come. Cutlass," Trax gestured towards the bigger mech, "Will be your personal tutor and will update you on your education to an advanced level. Slipstream will be your dancing instructor."
Jazz bowed politely to both mechs before turning his attention back to Trax. "Dancin' teacher?" the silver mech didn't miss the deepening of Slipstream's scowl as she heard his accent, clearly disapproving of it but Jazz choose to ignore it. "Why do I need a dancin' teacher?"
"I can answer to that." Slipstream spoke, and her voice was a little too high pitched yet a little raspy, not unlike Starscream's albeit far more tolerable. "It's a tradition to have any young nobles that become of age and are recognized as legal adults to be presented in society in a celebration in their honor. The mech is expected to engage in a specially choreographed dance for the occasion where he will be presented with gifts from several important noblemechs."
Trax hummed and turned his attention to Jazz. "As Slipstream has explained, to be given your proper place amongst the nobility, and to commemorate your coming of age, a celebration is being prepared. Slipstream will be in charge of the dance, selecting the melody and the proper choreography."
"I see." Jazz frowned but didn't say anything else. He was a fairly good dancer, perhaps then he could impress Slipstream and their interactions wouldn't be as bad as Jazz already feared they could be.
"I must attend to other business now, your classes will begin tomorrow." Trax nodded his thanks to the two instructors that bowed and left. "If you wish to go anywhere in town, you may go with one of my aides. I don't want you going anywhere alone until you've familiarized with the area."
"Alright grandfather. It's alright if I go lookin' fer somethin' in town? I promised Lord Prowl I'd verify the prices of some products he wants to purchase." Jazz followed his grandfather as the older mech left the room.
"Lord Prowl always has his business in the forefront of his processors, doesn't he?" Lord Trax quirked an optic ridge, smiling a little.
"He's th'Lord of Praxus after all, he's gotta keep his city an' his home runnin' smoothly." Jazz couldn't help but shrug a little, smiling back at the older mech.
"True. If you want to do so it's alright with me, but you must be careful and don't stay out too late." Trax trailed as he extracted a pad from subspace, beginning to review the pending work.
"I ain't a sparklin' anymore, grandfather, I know how ta take care o' myself." Jazz tried keeping his tone gentle, he didn't want to offend or upset his grandfather, but he didn't want the mech to think he needed to be coddled.
Trax shook his head, side glancing at the silver mech. "Yes, I know that. But this is your first cycle here, I'd rather if you took more precautions."
Jazz could understand the mech's point of view, but he didn't want Trax to think he was a sparkling that had to be taken everywhere or he'd get lost. "I'll be careful, an' I'll go with one of the aides, but I would like ta be able to go places by myself eventually."
"When you feel familiar enough with the area you may." Trax conceded, having to remind himself that jazz grew up in an orphanage and as one of Lord Prowl's employees, he had learned to get around in Praxus quickly. "Just be careful when you do, alright?"
"I promise I won't give ya reason ta worry about, grandfather." Jazz squeezed his grandfather's arm a little before he waved and hastened his steps, going to look for one of the servants to guide him around the shire. He didn't want to outright think of them as escorts, he really only wanted someone that could show him around, and to keep his grandfather's peace of CPU.
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Jazz wrote down a sum on a data pad after an employee in a warehouse informed him of the prices and deals their company offered for the product Jazz had inquired about. "Thanks for yer time!" he waved as he began to walk away, reviewing the different prices and deals he was offered by the companies he visited.
"Anywhere else you'd like to go, Lord Jazz?" the servant asked as they began to walk away.
Jazz flinched a little at the name, it was so easy to refer to others as Lords and Ladies, but when it applied to him it was just another reminder he wasn't a common mech anymore, and that he would be treated different. "Is there any place we can go ta have some energon? I could use a cube."
"I can take you to the café Lady Beat favored, they serve some of the highest quality mixtures you'll come across in the shire." the servant offered, his hand gesturing elegantly, showing that even the staff here behaved in a different way.
Jazz shifted uncomfortably. "I would prefer somethin' a little more discreet, and perhaps not nearly as expensive."
The servant quirked an optic ridge, his lips pulled back into a small scowl but he nodded and guided Jazz to a café, it was small and relative common looking, the benches while well kept and painted looked ordinary enough. "Is this to your liking, my Lord?"
"Yes, thank you." Jazz headed for the farther table, huddled in a corner and sat down, gesturing to the seat across from his own. The servant mech bowed but stood next to Jazz instead. "Ya won't be sittin'?"
"It's not proper."
Jazz had to resist the urge to heave a sigh, he didn't want to attract attention by having someone standing over him like the servant was. "Would it be proper if ya sat over on the other table? I don't want ta attract attention an' people will look if they see ya standin' over me like that."
"Of course, my lord."
Jazz watched the mech head for the table next to his own, of course he could understand in a way that the servant was conscious of their social differences, Jazz had been too when he worked for Lord Prowl, but he had been compliant when the Lord of a whole city asked for his company to dine. Jazz suspected this servant at least would refuse it unless Jazz outright ordered him to share a meal with him, and he wasn't comfortable with the idea of forcing someone to do something like that.
Jazz waited for the waiter, ordering a simple cube of regular energon and a small pack of energon goodies to go with it. He thanked the waiter when his order was brought and began to refuel quietly, stubbornly keeping his gaze away from the servant. The shire was beautiful and a nice place to be. He could see younglings running around with their friends, families sitting down to have fun together. He wondered if his grandfather would be amenable to a walk around the shire, and to sit down in perfectly anonymous cafés, just talking about anything amidst a cube of energon.
Once refueled, Jazz instructed the servant they were going back home, as he still had to compile the information and send it to Lord Prowl for his evaluation. Jazz thanked the servant and dismissed him while he headed to his rooms, a package lying on a small table caught his attention. "What's this?" Jazz picked the package and couldn't help a sour smirk gracing his lip components as realized they were educational texts. "Yeah, th'whole tutorin' thing was for real."
Setting the texts back down on the table, Jazz sauntered to his bedroom, taking the time to inspect the place better, deciding where he wanted to place his belongings and little knick-knacks before he seated on a comfortable chair near the balcony, extracting the pad from subspace and beginning to compile the data for Lord Prowl.
After compiling the information and sending the data stream to Lord Prowl, Jazz decided it was time to do some decoration of his new rooms and set himself to the task. He moved and arranged the furniture around, placing his own belongings where he felt they fitted better. So absorbed by the task, Jazz didn't hear the sound of the doors opening.
"I see you're making yourself at home."
Jazz turned around with a little gasp, smiling at his grandfather standing by the door. "I'm sorry, I jus' wanted ta get settled in before my classes start."
"I see that." Trax laughed and moved closer to the younger mech, patting his back gently. "Was your tour productive?"
"I got the information I was lookin' for. Went to a small café, though the servant wanted ta take me to the places...she frequented." Jazz shifted uncomfortably. He really didn't know how to address his carrier.
"Yes, he mentioned you insisted in going to a smaller place." Trax heaved a sigh, patting Jazz's back gently. "I'm sorry, Jazz, but the servants see you as Beat's child, they probably think you two are alike, or that you'll want to hang at the places she did. You two are similar in appearance after all."
Jazz frowned visibly, he really didn't want to be associated as closely to his carrier as he was by the staff. He didn't really want to hang at the kind of places she frequented, and feared the socialites would think of him as Beat's replacement. "I don't know how ta address her either."
"I know you'll never think of Beat as your mother, Jazz," Trax murmured sadly as he took a seat in one of the couches in the outer chamber in Jazz's rooms. "I can't ask you to feign a love you'll never feel for her. But for the sake of appearances and to avoid others trying to pry, I guess the safest thing would be to call her your carrier, which is what she was in the end."
"Yeah, I suppose," Jazz muttered and dropped himself on the couch next to Trax. "I hope I can make people realize I am not my carrier an' that I have different tastes. Or at least, I think I do."
"Quite possibly." Trax smiled to his grandson, wrapping an arm around Jazz's shoulders. "I know this will be hard for you at first, but I assure you I only want to give you what is yours by your creation right."
"I know ya do." Jazz smiled back and hesitantly rested his head on his grandfather's shoulder. "Do ya think we could go out together some time? Just us an' go have some energon shakes or somethin' down town?"
Trax wrapped his arms around Jazz, feeling a pang of guilt for a moment as he thought about the times he'd hold his daughter like this when she'd request similar things. He didn't want to treat Jazz as a replacement of Beat, he was his own person and that's the mech he wanted to incorporate into his life, not a ghost of the Beat that no longer was after she reached her adulthood. "I'm afraid that can be a little difficult given my schedule and public profile, but I'll try to work something for you, alright?"
"Yeah, okay." Jazz sighed, powering down his optics and leaning better against his grandfather. He couldn't help but bask if the feeling of being held like that. He could remember that sensation of well being when his own sire held him like that as a sparkling, when he felt he was wanted and loved. Whatever was going to happen from now own, he chose not to think about, focusing only in the feelings of wellness that suffused him in the gentle embrace of his grandfather.
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Cutlass was a patient and helpful tutor, Jazz decided. The mech seemed to be a little dense in his personal interactions, but very intelligent and was very patient with Jazz when he was stuck on something. Jazz couldn't say the classes with Cutlass were unpleasant, even if he wasn't exactly excited about the homework the mech had given him.
Slipstream was a different situation altogether. She watched his every move with a glare that meant she was judging him constantly. She began to speak about the differences between proper dances and the garbage of the popular dances the commoners engaged on. Something that stung Jazz as he was an avid dancer and enjoyed engaging in those very same dances Slipstream was putting down. He was determined to impress her with his dancing prowess. To his dismay he found the dances she was trying to teach him were far too stiff for his tastes and the technique was complex, far less intuitive than the dances he was used to, and thus he looked everything but graceful trying to dance.
The music itself was beautiful and Jazz would admit to be impressed with the complexity of the intricate arrangements, the way a melody could go so smoothly and elegantly from a slow pace to a pace far faster than the popular music he engaged in. Jazz usually had no problem following the rhythm of music, interpreting the notes with his body in his own way. But Slipstream was strict on how he was supposed to dance, counting the number of steps, the way the feet moved, and even the positions of the arms, head and body.
The first lesson had been most definitely not one of Jazz's best performances. Which stung at his pride as he was sure this would be something he would have excelled at easily, but such wasn't the case. In that vein, it was surprising to him how elegantly and graceful someone like Slipstream could look like while dancing, it was as she danced that he would see her smiling, even if it was probably a fake smile to suit her performance and not because she was happy while she danced.
When the class was over, Jazz had to stand a dressing down from Slipstream, the instructor lecturing him on his lack of grace and his clumsiness trying to learn something that to her was so simple. She promised to be even more strict on the next session and Jazz bristled at the words but resisted the urge to snap back at her. Feeling in a very foul mood afterwards, Jazz made his way to his rooms to take his frustration out on his homework or possibly with some dancing of his own.
He struggled with his homework for a while, feeling his frustrating growing exponentially until his HUD displayed an incoming message from Lord Prowl. Jazz moved away from his desk towards his bedroom to read the message. Although it was a business message, Jazz found himself smiling at the familiarity of Lord Prowl's writing, the way he expressed himself and how he wanted to deal with the cargos. Jazz was thankful for the reprieve the commission from the Lord of Praxus represented, giving him something to do he was used to. After answering the message, Jazz felt more relaxed and continued with his homework, able to finish faster once his processors were clear of the anger and embarrassment Slipstream made him go through.
After finishing his home work, spending some time with his grandfather and refueling, Jazz decided to go back to his quarters and recharge, knowing he'd need all the rest he could get to deal with Slipstream the next cycle. He couldn't help but sneak some reading before turning in, though, and opened the diary, locating the digital marker of the last entry he'd read.
'I know some would say it's a cliché, but I feel like I'm in some sort of dream at the moment.
Only a couple of breems ago Prowl asked me to bond with him. Our relationship has been relatively brief, but I can't say I haven't enjoyed my time with him, and he has been the best mech I've been with. Plus we're talking about the Lord of Praxus himself, how could I possibly think about saying no to him?
It was so hard to come home and not rush to tell mother and father about this, but I must wait. Prowl wants to ask for their blessings personally in a few cycles. I can barely wait.'
Jazz hummed softly as he re-read the next entry, one he had read previously when he first found the diary. He wondered why the mech seemed to go from absolutely delighted to nervous about the bonding. Was the mech foreseeing something? Or it was just the expected nervousness from bonding to the ruler of a whole city? Jazz read the following entry, frowning deeply at its contents.
'I have talked with Prowl about these feelings of uneasiness that suffuse me. I wish I could say the conversation has eased me, but in truth I don't feel any more comfortable than I was a few cycles ago.
I spoke with some friends, and almost all of them assured me these feelings were normal, that I'd be alright once the formalities are over and my spark is bonded to Prowl's. Only one pulled me aside where nobody would hear us, and told me I what I was doing was a mistake, that it was too soon to take such a leap in a relationship. Once I'm bonded to him there'll be no going back.
We've only shared sparks the cycle before Prowl proposed to me, and I admit it was quite a learning experience in itself. I was so certain I was taking the right decision, but now I have to wonder if I am really doing the right thing. Perhaps we should have waited a little longer before getting engaged, or at least delay the ceremony a few deca-cycles.
No. I shouldn't be thinking this way. Prowl is certain and so I was. It must be just the nervousness since bonding is no small thing, especially when you're bonding to the Lord of Praxus. My parents bonded relatively soon in their relationship and they are fine. I'm sure we'll be fine. We have to be.'
Jazz's frown deepened and decided to close the diary for the night. He wondered if Lord Prowl had felt the same uneasiness his betrothed had, but somehow he doubted the young ruler had felt anything but excitement about his bonding ceremony. Volt never mentioned if their relationship had gone well during the time they were bonded, but Jazz was beginning to suspect at least Lord Prowl's bondmate had not fully recovered, if at all, from his fears about their bonding by the time the sparkling came into the picture.
Jazz sighed and decided to open a different book, not wanting to go into recharge with those thoughts in his processors. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep finally, holding one of the books Lord Prowl had lent to him against his chest plates.
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Notes x 2: I've borrowed the name Cutlass from snugsbunny (And from the Oldsmobile/Ford Cutlass. Yes, I seem to have a thing for naming characters after car models XP) Slipstream is based on the female clone of Starscream in TFA, adapted to movieverse. Hey, if Lockdown can do it, so can Slipstream!
The 'formal introduction in society' and the dancing part are borrowed from some traditions from my country.
Rating: R
Warnings: A bit of violence, angst, possible slashy goodness.
Characters: Trax, Jazz.
Setting: Movieverse AU.
Summary: In trying to live up to the name of his sire he gave his all, until he lost his own spark. Those who once loved him now called him "sparkless".
Notes: This is an AU bunny that belongs to snugsbunny, it's all her fault, I just happen to be the one writting it. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are hers and used with permission. This is a very AU fic so please take with a grain of salt.
Many thanks to mmouse15 for kindly beta reading this for me.
Being formally introduced to Lord Trax's staff had been like what Jazz imagined the first day at an education center had to be like. He hadn't felt this nervous even when he was first introduced to Lord Prowl's staff, even though that was as much a new experience as this. The weighty difference was perhaps in the fact he felt the bar was set high, and the staff would be judging him as the noblemech he was supposed to be now.
Thankfully that had gone well enough, and was given a proper tour around the house, coming to know every place and whatever function they had, if any. Jazz was then led towards a large room where two mechs awaited for him. They introduced themselves as Cutlass and Slipstream. Slipstream was like a much lean and lithe version of Starscream, her form didn't look nearly as bulky and did seem quite graceful. It was the deep scowl in her features that unnerved Jazz, and acutely reminded of the disapproving glare Starscream would throw at him and his friends whenever they did something he didn't like. Cutlass, on the other hand, was smiling pleasantly, his four optics bright amber with a friendly glint shining on them. His posture was staid and formal, but it had an air of relaxation, which made him a more welcoming sight.
"Jazz, these will be your tutors for the deca-cycles to come. Cutlass," Trax gestured towards the bigger mech, "Will be your personal tutor and will update you on your education to an advanced level. Slipstream will be your dancing instructor."
Jazz bowed politely to both mechs before turning his attention back to Trax. "Dancin' teacher?" the silver mech didn't miss the deepening of Slipstream's scowl as she heard his accent, clearly disapproving of it but Jazz choose to ignore it. "Why do I need a dancin' teacher?"
"I can answer to that." Slipstream spoke, and her voice was a little too high pitched yet a little raspy, not unlike Starscream's albeit far more tolerable. "It's a tradition to have any young nobles that become of age and are recognized as legal adults to be presented in society in a celebration in their honor. The mech is expected to engage in a specially choreographed dance for the occasion where he will be presented with gifts from several important noblemechs."
Trax hummed and turned his attention to Jazz. "As Slipstream has explained, to be given your proper place amongst the nobility, and to commemorate your coming of age, a celebration is being prepared. Slipstream will be in charge of the dance, selecting the melody and the proper choreography."
"I see." Jazz frowned but didn't say anything else. He was a fairly good dancer, perhaps then he could impress Slipstream and their interactions wouldn't be as bad as Jazz already feared they could be.
"I must attend to other business now, your classes will begin tomorrow." Trax nodded his thanks to the two instructors that bowed and left. "If you wish to go anywhere in town, you may go with one of my aides. I don't want you going anywhere alone until you've familiarized with the area."
"Alright grandfather. It's alright if I go lookin' fer somethin' in town? I promised Lord Prowl I'd verify the prices of some products he wants to purchase." Jazz followed his grandfather as the older mech left the room.
"Lord Prowl always has his business in the forefront of his processors, doesn't he?" Lord Trax quirked an optic ridge, smiling a little.
"He's th'Lord of Praxus after all, he's gotta keep his city an' his home runnin' smoothly." Jazz couldn't help but shrug a little, smiling back at the older mech.
"True. If you want to do so it's alright with me, but you must be careful and don't stay out too late." Trax trailed as he extracted a pad from subspace, beginning to review the pending work.
"I ain't a sparklin' anymore, grandfather, I know how ta take care o' myself." Jazz tried keeping his tone gentle, he didn't want to offend or upset his grandfather, but he didn't want the mech to think he needed to be coddled.
Trax shook his head, side glancing at the silver mech. "Yes, I know that. But this is your first cycle here, I'd rather if you took more precautions."
Jazz could understand the mech's point of view, but he didn't want Trax to think he was a sparkling that had to be taken everywhere or he'd get lost. "I'll be careful, an' I'll go with one of the aides, but I would like ta be able to go places by myself eventually."
"When you feel familiar enough with the area you may." Trax conceded, having to remind himself that jazz grew up in an orphanage and as one of Lord Prowl's employees, he had learned to get around in Praxus quickly. "Just be careful when you do, alright?"
"I promise I won't give ya reason ta worry about, grandfather." Jazz squeezed his grandfather's arm a little before he waved and hastened his steps, going to look for one of the servants to guide him around the shire. He didn't want to outright think of them as escorts, he really only wanted someone that could show him around, and to keep his grandfather's peace of CPU.
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Jazz wrote down a sum on a data pad after an employee in a warehouse informed him of the prices and deals their company offered for the product Jazz had inquired about. "Thanks for yer time!" he waved as he began to walk away, reviewing the different prices and deals he was offered by the companies he visited.
"Anywhere else you'd like to go, Lord Jazz?" the servant asked as they began to walk away.
Jazz flinched a little at the name, it was so easy to refer to others as Lords and Ladies, but when it applied to him it was just another reminder he wasn't a common mech anymore, and that he would be treated different. "Is there any place we can go ta have some energon? I could use a cube."
"I can take you to the café Lady Beat favored, they serve some of the highest quality mixtures you'll come across in the shire." the servant offered, his hand gesturing elegantly, showing that even the staff here behaved in a different way.
Jazz shifted uncomfortably. "I would prefer somethin' a little more discreet, and perhaps not nearly as expensive."
The servant quirked an optic ridge, his lips pulled back into a small scowl but he nodded and guided Jazz to a café, it was small and relative common looking, the benches while well kept and painted looked ordinary enough. "Is this to your liking, my Lord?"
"Yes, thank you." Jazz headed for the farther table, huddled in a corner and sat down, gesturing to the seat across from his own. The servant mech bowed but stood next to Jazz instead. "Ya won't be sittin'?"
"It's not proper."
Jazz had to resist the urge to heave a sigh, he didn't want to attract attention by having someone standing over him like the servant was. "Would it be proper if ya sat over on the other table? I don't want ta attract attention an' people will look if they see ya standin' over me like that."
"Of course, my lord."
Jazz watched the mech head for the table next to his own, of course he could understand in a way that the servant was conscious of their social differences, Jazz had been too when he worked for Lord Prowl, but he had been compliant when the Lord of a whole city asked for his company to dine. Jazz suspected this servant at least would refuse it unless Jazz outright ordered him to share a meal with him, and he wasn't comfortable with the idea of forcing someone to do something like that.
Jazz waited for the waiter, ordering a simple cube of regular energon and a small pack of energon goodies to go with it. He thanked the waiter when his order was brought and began to refuel quietly, stubbornly keeping his gaze away from the servant. The shire was beautiful and a nice place to be. He could see younglings running around with their friends, families sitting down to have fun together. He wondered if his grandfather would be amenable to a walk around the shire, and to sit down in perfectly anonymous cafés, just talking about anything amidst a cube of energon.
Once refueled, Jazz instructed the servant they were going back home, as he still had to compile the information and send it to Lord Prowl for his evaluation. Jazz thanked the servant and dismissed him while he headed to his rooms, a package lying on a small table caught his attention. "What's this?" Jazz picked the package and couldn't help a sour smirk gracing his lip components as realized they were educational texts. "Yeah, th'whole tutorin' thing was for real."
Setting the texts back down on the table, Jazz sauntered to his bedroom, taking the time to inspect the place better, deciding where he wanted to place his belongings and little knick-knacks before he seated on a comfortable chair near the balcony, extracting the pad from subspace and beginning to compile the data for Lord Prowl.
After compiling the information and sending the data stream to Lord Prowl, Jazz decided it was time to do some decoration of his new rooms and set himself to the task. He moved and arranged the furniture around, placing his own belongings where he felt they fitted better. So absorbed by the task, Jazz didn't hear the sound of the doors opening.
"I see you're making yourself at home."
Jazz turned around with a little gasp, smiling at his grandfather standing by the door. "I'm sorry, I jus' wanted ta get settled in before my classes start."
"I see that." Trax laughed and moved closer to the younger mech, patting his back gently. "Was your tour productive?"
"I got the information I was lookin' for. Went to a small café, though the servant wanted ta take me to the places...she frequented." Jazz shifted uncomfortably. He really didn't know how to address his carrier.
"Yes, he mentioned you insisted in going to a smaller place." Trax heaved a sigh, patting Jazz's back gently. "I'm sorry, Jazz, but the servants see you as Beat's child, they probably think you two are alike, or that you'll want to hang at the places she did. You two are similar in appearance after all."
Jazz frowned visibly, he really didn't want to be associated as closely to his carrier as he was by the staff. He didn't really want to hang at the kind of places she frequented, and feared the socialites would think of him as Beat's replacement. "I don't know how ta address her either."
"I know you'll never think of Beat as your mother, Jazz," Trax murmured sadly as he took a seat in one of the couches in the outer chamber in Jazz's rooms. "I can't ask you to feign a love you'll never feel for her. But for the sake of appearances and to avoid others trying to pry, I guess the safest thing would be to call her your carrier, which is what she was in the end."
"Yeah, I suppose," Jazz muttered and dropped himself on the couch next to Trax. "I hope I can make people realize I am not my carrier an' that I have different tastes. Or at least, I think I do."
"Quite possibly." Trax smiled to his grandson, wrapping an arm around Jazz's shoulders. "I know this will be hard for you at first, but I assure you I only want to give you what is yours by your creation right."
"I know ya do." Jazz smiled back and hesitantly rested his head on his grandfather's shoulder. "Do ya think we could go out together some time? Just us an' go have some energon shakes or somethin' down town?"
Trax wrapped his arms around Jazz, feeling a pang of guilt for a moment as he thought about the times he'd hold his daughter like this when she'd request similar things. He didn't want to treat Jazz as a replacement of Beat, he was his own person and that's the mech he wanted to incorporate into his life, not a ghost of the Beat that no longer was after she reached her adulthood. "I'm afraid that can be a little difficult given my schedule and public profile, but I'll try to work something for you, alright?"
"Yeah, okay." Jazz sighed, powering down his optics and leaning better against his grandfather. He couldn't help but bask if the feeling of being held like that. He could remember that sensation of well being when his own sire held him like that as a sparkling, when he felt he was wanted and loved. Whatever was going to happen from now own, he chose not to think about, focusing only in the feelings of wellness that suffused him in the gentle embrace of his grandfather.
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Cutlass was a patient and helpful tutor, Jazz decided. The mech seemed to be a little dense in his personal interactions, but very intelligent and was very patient with Jazz when he was stuck on something. Jazz couldn't say the classes with Cutlass were unpleasant, even if he wasn't exactly excited about the homework the mech had given him.
Slipstream was a different situation altogether. She watched his every move with a glare that meant she was judging him constantly. She began to speak about the differences between proper dances and the garbage of the popular dances the commoners engaged on. Something that stung Jazz as he was an avid dancer and enjoyed engaging in those very same dances Slipstream was putting down. He was determined to impress her with his dancing prowess. To his dismay he found the dances she was trying to teach him were far too stiff for his tastes and the technique was complex, far less intuitive than the dances he was used to, and thus he looked everything but graceful trying to dance.
The music itself was beautiful and Jazz would admit to be impressed with the complexity of the intricate arrangements, the way a melody could go so smoothly and elegantly from a slow pace to a pace far faster than the popular music he engaged in. Jazz usually had no problem following the rhythm of music, interpreting the notes with his body in his own way. But Slipstream was strict on how he was supposed to dance, counting the number of steps, the way the feet moved, and even the positions of the arms, head and body.
The first lesson had been most definitely not one of Jazz's best performances. Which stung at his pride as he was sure this would be something he would have excelled at easily, but such wasn't the case. In that vein, it was surprising to him how elegantly and graceful someone like Slipstream could look like while dancing, it was as she danced that he would see her smiling, even if it was probably a fake smile to suit her performance and not because she was happy while she danced.
When the class was over, Jazz had to stand a dressing down from Slipstream, the instructor lecturing him on his lack of grace and his clumsiness trying to learn something that to her was so simple. She promised to be even more strict on the next session and Jazz bristled at the words but resisted the urge to snap back at her. Feeling in a very foul mood afterwards, Jazz made his way to his rooms to take his frustration out on his homework or possibly with some dancing of his own.
He struggled with his homework for a while, feeling his frustrating growing exponentially until his HUD displayed an incoming message from Lord Prowl. Jazz moved away from his desk towards his bedroom to read the message. Although it was a business message, Jazz found himself smiling at the familiarity of Lord Prowl's writing, the way he expressed himself and how he wanted to deal with the cargos. Jazz was thankful for the reprieve the commission from the Lord of Praxus represented, giving him something to do he was used to. After answering the message, Jazz felt more relaxed and continued with his homework, able to finish faster once his processors were clear of the anger and embarrassment Slipstream made him go through.
After finishing his home work, spending some time with his grandfather and refueling, Jazz decided to go back to his quarters and recharge, knowing he'd need all the rest he could get to deal with Slipstream the next cycle. He couldn't help but sneak some reading before turning in, though, and opened the diary, locating the digital marker of the last entry he'd read.
'I know some would say it's a cliché, but I feel like I'm in some sort of dream at the moment.
Only a couple of breems ago Prowl asked me to bond with him. Our relationship has been relatively brief, but I can't say I haven't enjoyed my time with him, and he has been the best mech I've been with. Plus we're talking about the Lord of Praxus himself, how could I possibly think about saying no to him?
It was so hard to come home and not rush to tell mother and father about this, but I must wait. Prowl wants to ask for their blessings personally in a few cycles. I can barely wait.'
Jazz hummed softly as he re-read the next entry, one he had read previously when he first found the diary. He wondered why the mech seemed to go from absolutely delighted to nervous about the bonding. Was the mech foreseeing something? Or it was just the expected nervousness from bonding to the ruler of a whole city? Jazz read the following entry, frowning deeply at its contents.
'I have talked with Prowl about these feelings of uneasiness that suffuse me. I wish I could say the conversation has eased me, but in truth I don't feel any more comfortable than I was a few cycles ago.
I spoke with some friends, and almost all of them assured me these feelings were normal, that I'd be alright once the formalities are over and my spark is bonded to Prowl's. Only one pulled me aside where nobody would hear us, and told me I what I was doing was a mistake, that it was too soon to take such a leap in a relationship. Once I'm bonded to him there'll be no going back.
We've only shared sparks the cycle before Prowl proposed to me, and I admit it was quite a learning experience in itself. I was so certain I was taking the right decision, but now I have to wonder if I am really doing the right thing. Perhaps we should have waited a little longer before getting engaged, or at least delay the ceremony a few deca-cycles.
No. I shouldn't be thinking this way. Prowl is certain and so I was. It must be just the nervousness since bonding is no small thing, especially when you're bonding to the Lord of Praxus. My parents bonded relatively soon in their relationship and they are fine. I'm sure we'll be fine. We have to be.'
Jazz's frown deepened and decided to close the diary for the night. He wondered if Lord Prowl had felt the same uneasiness his betrothed had, but somehow he doubted the young ruler had felt anything but excitement about his bonding ceremony. Volt never mentioned if their relationship had gone well during the time they were bonded, but Jazz was beginning to suspect at least Lord Prowl's bondmate had not fully recovered, if at all, from his fears about their bonding by the time the sparkling came into the picture.
Jazz sighed and decided to open a different book, not wanting to go into recharge with those thoughts in his processors. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep finally, holding one of the books Lord Prowl had lent to him against his chest plates.
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Notes x 2: I've borrowed the name Cutlass from snugsbunny (And from the Oldsmobile/Ford Cutlass. Yes, I seem to have a thing for naming characters after car models XP) Slipstream is based on the female clone of Starscream in TFA, adapted to movieverse. Hey, if Lockdown can do it, so can Slipstream!
The 'formal introduction in society' and the dancing part are borrowed from some traditions from my country.