Amaranthine (1/50)
So I decided to try something moderately different than my normal 'quick, generally ridiculous one-shot' style- an actual serious multi-chapter story. This started out as my (unsuccessful) NaNoWriMo project, taking the prompts from 50 Scenes to try and write a story, but I liked where it was going so I decided to begin working through what I had and finish it on a less rushed schedule. It takes place in mostly G1 cartoon canon with veers AU (and liberally sprinkled with ideas from other continuities) over several decades, and should be around fifty chapters, but knowing me, could be much longer.
It's mostly going to focus on Skyfire and Silverbolt, in a not-quite romantic sense (for most of the story, at least, this may change) and the dynamics of the Aerialbots, starting from very shortly after their creation. There's more to it than that, but giving everything away in the beginning would ruin the fun.
Also, if you read all of this, have a cookie.
Title: Amaranthine
Rating: T (subject to change)
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to HasTak and whoever else has gotten in on it while I wasn't looking.
Summary: From their first meeting to not-quite the end, Skyfire and Silverbolt have never really been sure what to make of each other. But that was just a technicality in the grand scheme of things. (Alternatively: Growing pains are even worse when they come with explosions.)
It was nearly dark out when Skyfire finally made it back to the Ark. After all that time off-planet, pleasant as Cosmos' company was, it was nice to return to Earth and the rest of the Autobots.
All this was secondary to the staggering news Blaster had relayed as soon as he'd returned to comm range, however.
Two- not one, but two- new gestalts had been created. Megatron had decided to create ground-frames, gone after the key to Vector Sigma, and somehow succeeded in applying personalities to the lot of them. Omega Supreme had carried a group, lead by Prime, to Cybertron after them, leading to the creation of the first Autobot gestalt.
And not just a gestalt. He could almost hear Blaster's half-teasing tone in his audios still. So now there's five pretty little fliers stumblin' all over themselves down here. Might need a bigger, stronger, more experienced mech to uh... Lend a servo. Ya readin' my tune?
Blaster had gotten quite a kick out of the resulting sputtering (and scolding) from the shuttle, laughing for the rest of the transmission. Skyfire huffed quietly out his vents, shaking his head again. It was almost unbelievable that Blaster would make such a crude, tasteless...
The thought trailed off as he spied something in his peripheral vision, a hint of grey and red that seemed worryingly unfamiliar. He couldn't recall any Autobots with that particular paint job, nor any Decepticons, but maybe it was one of the new mechs... He decided to investigate, optics narrowing slightly as he moved over to where he'd seen... Whoever it was.
He came almost face-to-face with a large (well, large compared to most; he was still at least ten feet shorter than Skyfire) flier, definitely unfamiliar- but, judging by the symbol proudly emblazoned on his chest, definitely an Autobot.
The smaller mech let out a small sound that was almost a yelp, stumbling back a few steps in surprise before forcibly pulling himself together. Skyfire could almost see him struggle to regain his lost composure, straightening his posture and trying as hard as he could to seem older than he was. His brand was so fresh Skyfire could almost smell the paint; undoubtedly one of the new gestalt.
This, he thought to himself, had to be the leader. There was almost no doubt in his processor; the size alone was consistent enough with previous gestalts he had studied that it could count as proof in and of itself, but adding that to the obvious fight to appear mature and in control from this... Honestly this mech was a sparkling still, barely a few Earth days old, he should still be learning his own systems, not fighting in a war.
Skyfire was so engrossed in his thoughts he almost didn't hear the other mech speak. “Hello.” The greeting was quiet, and a little unsure still, like the flier wasn't entirely certain of what to make of him.
He gave the young mech what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Hello there.” Keeping his voice light and pleasant, he held one hand out for the mech in a human gesture; he'd be more familiar with that than any Cybertronian greeting. “You must be one of the new mechs. I'm Skyfire- we haven't had the chance to meet yet. I was off-world when you arrived.”
The grey and red mech look startled, shifting with obvious confusion and a little discomfort before reaching out to carefully shake Skyfire's hand. “I'm Silverbolt. It's oka- alright. We... Haven't really had time to meet most of the mechs here anyways.” He paused, then muttered much more quietly- most likely meant for just himself. “Not that any of them really want to meet us.”
That got Skyfire's attention. Everyone on the Ark had seemed at least cordial, even considering how he'd joined the Autobots. But... he could tell by the sudden flicker of nervousness on Silverbolt's face that he didn't want the subject pressed further, and the shuttle didn't want to scare him off. “Understandable. From what I heard the past few days have been busy.” He kept the smile on as he spoke, and was pleasantly surprised to receive one in return. It made Silverbolt look less... Well, terrified.
“...It's not always this bad?” Silverbolt seemed very cautious about questioning the normal order of things, but was obviously curious- something that made Skyfire's spark clench, because Primus, how much had they expected this sparkling to figure out on his own?
Though that reminder of Silverbolt's youth was a good thing, because now that Skyfire took a better look at him, he was really rather visually pleasing. Attractive, if he was honest. His paint job wasn't overly flashy or glaring, with wide blue optics and surprisingly full lips. Skyfire forcibly shut down that line of processing before it could become any worse, disgust with himself flooding him.
Instead, he focused on the question, and the curious mech peering up at him, obviously unsure as to why Skyfire suddenly stopped talking. “No, not always. I haven't been here long myself, but-”
He found himself cut off by a sudden commotion, four mechs suddenly tumbling around the corner and practically bowling over Silverbolt- it was almost entirely thanks to his size that Skyfire wasn't shoved back.
“Bolt!” One of them, practically hanging off Silverbolt's arm, starting talking so quickly Skyfire found he couldn't quite keep up. Not with two of the others talking at once. The fourth, however- this one colored black, red, and silver as opposed to the white and red of the others- was watching him intently, purple-blue optics narrowed in either curiosity or... Distrust.
Skyfire really couldn't think of any reason that Silverbolt's siblings (at least, he presumed they were his siblings; they were all fliers and all unfamiliar to him) wouldn't trust him, so he offered the wary mech another smile. “Hello.”
All speech immediately ceased as two more sets of optics, and one visor, fixed on him, the arm-clinger actually stopping so quickly his vocalizer squeaked in protest.
Before Skyfire could continue, the visored mech- orange face, orange visor, interesting- scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who the frag are you?” He demanded.
“Slingshot!” Silverbolt's voice held a mixture of scolding, frustration, and a hint of humiliation, the mech turning a helpless, apologetic expression toward him. “I'm sorry, they can be-”
The flier still clinging to Silverbolt's arm piped up then. “What do you transform into? You look a lot bigger than the others! Well, 'cept Omega Supreme, cause he's a big rocket ship. But you have wings! Are you a jet?”
Silverbolt's face looked more and more distraught the more the others spoke. Skyfire took this as his cue to cut in before the other white and red flier could deepen the hole. “I'm Skyfire. An interstellar shuttle. I just got back from an off-planet mission.” He focused on Silverbolt then, giving the mech as reassuring a smile as he could muster. “I do need to get going- I'll see you later?”
It would be a lie to say Silverbolt's cautious, hopeful smile in return didn't warm his spark. “Okay.” He agreed, even as his brothers started to protest, and gave Skyfire a small wave with his 'free' arm.
Skyfire mimicked the gesture- they really were more like humans than Cybertronians- before turning to leave, tuning out the ensuing conversation (“What the frag was that, Bolt?!” The visored one- Slingshot, was it?) as best he could. After all, new arrivals or not, he had work to do.
---
Skyfire nearly dropped the tools in his hands in surprise when someone knocked on the door, managing to keep his grip only through sheer luck. With a deep sigh out of his vents, he set the tools to the side, looking back at the door with curiosity. It was incredibly rare that someone other than the Ark's science team- who all had the codes and thus no reason to knock- visited this part of the ship, and the command staff usually commed ahead of time... Sending the command to open the door, he performed a quick double-take at the figure standing outside.
Silverbolt stepped into the room with all the hesitancy of someone who half-expected the entire area to be rigged with explosives, optics sweeping over the piles of partially completed junk and obscure inventions before settling on Skyfire. He could almost hear the smaller flier nervously reboot his vocalizer. “H-hello.”
In spite of the interruption to his work, Skyfire was careful to keep his expression as mild and friendly as possible; no reason to make Silverbolt even more skittish. “Hello, Silverbolt. Is there something I can help you with...?”
Again with the carefully straightened posture, Silverbolt trying to look as professional and 'in control' as possible. It was a little spark-breaking. “I wanted to apologize for... Before. With my brothers.” Here he grimaced, obviously upset with how that had gone. “They can be...”
“Overwhelming?” Skyfire offered. It was true, if perhaps one of the nicer terms.
“Jerks.” Silverbolt corrected, tone decisive. “Overwhelming works too.” He finally relaxed a little, giving Skyfire another awkward smile. “I... Probably shouldn't have bothered you for something so minor, huh? I'll get going...”
Skyfire glanced back at his project. The Autobots could really use these converters, but... They weren't going anywhere. And they could hang on a few minutes. “Wait.”
Silverbolt practically froze, looking at Skyfire with wide optics, as if he wasn't sure how to respond to that. Eventually he decided on an awkward, “What?”
Pushing himself to his feet, Skyfire approached the young mech with a small smile. “I was about to take a break anyways. Would you like to get some energon?” It wouldn't hurt to be nice. Especially not to mechs this young, and even more so to someone who didn't know- and judge- his... history with Starscream.
Silverbolt seemed startled by the offer, wings twitching sporadically before he relaxed some. Another of those small, awkward smiles crossed his face, and the smaller mech nodded. “Sure!” The enthusiasm was surprising, considering, though once he thought about Silverbolt's brothers... Well, even time with someone like him was probably a welcome break.
“There should be a dispenser around here... Ah, there.” Given certain scientists' (primarily Perceptor's) unfortunate habit of burying themselves in their work, often to the exclusion of taking care of their own systems, it had been decided to install an energon dispenser within the lab itself. Skyfire fetched two cubes of energon, one for him, one for Silverbolt, as quickly as he could, looking around for a place for both of them to sit.
Most of the benches were completely overrun with spare parts or half-finished inventions, and just as he was considering which to clear off, Silverbolt audibly reset his vocalizer. “Um... When was the last time you were outside?”
The question caught him off-guard, and it must have shown on his faceplates, because his response was met with a quiet, quickly-muffled laugh. “Why don't we go outside to enjoy these?” Silverbolt's expression shifted almost instantly once he said the words, closing off nervously and pulling his EM field close and taught to his body. “I mean... I didn't mean to... Only if you want to, that is.”
That fumbling awkwardness, the hesitance, and the pure sincerity in Silverbolt's words and actions was so refreshing, between the often frigid treatment he got from his fellow Autobots, and the.. incident... with Starscream, that he had no idea how he could possibly reject the offer. “That would be wonderful.”
The was way Silverbolt's expression lit up in response at his agreement definitely helped.
---
Night was falling upon their part of the Earth as they made their way outside of the Ark, the setting of the planet's star casting a warm red-gold glow over everything in sight.
Silverbolt kept casting furtive, awed glances around the scenery, keeping the small energon cube pulled tightly to his chest. The sight was both strange and spark-breaking somehow, an almost painful reminder of how genuinely young the mech beside him was. “Would you like to go higher?”
For the briefest of moments, Skyfire would have sworn he saw genuine panic cross Silverbolt's expression. But it faded almost as quickly as it seemed to appear, and the smaller flier nodded. “Sure.”
As they worked their way up the slope, the shuttle couldn't help but notice Silverbolt picked his way through the rocks with greater ease than most aerial mechs would have. It was another strange, if slightly off, nuance that he couldn't help but notice. His scientist nature all but demanded he pay attention to the small details.
Their journey ended around about halfway up the volcano, where the slope became too much for even Skyfire's long stride to navigate, and Silverbolt started to look a little skittish. Without much difficulty, they located a ridge large enough to both fit and support the two of them.
Even though Silverbolt kept glancing down a little uncertainly at the relatively distant base of the mountain, he didn't say anything, and Skyfire left the topic well enough alone. It wasn't as though he couldn't understand the nervousness at least a little- neither of them were exactly minibots, and no matter what scanners said the occasional creak from their perch wasn't particularly comforting. Silverbolt could probably use a distraction.
The perfect one presented itself. “I'm still not quite used the the sunsets here.” Skyfire looked up at the sky above them, watching that bright red-orange glow fade into pale blue, slowly deepening into shades of purple as the light dimmed.
Silverbolt shifted beside him, following his stare up to the faint stars beginning to show themselves as the twilight advanced. “...You've seen a lot of different planets, haven't you?” There was an odd, wistful tone to Silverbolt's voice, the smaller mech apparently seemingly dropping into thought as he sipped at the energon cube in his hands.
With how they were seated, Skyfire could mostly see the young jet in his peripheral vision, the image slightly out of focus. The effect was... A little strange, to say the least- the yellow portions of his paint job almost glowed under the light, reflecting off the grey in odd patterns.
“Quite a few by now.” Skyfire figured there was no harm in indulging Silverbolt's curiosity, though there was something about his appearance that kept distracting the shuttle. It wasn't anything obvious or 'special', just... Off. He missed Silverbolt's next question, realization hitting him like a guardian's fist.
Silverbolt's plating was already heavily marred. Dozens of marks were visible if one looked closely- not light scratches from normal wear and tear, but faded and worn down welds, places where his armor had obviously buckled (and simply been repaired instead of replaced, another sign of their dwindling supplies), the faint impressions left by popped dents...
It was horrifying, in a way. The mech beside him wasn't any more than a few Earth days old. Practically a new spark still. But he'd obviously already been to war, fought for a cause he really had nothing to do with and a planet he had no significant ties to.
And Skyfire thought he had 'drawn the short straw' in this thrice-fragged war.
“Skyfire?” He barely stopped himself from jumping at the question, glancing down to meet Silverbolt's curious stare. All at once, he wanted to say something, apologize, tell the jet he understood, anything.
Instead, he forced a smile. “I'm sorry, what was that?”
It's mostly going to focus on Skyfire and Silverbolt, in a not-quite romantic sense (for most of the story, at least, this may change) and the dynamics of the Aerialbots, starting from very shortly after their creation. There's more to it than that, but giving everything away in the beginning would ruin the fun.
Also, if you read all of this, have a cookie.
Title: Amaranthine
Rating: T (subject to change)
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to HasTak and whoever else has gotten in on it while I wasn't looking.
Summary: From their first meeting to not-quite the end, Skyfire and Silverbolt have never really been sure what to make of each other. But that was just a technicality in the grand scheme of things. (Alternatively: Growing pains are even worse when they come with explosions.)
It was nearly dark out when Skyfire finally made it back to the Ark. After all that time off-planet, pleasant as Cosmos' company was, it was nice to return to Earth and the rest of the Autobots.
All this was secondary to the staggering news Blaster had relayed as soon as he'd returned to comm range, however.
Two- not one, but two- new gestalts had been created. Megatron had decided to create ground-frames, gone after the key to Vector Sigma, and somehow succeeded in applying personalities to the lot of them. Omega Supreme had carried a group, lead by Prime, to Cybertron after them, leading to the creation of the first Autobot gestalt.
And not just a gestalt. He could almost hear Blaster's half-teasing tone in his audios still. So now there's five pretty little fliers stumblin' all over themselves down here. Might need a bigger, stronger, more experienced mech to uh... Lend a servo. Ya readin' my tune?
Blaster had gotten quite a kick out of the resulting sputtering (and scolding) from the shuttle, laughing for the rest of the transmission. Skyfire huffed quietly out his vents, shaking his head again. It was almost unbelievable that Blaster would make such a crude, tasteless...
The thought trailed off as he spied something in his peripheral vision, a hint of grey and red that seemed worryingly unfamiliar. He couldn't recall any Autobots with that particular paint job, nor any Decepticons, but maybe it was one of the new mechs... He decided to investigate, optics narrowing slightly as he moved over to where he'd seen... Whoever it was.
He came almost face-to-face with a large (well, large compared to most; he was still at least ten feet shorter than Skyfire) flier, definitely unfamiliar- but, judging by the symbol proudly emblazoned on his chest, definitely an Autobot.
The smaller mech let out a small sound that was almost a yelp, stumbling back a few steps in surprise before forcibly pulling himself together. Skyfire could almost see him struggle to regain his lost composure, straightening his posture and trying as hard as he could to seem older than he was. His brand was so fresh Skyfire could almost smell the paint; undoubtedly one of the new gestalt.
This, he thought to himself, had to be the leader. There was almost no doubt in his processor; the size alone was consistent enough with previous gestalts he had studied that it could count as proof in and of itself, but adding that to the obvious fight to appear mature and in control from this... Honestly this mech was a sparkling still, barely a few Earth days old, he should still be learning his own systems, not fighting in a war.
Skyfire was so engrossed in his thoughts he almost didn't hear the other mech speak. “Hello.” The greeting was quiet, and a little unsure still, like the flier wasn't entirely certain of what to make of him.
He gave the young mech what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Hello there.” Keeping his voice light and pleasant, he held one hand out for the mech in a human gesture; he'd be more familiar with that than any Cybertronian greeting. “You must be one of the new mechs. I'm Skyfire- we haven't had the chance to meet yet. I was off-world when you arrived.”
The grey and red mech look startled, shifting with obvious confusion and a little discomfort before reaching out to carefully shake Skyfire's hand. “I'm Silverbolt. It's oka- alright. We... Haven't really had time to meet most of the mechs here anyways.” He paused, then muttered much more quietly- most likely meant for just himself. “Not that any of them really want to meet us.”
That got Skyfire's attention. Everyone on the Ark had seemed at least cordial, even considering how he'd joined the Autobots. But... he could tell by the sudden flicker of nervousness on Silverbolt's face that he didn't want the subject pressed further, and the shuttle didn't want to scare him off. “Understandable. From what I heard the past few days have been busy.” He kept the smile on as he spoke, and was pleasantly surprised to receive one in return. It made Silverbolt look less... Well, terrified.
“...It's not always this bad?” Silverbolt seemed very cautious about questioning the normal order of things, but was obviously curious- something that made Skyfire's spark clench, because Primus, how much had they expected this sparkling to figure out on his own?
Though that reminder of Silverbolt's youth was a good thing, because now that Skyfire took a better look at him, he was really rather visually pleasing. Attractive, if he was honest. His paint job wasn't overly flashy or glaring, with wide blue optics and surprisingly full lips. Skyfire forcibly shut down that line of processing before it could become any worse, disgust with himself flooding him.
Instead, he focused on the question, and the curious mech peering up at him, obviously unsure as to why Skyfire suddenly stopped talking. “No, not always. I haven't been here long myself, but-”
He found himself cut off by a sudden commotion, four mechs suddenly tumbling around the corner and practically bowling over Silverbolt- it was almost entirely thanks to his size that Skyfire wasn't shoved back.
“Bolt!” One of them, practically hanging off Silverbolt's arm, starting talking so quickly Skyfire found he couldn't quite keep up. Not with two of the others talking at once. The fourth, however- this one colored black, red, and silver as opposed to the white and red of the others- was watching him intently, purple-blue optics narrowed in either curiosity or... Distrust.
Skyfire really couldn't think of any reason that Silverbolt's siblings (at least, he presumed they were his siblings; they were all fliers and all unfamiliar to him) wouldn't trust him, so he offered the wary mech another smile. “Hello.”
All speech immediately ceased as two more sets of optics, and one visor, fixed on him, the arm-clinger actually stopping so quickly his vocalizer squeaked in protest.
Before Skyfire could continue, the visored mech- orange face, orange visor, interesting- scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who the frag are you?” He demanded.
“Slingshot!” Silverbolt's voice held a mixture of scolding, frustration, and a hint of humiliation, the mech turning a helpless, apologetic expression toward him. “I'm sorry, they can be-”
The flier still clinging to Silverbolt's arm piped up then. “What do you transform into? You look a lot bigger than the others! Well, 'cept Omega Supreme, cause he's a big rocket ship. But you have wings! Are you a jet?”
Silverbolt's face looked more and more distraught the more the others spoke. Skyfire took this as his cue to cut in before the other white and red flier could deepen the hole. “I'm Skyfire. An interstellar shuttle. I just got back from an off-planet mission.” He focused on Silverbolt then, giving the mech as reassuring a smile as he could muster. “I do need to get going- I'll see you later?”
It would be a lie to say Silverbolt's cautious, hopeful smile in return didn't warm his spark. “Okay.” He agreed, even as his brothers started to protest, and gave Skyfire a small wave with his 'free' arm.
Skyfire mimicked the gesture- they really were more like humans than Cybertronians- before turning to leave, tuning out the ensuing conversation (“What the frag was that, Bolt?!” The visored one- Slingshot, was it?) as best he could. After all, new arrivals or not, he had work to do.
---
Skyfire nearly dropped the tools in his hands in surprise when someone knocked on the door, managing to keep his grip only through sheer luck. With a deep sigh out of his vents, he set the tools to the side, looking back at the door with curiosity. It was incredibly rare that someone other than the Ark's science team- who all had the codes and thus no reason to knock- visited this part of the ship, and the command staff usually commed ahead of time... Sending the command to open the door, he performed a quick double-take at the figure standing outside.
Silverbolt stepped into the room with all the hesitancy of someone who half-expected the entire area to be rigged with explosives, optics sweeping over the piles of partially completed junk and obscure inventions before settling on Skyfire. He could almost hear the smaller flier nervously reboot his vocalizer. “H-hello.”
In spite of the interruption to his work, Skyfire was careful to keep his expression as mild and friendly as possible; no reason to make Silverbolt even more skittish. “Hello, Silverbolt. Is there something I can help you with...?”
Again with the carefully straightened posture, Silverbolt trying to look as professional and 'in control' as possible. It was a little spark-breaking. “I wanted to apologize for... Before. With my brothers.” Here he grimaced, obviously upset with how that had gone. “They can be...”
“Overwhelming?” Skyfire offered. It was true, if perhaps one of the nicer terms.
“Jerks.” Silverbolt corrected, tone decisive. “Overwhelming works too.” He finally relaxed a little, giving Skyfire another awkward smile. “I... Probably shouldn't have bothered you for something so minor, huh? I'll get going...”
Skyfire glanced back at his project. The Autobots could really use these converters, but... They weren't going anywhere. And they could hang on a few minutes. “Wait.”
Silverbolt practically froze, looking at Skyfire with wide optics, as if he wasn't sure how to respond to that. Eventually he decided on an awkward, “What?”
Pushing himself to his feet, Skyfire approached the young mech with a small smile. “I was about to take a break anyways. Would you like to get some energon?” It wouldn't hurt to be nice. Especially not to mechs this young, and even more so to someone who didn't know- and judge- his... history with Starscream.
Silverbolt seemed startled by the offer, wings twitching sporadically before he relaxed some. Another of those small, awkward smiles crossed his face, and the smaller mech nodded. “Sure!” The enthusiasm was surprising, considering, though once he thought about Silverbolt's brothers... Well, even time with someone like him was probably a welcome break.
“There should be a dispenser around here... Ah, there.” Given certain scientists' (primarily Perceptor's) unfortunate habit of burying themselves in their work, often to the exclusion of taking care of their own systems, it had been decided to install an energon dispenser within the lab itself. Skyfire fetched two cubes of energon, one for him, one for Silverbolt, as quickly as he could, looking around for a place for both of them to sit.
Most of the benches were completely overrun with spare parts or half-finished inventions, and just as he was considering which to clear off, Silverbolt audibly reset his vocalizer. “Um... When was the last time you were outside?”
The question caught him off-guard, and it must have shown on his faceplates, because his response was met with a quiet, quickly-muffled laugh. “Why don't we go outside to enjoy these?” Silverbolt's expression shifted almost instantly once he said the words, closing off nervously and pulling his EM field close and taught to his body. “I mean... I didn't mean to... Only if you want to, that is.”
That fumbling awkwardness, the hesitance, and the pure sincerity in Silverbolt's words and actions was so refreshing, between the often frigid treatment he got from his fellow Autobots, and the.. incident... with Starscream, that he had no idea how he could possibly reject the offer. “That would be wonderful.”
The was way Silverbolt's expression lit up in response at his agreement definitely helped.
---
Night was falling upon their part of the Earth as they made their way outside of the Ark, the setting of the planet's star casting a warm red-gold glow over everything in sight.
Silverbolt kept casting furtive, awed glances around the scenery, keeping the small energon cube pulled tightly to his chest. The sight was both strange and spark-breaking somehow, an almost painful reminder of how genuinely young the mech beside him was. “Would you like to go higher?”
For the briefest of moments, Skyfire would have sworn he saw genuine panic cross Silverbolt's expression. But it faded almost as quickly as it seemed to appear, and the smaller flier nodded. “Sure.”
As they worked their way up the slope, the shuttle couldn't help but notice Silverbolt picked his way through the rocks with greater ease than most aerial mechs would have. It was another strange, if slightly off, nuance that he couldn't help but notice. His scientist nature all but demanded he pay attention to the small details.
Their journey ended around about halfway up the volcano, where the slope became too much for even Skyfire's long stride to navigate, and Silverbolt started to look a little skittish. Without much difficulty, they located a ridge large enough to both fit and support the two of them.
Even though Silverbolt kept glancing down a little uncertainly at the relatively distant base of the mountain, he didn't say anything, and Skyfire left the topic well enough alone. It wasn't as though he couldn't understand the nervousness at least a little- neither of them were exactly minibots, and no matter what scanners said the occasional creak from their perch wasn't particularly comforting. Silverbolt could probably use a distraction.
The perfect one presented itself. “I'm still not quite used the the sunsets here.” Skyfire looked up at the sky above them, watching that bright red-orange glow fade into pale blue, slowly deepening into shades of purple as the light dimmed.
Silverbolt shifted beside him, following his stare up to the faint stars beginning to show themselves as the twilight advanced. “...You've seen a lot of different planets, haven't you?” There was an odd, wistful tone to Silverbolt's voice, the smaller mech apparently seemingly dropping into thought as he sipped at the energon cube in his hands.
With how they were seated, Skyfire could mostly see the young jet in his peripheral vision, the image slightly out of focus. The effect was... A little strange, to say the least- the yellow portions of his paint job almost glowed under the light, reflecting off the grey in odd patterns.
“Quite a few by now.” Skyfire figured there was no harm in indulging Silverbolt's curiosity, though there was something about his appearance that kept distracting the shuttle. It wasn't anything obvious or 'special', just... Off. He missed Silverbolt's next question, realization hitting him like a guardian's fist.
Silverbolt's plating was already heavily marred. Dozens of marks were visible if one looked closely- not light scratches from normal wear and tear, but faded and worn down welds, places where his armor had obviously buckled (and simply been repaired instead of replaced, another sign of their dwindling supplies), the faint impressions left by popped dents...
It was horrifying, in a way. The mech beside him wasn't any more than a few Earth days old. Practically a new spark still. But he'd obviously already been to war, fought for a cause he really had nothing to do with and a planet he had no significant ties to.
And Skyfire thought he had 'drawn the short straw' in this thrice-fragged war.
“Skyfire?” He barely stopped himself from jumping at the question, glancing down to meet Silverbolt's curious stare. All at once, he wanted to say something, apologize, tell the jet he understood, anything.
Instead, he forced a smile. “I'm sorry, what was that?”