The Jester Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Schwer Verwirrt
Author: Thalanee
Verse: AU Bayverse
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: none for this chapter
Word Count: 6100 words
Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me, I only wish they did… Seriously, if they did, do you really think movie-Jazz, G1-Prowl and TfA-Prowl would have died?! The song “Dein Anblick” belongs to Schandmaul (an English translation is given at the end of the chapter, for the sake of the argument let’s say it’s just a different dialect)
Other Characters: Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Optimus
Summary: An argument isn’t the best way to become closer to someone, but it’s a start.
Author’s Note: These things seem to be getting longer and longer… Just to make it more clear: a cycle is a day, decacycle means week, orn means month and a vorn is a year (I know that’s not really correct, but I use them like this).
“…” speech
`…´ bond talk (twinbond, sparkbonds)
::…:: comm. talk
If you want to listen to the song here’s a link (just remove the empty spaces):
http: // www. youtube. com/ watch?v= vpVIyV9LfhM
XXXXX
The two bots stared at each other in disbelief.
Prowl had most certainly not expected to be caught on his knees in the dirt, caring for the crystals he had planted and -what was even more mortifying for him- singing softly. Caught up in what he was doing he hadn’t even noticed the other mech’s approach. How long had the other bot been standing there anyway?
Unsure what to say he simply let the silence continue, while the silver mech, who was taller than he the prince absently noted, opened his mouth several times as if about to speak, before deciding against it and closing his mouth again. The longer they stared at each other the more Prowl became aware of a strange fluttering sensation in his spark. Never before had he felt something like that, so it was disconcerting to the reserved bot.
After a few more minutes of silence the Praxian decided he had had enough. “I do not wish to insult you, but I would advise you to stop that.” He tilted his head. “You look like a cyberfish.”
An indignant snort came from the other bot. “Thanks for tha compliment, mech. Ya really know how ta flatter a bot, don’t ya.” He drawled.
Internally Prowl had to hide a wince. Never before had he heard anyone mangle the Cybertronian speech like that (apart from Ironhide, of course, but the Guard was an exception to many a rule). His voice was pleasantly deep and caused his spark to flutter even more, yet his face didn’t betray how unnerved he was by his spark’s reaction to this unknown bot, remaining set in what he called his “court mask”.
“I did not intend to compliment you, but if you wish to take it as such you are welcome to do so.” Prowl responded in his most haughty tone of voice, unconsciously flaring his wings in an attempt to appear bigger than he was. “However I would ask that you explain your presence in this private garden.” The garden was his, a private place he retreated to when he wanted to be alone, to escape from the demands of protocol, whenever maintaining his “court mask” was becoming too much. To be disturbed here in his sanctuary by this unknown bot, when he desperately wanted privacy, rankled deeply enough for him to be deliberately rude. How dare this stranger intrude on his garden? And how did he cause this strange pull in his spark?
The other seemed taken aback by Prowl’s arrogance and held up his hands in a gesture meant to be placating. “Hey, there’s no need for that, mech.”
“No need?” Prowl actually hissed. Absently he wondered where his usual self control had disappeared too, but he didn’t really care. “This is my garden! I demand to know who you are and how you gained entrance to this place.” Standing straight he ordered the other in his most authoritative tone of voice, acutely aware of the light scratches and the dirt on his usually pristine armour, and glared at the intruder, daring him to refuse the prince.
Meanwhile the jester couldn’t help but stare transfixed. The other looked really cute when he was angry, all blazing gold optics and flared wings. The silver mech couldn’t take his optics off of him even if he wanted to. He did nothing to suppress the cheeky grin the doorwinger’s outburst had prompted. Being the cause of that look on the beautiful creatures face tickled him, actually. He couldn’t help but wonder how much more he could rile the other up. “Make me.”
That made the other pause and boggle at Jazz in astonishment. “Excuse me?” And as incredulous as he sounded he hadn’t heard that before. Well, there was a first time for everything.
“I said, make me,” Jazz retorted cheerfully, cocking his hip to the side in a stance of pure attitude. “And it says nowhere that this place is private.” He added.
Wings twitching erratically, the smaller bot looked at Jazz as if he had grown another head. It was impossible that the other didn’t know. Wasn’t it?“The locked gates say it is private. The walls surrounding this wing of the palace say it is private. Entering here is expressly forbidden by palace rules.” He growled stalking nearer and poking the jester in the chestplates. “So. What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”
The silver mech looked down his nose at the other. He was really enjoying this, but something told him that he shouldn’t go farther. After all he didn’t want the other to hate him. It would be pretty detrimental when he asked the other out, after all, which was what Jazz intended to do very soon. “I might ask tha same, if it’s really so forbidden.”
“I am not obliged to explain myself to you,” he scoffed. “Leave now, before I call the guards to remove you from the premises.”
Slowly it dawned on Jazz that purposefully irritating the other might not have been one of his better ideas. If the garden was really that private, the other had every reason to want him gone. Also small details started to register. Despite the dirt and the scratches the black and white’s chassis was obviously very well cared for and of high quality. His manner of speaking indicated high rank and this wing was deep in the inner parts of the palace. Evidently the other was of some rank and Jazz didn’t want to be kicked out by the palace guard. Ironhide would hand him his aft if he got into trouble again.
“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” the silver mech took a step back, “I didn’t know this place was private and I sure as pit didn’t wanna intrude.” Hopefully the other would forgive him, he really wanted to get to know him better, possible differences in rank be damned. Because, unbeknownst to Prowl, he had felt the strange pull in his spark to. Knowing what it meant he was determined to get to know the other better.
The black and white’s face smoothed back into the mask he had worn earlier. “Apology accepted.” He replied curtly, his voice flat. ”Now please leave.”
Realizing he had screwed up, the jester deflated a little, but he wasn’t about to give up that easily. Never before had a bot captivated him like that and he would be damned if he would let the singer slip through his servos without even trying to hold on to him. “Alright.” He acquiesced. “But could ya answer at least one question please?”
While the other contemplated his request Jazz tried his best to look as pitiful as possible, his processor already busy making plans how to court the exquisite bot in front of him. First things first, though. “That depends on the question.” Was the hesitant answer.
“It’s nothin’ bad, I swear,” his cool demeanor vanished into thin air, nervousness taking its place, “I just, well, I won’ered, what’s ya name?”
Blinking in surprise the other answered without thinking, “My designation is Prowl.”
Prowl. In his processor he repeated the name over and over again. Prowl…Instantly he decided that it was the most beautiful word he’d ever heard. Unbeknownst to him a blissful grin had spread on his face. Somewhere he had heard the name before, but right now Jazz couldn’t be bothered to remember where, since he was far too happy to finally know Prowl’s name.
“Well, sorry to have disturbed ya, Prowler,” the jester quipped before he suddenly leaped up onto the crystal tree and from there onto the wall surrounding the garden in flowing movements. Up on the wall he stopped, turned and offered an effusive bow to Praxian. “Don’ worry, I’ll be back!” With a two fingered salute he bounded off the wall onto the other side and danced his way through the palace to meet up with Blaster, his processor happily humming away at various seduction techniques. Only a few minutes later did he actually realize that he had his sight set on the younger creation of the Lord Prime himself.
XXXXX
Prowl stared at the part of the wall where the silver figure had disappeared to, surprised that his spark gave a sad twinge at the silver mech’s departure. Despite of his earlier insistence there was some part of him who had actually wanted the intruder to stay. Absently one of his servos came to rest upon the plates that hid his spark chamber, rubbing at them lightly. To say he was confused would have been putting it lightly.
He didn’t know what to make of the strange feelings in his spark and to his surprise he regretted being so rude with the other, even if he had startled him and entered without permission. But the other had said he’d be back, hadn’t he? His spark gave a happy surge at the thought of seeing the silver one again. The doorwinger sincerely hoped he had meant what he’d said.
So caught up in his own thoughts was he, that he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone anymore, until Sideswipe stepped in front of him and poked his noseplating.
“Hey, you alright?” The silver hellion sounded worried and started to look like it even more when Prowl was visibly confused by his presence. “I called your name a few times and you didn’t even twitch!”
“Do you want us to call Ratchet?” Sunstreaker was openly frowning at the Prince, arms crossed in front of his chest plating.
“No,” Prowl hastened to reassure them, “nothing is wrong. I am fine, I assure you.”
The twins didn’t buy his act for a single moment. Sideswipe just snorted in disbelief while Sunstreaker merely raised an optic ridge. Both looked at Prowl expectantly, obviously waiting for an explanation. When none was forthcoming, Sideswipe continued to press Prowl for an answer.
“Come on, you stand there in the middle of your garden, looking like a lost turbopuppy, rubbing your chestplates, as if you’re hurt and you expect me to believe that?” Prowl was grateful that his self control had decided to return from its impromptu vacation, because the silver guard had a point. “Besides I thought I heard voices, yours and someone else’s.”
“I am fine, Sideswipe,” Prowl repeated, “I was just tending the crystals… and singing.”
Still not entirely convinced, the twins shared a short conversation over their twin bond and decided to leave Prowl alone for now, but watch him closely from a distance, close enough to be near in case of trouble and far enough that he wouldn’t notice them. They would ask him again later. And if he didn’t tell them, then they would just sic his older brother on the black and white. Even if Prowl wouldn’t talk to anyone else about troubles, he’d always confide in Optimus.
“Alright, we’ll leave you alone, but you’ll call us if something’s wrong.”
“Your concern for my wellbeing is appreciated, but you need not worry.” Fluttering his doorwings once, a sign for the twins that he really was fine, he let a tiny, barely there smile appear on his face. “And yes, I will call you, if there is something wrong.”
Appeased (at least slightly) the twins left Prowl to his own devices in the garden. Again the Prince stared at the part of the wall the silver one had disappeared over and prayed he would be back. Belatedly he realized that although he had given the silver mech his name, the bot had not offered his own in return.
XXXXX
Four cycles later found Prowl in his garden again. Lessons with Tome, council meetings and sessions in which the Lord Prime introduced him to the finer points of ruling a realm had kept him from being there for more than half an hour at a time before. So far there had been no sign of the silver mech’s presence (Prowl had searched the whole garden, just to be on the safe side, he told himself, but found nothing).
Sitting beneath the very crystal tree where they had first met, he continued to wait all the while singing softly to himself and watching the spot on the wall the silver one had disappeared over. Prowl wasn’t sure why he was waiting for the other to turn up. He didn’t know him, didn’t even know his name, yet he was drawn to the creature who had dared to stand up to him without a second thought. His processor kept replaying the others words, images of the cheeky grin kept creeping back to the forefront of his mind whatever he did.
It was annoying really. The doorwinger huffed to himself, his white wings twitching in anticipation. Two hours later, when Prowl had to leave for dinner in the Great Hall, there was still nothing. With a deep sigh, the Prince stood up, unaware that his wings were noticeably drooping on his back, unaware that two pairs of blue optics were watching him with concern, only focused on the inexplicable feeling of sadness in his spark.
XXXXX
Dinner in the Great Hall was held once a decacycle. It was an ornate and noisy affair, something Prowl would usually avoid at all costs if he could, but his presence was demanded by protocol. It was one of the things that Sentinel Prime insisted on, that at least once a decacycle the whole royal family should make an “informal” appearance outside of council meetings, audiences and festivals.
Each time the hall was filled to the brim with guest from all parts of the city and the realm, singers and entertainers, both from the Court and hired for the occasion, would delight the guest with their talents. For the occasion the Hall was decked out in brightly coloured drapes made from fine metal threads and bright lights in matching colours. The feast would last for hours filled with (more or less boring) conversation.
Usually Prowl would entertain himself by watching the crowd (the ways some of the minor (and the major) nobles tried to outdo each other- be it with optic-catching or rather optic-watering paintjobs or recounting tales of one’s supposed prowess- were so ridiculous that they were fun to watch), bantering with the twins over comms or just talking with his family or Tome. Today though Prowl just wished he could stay in his room.
For a moment he seriously considered feigning sickness, but Ratchet wouldn’t be fooled, and would surely tell his sire and brother about it. Then they would ask why he pretended to be ill and the Prince seriously didn’t think they would believe him, if he said he didn’t feel like going. The Prime would have a fit and Optimus would needle him to confess what was wrong. And what was the doorwinger supposed to say anyway?
That he was disappointed the mech who had previously broken into his garden hadn’t shown up again like he had promised? That he would do anything to see a mech he didn’t know anything about again? That his spark gave happy pulses at the thought of said mech, and constricted painfully at the very idea of never seeing him again?
Yet Prowl couldn’t bring himself to feel appalled at his overly emotional behavior as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dressing up was part of the dinner and as usual Prowl’s frame was wrapped in swaths of white fabric made of metal threads so fine it was almost see-through, flowing from his hips to the floor, the pieces around his upper arms fanned out slightly, forming a pair of sleeves. The rest flowed down his back like a cloak, framing his wings. Golden glyphs denoting Prowl’s name and rank were stitched into the fabric.
All Prowl could think about was what the silver mech would think if he could see the doorwinger like this. Disgusted with himself Prowl turned away from the mirror and left his rooms for the feast, with the twins close behind him. What was wrong with him?
Unbeknownst to the Prince Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were mulling over the same question. They had noticed Prowl’s unusual behavior, the anticipation he displayed every time he rushed to the garden and the dejection whenever he came back from his beloved garden, when before he had always returned happy and relaxed.
`What do you think could have happened?´ Sideswipe asked his twin over their bond without displaying any hint of doing so, grinning like he always did.
`I don’t know. The garden is well protected, but it’s still possible someone got in.´ Sunstreaker replied, his face set in his usual scowl.
`But if someone broke into the garden, why didn’t Prowl call us?´ The red twin sounded as confused as his golden brother felt.
`He’s not injured either, so we can’t sic Ratchet on him.´ They both glanced at the figure walking in front of them, wings held high, their droop only noticeable to those who knew Prowl well.
`He could be hiding an injury for all we know. He’s adept at doing that and we both know how much he hates medbay. You’ve seen how often he touches his spark casing! And I can tell he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.´ His twins worry for their friend flowed back and forth in their bond.
The golden mech mulled over the facts for some time, before speaking again. `There’s only one thing we can do, really.´
Sideswipe knew exactly what he meant and winced slightly. `Prowl won’t like that.´
`I don’t care. It’s the only way. We’ll tell Optimus there’s something wrong with his little brother. If anyone can get Prowl to open up and confess what’s bothering him, it’s his older brother.´
As if he had been summoned by the mere mention of his name, the future Lord of Iacon joined them with his guards at the entrance to the Great Hall. His silvery white sash and cloak served as an optic-catching contrast to the red flames on his blue chassis, the effect very pleasing to the optics. Optimus seemed to be Primus own definition of a charismatic leader, something the young mech wasn’t entirely comfortable with at times.
“Ready to face the dinner crowd?” Optimus asked, while offering Prowl his right arm.
“As ready as I will be,” Prowl answered, taking the offer and letting a smiling Optimus take hold of Prowl’s left hand and place it in the crook of his right. Arm in arm they entered the Great Hall, announced by the herald. As they took their seats everyone bowed or kneeled depending on their rank, and only rose once the princes were seated next to each other on the Prime’s right. On their sire’s left sat an ambassador from Altihex, with whom the Prime was deeply engrossed in conversation.
Soon the energon was served, as were various other dishes like rust sticks, goodies, various shakes and even vintage high grade imported from Vos, the flying home of the Seekers, a realm with close ties of the realm of Praxus. The young skylord Starscream had once brought a copious amount of cubes with him on a visit to Iacon as a gift. Ever since those had run out the Court regularly imported cubes from Vos via Praxus. As a result of their contact Starscream and Prowl had actually become friends.
Maybe writing the seeker would help him sort his thoughts? If nothing else the jet’s blunt answers might help him, Prowl mused while absently sipping at his cube. Thoughts turning from the letter to its silver subject matter Prowl never noticed the way Optimus stiffened slightly in his seat, when he received the twins’ formal request for a private comm.
Whenever the twins adhered to protocol so strictly it meant there was something wrong. Silently granting the request, Optimus threw a sideways glance to the silent Prowl. That the Praxian was this silent wasn’t all that unusual, yet the way he stared into nothing, fiddling with his cube was not. Rarely had he seen the black and white so unresponsive. If he didn’t know better he’d say Prowl was daydreaming.
:: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, what’s wrong with my little brother?:: he demanded to know at once.
:: We don’t know, my lord. He’s been like that for at least for days now, but we haven’t been able to find out what’s wrong. We don’t think it’s anything physical, but we can’t be sure about that.:: Sunstreaker explained.
Raising his cube to his mouth to hide the frown now visible on his face for all to see, Optimus took a small sip. :: Was there anything out of the ordinary, something that could have disturbed him?::
There was the slightest hint of hesitancy before Sideswipe spoke up. :: It started four days ago, I think. He had retreated to his garden, you know how he loves to muck about there, and at one time we thought we heard something, but Prowl was alone. My lord, he didn’t even notice us, not even when we were calling him and he was touching his spark plating. He’s been rubbing at it constantly ever since, and he keeps spacing out at odd times.::
Now Optimus was really worried. A glance at the smaller black and white revealed that he still hadn’t touched the contents of his cube. :: What does Ratchet say about this?::
:: He doesn’t know, Prowl hasn’t gone to see him and we couldn’t persuade him. That is why we thought it was time to alert you. I think you’re the only one who can get him to talk about whatever bothers him.:: Worry tinged the transmission, but Sunstreaker’s golden frame didn’t even twitch, displaying no outward sign that there was anything wrong.
:: Thank you for bringing this to my attention, twins. I’ll take care of it.::
Relieved the twins could be heard to thank him and wish him good luck, before the line between them went silent. For the rest of the evening Optimus kept most of his attention on his younger brother, surreptitiously looking in his direction. He might as well not have bothered to hide what he was doing for all the attention Prowl paid his surroundings.
Lost in thought the Praxian kept twirling the contents of his cube, taking a sip once or twice. Optimus’ concern grew even greater when Prowl didn’t so much as look at the small cube of Vosnian highgrade he indulged in once in a while. Some of Prowl’s attention was still in the room, enough so that no one who wasn’t actively looking would notice that the prince was only going through the motions, while he kept wondering about the silver one, and the strange and yet wonderful feeling in his spark.
Absently he let his gaze wander about the room, watching the present mechs in the faint hope of catching the glint of light on silver armor or the glow of a blue visor, but for naught. Yet his optics kept sweeping the crowd, listening more closely to the commands of his spark than those of his processor.
He didn’t expect his vigilance to be rewarded, but it was.
Golden optics widened when he caught sight of a familiar looking frame mingling with bots he knew were entertainers the court had hired, singers and dancers, storytellers and jesters, musicians and acrobats. Was the silver mech one of them?
Gasping at the sudden, almost painful surge his spark gave when he realized he had found the one he had been looking for, one of his hands clutched his spark plating. The sheer power of the feeling in his spark almost frightened him.
Something of this must have shown on his face or in the movement of his wings, because suddenly Optimus was by his side and gently maneuvering him out of his seat.
“I think it would be better if we retired. You’re obviously not well, Prowl.”
Stiffening, Prowl hastened to reassure the taller mech. Now that he was finally close to the silver one again he couldn’t leave! “I am fine, Optimus, I assure you there is nothing you need to worry about. Whatever it was has passed.”
A knowing look was directed at the hand still hovering over the black and white’s chassis. “No, it hasn’t. I can see it.” He frowned. “Please, Prowl, you know you don’t have to hide it when you’re not feeling well. Our lord father will understand if you excuse yourself from the festivities for once.”
“No,” Prowl almost exclaimed, then lowered his voice so that only Optimus would hear him, “let me stay until it is over. If you still insist, I shall visit Ratchet tomorrow to alleviate your worries.”
Not quite trusting the other’s reassurances the blue and red prince was that short of just slinging the smaller one over his shoulder and carting him to the court’s medic, but the almost desperate expression on his stoic brother’s face stopped him short. Prowl seldom asked for anything, and when he did, he usually had good reason or it was something important to him. “I will grant your request, if you will grant mine.”
Prowl cocked his head to the side, thinking. “Agreed. State your terms then.”
The future Prime smiled. Prowl could be so literal sometimes. “You will let Ratchet look you over to see if whatever ails you has physical reason, and you will talk to someone about what bothers you. It doesn’t have to be me, but I would feel easier knowing there is someone helping you.”
Those golden optics focused on him, before Prowl nodded. “We shall talk tomorrow then, after the cycle’s work has been completed.”
Pleased with his achievement, Optimus placed a loving kiss on his brother’s chevron and returned to his own seat, motioning to his father, after a questioning look from the Prime (who had noticed what had transpired) that all had been dealt with. With a short nod the ruler of Iacon returned his attention to the conversation with the ambassador.
Worried that the silver one had disappeared during his argument with Optimus, Prowl looked around and was relieved when he found the object of his thoughts almost exactly where he had been before, deep in conversation with a red mech Prowl knew was one of their best musicians.
For the rest of the evening Prowl never looked away.
As if feeling Prowl’s optics on him, the sliver mech turned, letting his own visor sweep the crowd until he looked straight at the Prince. When he grinned broadly and his visor blinked on and off in a wink, Prowl couldn’t fight the slight blush. Still, he didn’t look away.
And when the silver mech’s turn came to sing and perform with the others, no force on Cybertron could have moved the prince from his seat.
XXXXX
It took all the formidable self- control Prowl had not to take of running to his garden, as soon as the festivities were over. But knowing that his brother was worried already, the black and white restrained himself until the door to his quarters closed behind him, leaving him completely alone.
He didn’t even bother to get out of his elaborate court clothes like he usually would, he just wanted to reach his garden as fast as he could. To say that appearance was a minor concern would have been a dire understatement. In all his haste to get to his destination he didn’t even stop to think why he was so eager to see the other again, Prowl just knew he had to meet the silver one again.
As soon as he stepped out of his rooms he knew his wish had been granted. The notes of a song were drifting through the air, coming from the direction of the large tree where he had first met the other. It was the same song, the silver one had performed at the feast, all the while looking at Prowl. Somehow the prince knew the song had been directed at him.
Hätte ich einen Pinsel zu zeichnen Dein Antlitz,
den Glanz Deiner Augen, den lieblichen Mund.
Ich malte die Wimper, die Braue, Dein Lächeln,
wie ich es erkannte in jener Stund´.
Slowing down, Prowl walked closer, listening to the music. But when he was near the tree there was no one to see underneath it. Confused, Prowl stopped under its glittering branches and looked for the source of the sounds so close to him.
Hätte ich eine Flöte zu spielen die Klänge,
die von Deiner Anmut und Schönheit erzählen.
Ich spielte den Reigen der himmlischen Tänze, wie in den Gedanken, die mich seither quälen.
Doch weder Bilder, noch Klänge, noch Wort,
könnten beschreiben, was an jenem Ort,
mit mit geschehen, als ich Dich gesehen,
Du in jener Nacht, den Schein hast entfacht.
A slight movement caught his attention, prompting him to look up. There on top of the wall sat the silver mech, waving at him. I a fluid movement he slid down from his perch and landed in front of the prince, still continuing the serenade. Prowl stalled when the silver mech held out one of his servos, as if asking him for a dance. Hesitant, Prowl placed his own servo in it and let himself be led in a slow dance. He couldn’t bring himself to worry about how illogical this was.
Jazz for one was ecstatic, that Prowl had accepted. During the split moment it had seemed that the prince would refuse the dance Jazz had held his intakes. At the feel of the white servo in his own his spark had decided to bounce of the walls of its casing in joy.
Die Sonne, die Sterne tragen Kunde von Dir,
jeder Lufthauch erzählt mir von Dir,
jeder Atemzug, jeder Schritt,
trägt Deinen Namen weit mit sich mit
Almost against his will a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But he couldn’t help himself. That strange feeling in his spark was back and he realized how badly he had craved feeling it again. Even though he had no idea what it meant, he somehow knew it was supposed to be there. The way their fields meshed, wove into each other as if they had done so countless times before felt too right, not to be meant to happen.
Hätte ich eine Feder zu schreiben-die Worte,
die dich umgarnen wie silbernes Licht.
Ich schriebe von Liebe, von Nähe und Hoffnung,
und schrieb die Sehnsucht hinaus in das Nichts.
Doch weder Bilder, noch Klänge, noch Wort,
könnten beschreiben, was an jenem Ort,
mit mir geschehen, als ich Dich gesehen,
Du in jener Nacht, den Schein hast entfacht.
When the silver mech returned his smile, Prowl would have vowed that his own spark was skipping in his casing at the sight. They continued their slow, unhurried dance through the small garden, completing the circle under the tree. Azure visor glowing, the silver mech finished the song, never once looking away from the other.
Die Sonne, die Sterne tragen Kunde von Dir,
jeder Lufthauch erzählt mir von Dir,
jeder Atemzug, jeder Schritt,
trägt Deinen Namen weit mit sich mit...
Separating they stood facing each other. For what seemed an endless moment there was silence between them, before Prowl spoke. “I wished to apologize for being so rude during our first encounter. Despite the fact that you startled me such behavior was uncalled for. Please forgive me.”
“Aw, never mind, Sparkles.” Jazz chuckled. “There ain’t nothing ta forgive, I did intrude on your me-time.”
Confused, Prowl tilted his head to the side. “Sparkles? I fear you are mistaken, my name is Prowl. I was sure you are aware of that.”
“Course I am, but Sparkles is ma nickname for ya.”
“But I still do not know your name.” Prowl answered.
It was Jazz’s turn to be confused. He almost asked, but going through their conversation, he realized that the lovely doorwinger was right. He had never introduced himself before disappearing… Sheepish he rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, kinda slipped ma mind last time we talked. Well then,” he paused, bowing theatrically in front of the prince and bestowing a kiss on one of the other’S servos, “ma name is Jazz, entertainer extraordinaire from Polyhex. Ya might have noticed that I can sing and dance,” he earned himself a chuckle from Prowl, who raised his hand to his mouth in order to hide the tiny smile on his face, “An’ I’m no slouch when it comes to acrobatics… wait, what’s that?”
Following the line a silver claw was pointed at, Prowl turned but he didn’t see what the other meant. When he turned back Jazz was closer than before, one servo raised to Prowl’s chevron and picked something up… and then Jazz presented Prowl with a beautiful little crystal flower!
Astonished Prowl half moved to touch his audio, but thought better of it, instead taking the offered flower with a softly spoken “Thank you.”
Inspecting it closer he realized that it was a kind of flower he didn’t have in his garden yet. And the crystal was so well preserved, he would be able to grow it. A real smile bloomed on his face.
“And that’s what I’m best at, what I want ta do…make bots smile and laugh.” Jazz spoke up.
“It sounds like an admirable goal in life.”
“Glad ta hear ya think so,” A large grin threatened to split his face plates. “Say, there’s one thing I always kinda wondered about?”
At Prowl’s questioning look he continued, visor wide with fake innocence. “Are all those optics watering colours most nobles here seem ta like so much a requirement for tha job or do they do that on purpose to give each other optic glitches?” It was hard but he managed to keep a perfectly straight face.
One of Prowl’s hands flew up to his mouth and the prince’s frame shook slightly. For a moment Jazz was worried, but then Prowl actually started laughing outright. Jazz grinned happily. It was a sound he hoped to hear much more often in the future.
They continued talking far into the night, and if anyone had been close enough to listen, they would have heard the soft sound of laughter rising from the little garden.
To Be Continued
Author’s Notes 2: I know, Jazz’s joke was kind of lame, but I’m too braindead at the moment from lack of sleep to come up with something better… and it’s been so long since I last updated, that it will have to do.
Tell me what you think?
As promised, a translation of the German lyrics:
If I had a brush to draw your countenance,
The sparkle of your eyes, your lovely mouth,
I’d draw the lash, the brow, your smile,
Like I saw it in that hour.
If I had a flute to play the tunes,
That tell of your grace and beauty,
I’d play the roundelay of the heavenly dances, like in the thoughts that plague me since then.
Yet neither picture nor sound or word
Can ever describe, what in that place
Happened to me, when I saw you,
You, in that night, this glow have kindled.
The suns, the stars give tidings of you,
Every gentle breeze tells of you
Every breath, every step carries your name far with itself.
If I had a quill to write the words,
That ensnare you in silver light,
I’d write of love, of affinity and hope
And write the longing out in the air.
Yet neither picture nor sound or word
Can ever describe, what in that place
Happened to me, when I saw you,
You, in that night, this glow have kindled.
The suns, the stars give tidings of you,
Every gentle breeze tells of you
Every breath, every step carries your name far with itself.