Festival Challenge - Day 11
Fic: Bound by Fate
Rating: G
Characters: Jazz/Prowl
Festival: St Valentine's Day
Day and Prompt: Day 11: invitation
Jazz wrung his hands, “I don’t want to go creator,” he looked down at the half cast sigil on his wrist. He would never find his sparkmate. The sigil would never be complete. His creators had searched endlessly in their own province, among those of their own rank. No one would would be happy to bond with him. He was a halfling. Neither full Praxian, nor completely of Protihex.
“Don’t fret. Perhaps we shall find your intended there. Don’t you want me meet your sparkmate? Don’t you want to have sparklings of your own?”
Jazz touched the indecipherable and winding sigil around his wrist. Perhaps it would never be completed.
Downbeat pulled him close, hugging him, “Oh, youngling. It is not so bad. We will all be there at the King’s invitation.”
“We won’t fit in,” Jazz whispered, “We don’t belong there.”
Downbeat snorted, “And when has that ever stopped you, youngling?”
“Fine, right. You aren’t going to give me a choice, are you?”
Downbeat shook his helm. “No. I won’t let you give up a chance at happiness, bitling.”
“When do we leave?” Jazz finally said, his face lacking his normally cheeky grin.
“Next sol. The ball will be on the Feast of Solus Prime,” his carrier smirked.
Jazz snorted, “How cliche.”
Downbeat laughed, “I think it is romantic. A ball held during the Feast of Lover's is perfect. Now be good, sparkling. And go pack.”
*******
Prowl frowned at his creator as the attendants moved around him. “I don’t see that this is necessary. There is no one for me.”
“If there was no one for you then you would not have onlined with a sigil,” Stormfront said patiently as he could.
Prowl put a hand over the partial sigil, hiding it from his creator’s sight. “So you say.”
“Don’t be like that, my love. It will unfurl when you meet your sparkmate, and you will meet them. I know you will. Have a little faith,” Stormfront said, and moved around his creation watching the attendants buff and polish him. “You will find them, and they will adore you my beautiful creation.”
“I’m fine with being alone,” Prowl tried. Secretly he could not imagine anyone ever really wanting him. The nobles only wanted his position, and he had always been terrified that he would end up bonded to one of them. He would rather be alone than be bonded to such a mech.
“You say that, youngling, but you will feel differently once you have found the one.”
Prowl grunted, not convinced.
*******
Jazz moved through the crush, sticking close to his creators as the stood in line to greet the king and queen. There had been pointed stares when they arrived. Jazz KNEW that they were not welcome, but more to the point the HE was not welcome. He had heard the nobles whispering, and pointing. ‘Look at the half-breed.’ ‘What is HE doing here?’ ‘The nerve!’ Jazz tried to ignore it, but each comment was like a cruel stab to his spark. It hurt.
They were all very careful not to touch him. They would rather never have a sparkmate than touch a half-breed like him and have their sigil complete itself. He wasn’t sure that he blamed them.
He moved in the line despite his reservations, and finally stood before the heir, and held out his hand. Surprisingly Prowl did not hesitate. He placed his hand in Jazz’s upturned one, and they both froze, and stared at each other with wide optics as their sparks reached out for one another, and the chromatophores raced across their plating completing the sigils across their wrists. The black lines broke up the stark white of Prowl’s plating, and he was the first to be shaken from their spell.
“My sparkmate, Solus has blessed me with your presence. Will you give me your name?”
“Jazz,” he whispered. Prowl’s hand felt warm in his own, the fingers winding more tightly and holding him.
“A lovely name,” he said, his optics losing their chill as he spoke. “I never thought I would find you.”
“You want me?” Jazz asked, looking confused. “Are you sure. I’m not...I’m not...”
“You are my sparkmate,” Prowl said, “And it will be a pleasure to come to know you.”
Jazz could feel his creator’s fields behind him, purring happily. They did not seem surprised at all. They seemed happy for him. Pleased. Excited, and perhaps he could not blame him for that. “It will be nice to get to know you as well,” he finally managed. His spark whirled under his chestplates. His creators had already moved past them to talk to Prowl’s creators. He barely heard the terms they were talking about. His processor too overwhelmed to process any of it.
He felt as though he was sleepwalking. Prowl lead him away from the crush, away from the crowd. Far away from the whispers, and the accusing looks. This could not be real, and yet Prowl’s hand felt warm and comforting in his own. It felt right, and Jazz was altogether reluctant to let go.
Notes:
Jazz's Sigil
Prowl's Sigil
Rating: G
Characters: Jazz/Prowl
Festival: St Valentine's Day
Day and Prompt: Day 11: invitation
Jazz wrung his hands, “I don’t want to go creator,” he looked down at the half cast sigil on his wrist. He would never find his sparkmate. The sigil would never be complete. His creators had searched endlessly in their own province, among those of their own rank. No one would would be happy to bond with him. He was a halfling. Neither full Praxian, nor completely of Protihex.
“Don’t fret. Perhaps we shall find your intended there. Don’t you want me meet your sparkmate? Don’t you want to have sparklings of your own?”
Jazz touched the indecipherable and winding sigil around his wrist. Perhaps it would never be completed.
Downbeat pulled him close, hugging him, “Oh, youngling. It is not so bad. We will all be there at the King’s invitation.”
“We won’t fit in,” Jazz whispered, “We don’t belong there.”
Downbeat snorted, “And when has that ever stopped you, youngling?”
“Fine, right. You aren’t going to give me a choice, are you?”
Downbeat shook his helm. “No. I won’t let you give up a chance at happiness, bitling.”
“When do we leave?” Jazz finally said, his face lacking his normally cheeky grin.
“Next sol. The ball will be on the Feast of Solus Prime,” his carrier smirked.
Jazz snorted, “How cliche.”
Downbeat laughed, “I think it is romantic. A ball held during the Feast of Lover's is perfect. Now be good, sparkling. And go pack.”
*******
Prowl frowned at his creator as the attendants moved around him. “I don’t see that this is necessary. There is no one for me.”
“If there was no one for you then you would not have onlined with a sigil,” Stormfront said patiently as he could.
Prowl put a hand over the partial sigil, hiding it from his creator’s sight. “So you say.”
“Don’t be like that, my love. It will unfurl when you meet your sparkmate, and you will meet them. I know you will. Have a little faith,” Stormfront said, and moved around his creation watching the attendants buff and polish him. “You will find them, and they will adore you my beautiful creation.”
“I’m fine with being alone,” Prowl tried. Secretly he could not imagine anyone ever really wanting him. The nobles only wanted his position, and he had always been terrified that he would end up bonded to one of them. He would rather be alone than be bonded to such a mech.
“You say that, youngling, but you will feel differently once you have found the one.”
Prowl grunted, not convinced.
*******
Jazz moved through the crush, sticking close to his creators as the stood in line to greet the king and queen. There had been pointed stares when they arrived. Jazz KNEW that they were not welcome, but more to the point the HE was not welcome. He had heard the nobles whispering, and pointing. ‘Look at the half-breed.’ ‘What is HE doing here?’ ‘The nerve!’ Jazz tried to ignore it, but each comment was like a cruel stab to his spark. It hurt.
They were all very careful not to touch him. They would rather never have a sparkmate than touch a half-breed like him and have their sigil complete itself. He wasn’t sure that he blamed them.
He moved in the line despite his reservations, and finally stood before the heir, and held out his hand. Surprisingly Prowl did not hesitate. He placed his hand in Jazz’s upturned one, and they both froze, and stared at each other with wide optics as their sparks reached out for one another, and the chromatophores raced across their plating completing the sigils across their wrists. The black lines broke up the stark white of Prowl’s plating, and he was the first to be shaken from their spell.
“My sparkmate, Solus has blessed me with your presence. Will you give me your name?”
“Jazz,” he whispered. Prowl’s hand felt warm in his own, the fingers winding more tightly and holding him.
“A lovely name,” he said, his optics losing their chill as he spoke. “I never thought I would find you.”
“You want me?” Jazz asked, looking confused. “Are you sure. I’m not...I’m not...”
“You are my sparkmate,” Prowl said, “And it will be a pleasure to come to know you.”
Jazz could feel his creator’s fields behind him, purring happily. They did not seem surprised at all. They seemed happy for him. Pleased. Excited, and perhaps he could not blame him for that. “It will be nice to get to know you as well,” he finally managed. His spark whirled under his chestplates. His creators had already moved past them to talk to Prowl’s creators. He barely heard the terms they were talking about. His processor too overwhelmed to process any of it.
He felt as though he was sleepwalking. Prowl lead him away from the crush, away from the crowd. Far away from the whispers, and the accusing looks. This could not be real, and yet Prowl’s hand felt warm and comforting in his own. It felt right, and Jazz was altogether reluctant to let go.
Notes:
Jazz's Sigil
Prowl's Sigil
