Mini Fic - Without Words
Title: Without Words
Continuity: Bayverse RotF
Rating: PG
Character(s): Ravage, Scorponok
Word Count: 509
Warnings: None
Summary: Kinship comes in many forms. Ravage muses as he is sent to retrieve Scorponok.
Notes: tf_rare_pairing 5/6/11: Ravage/Scorponok: without words.
Not where I was intending this to go, but Ravage took over and demanded I do it this way :P
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
Here.
He must be close.
The scent of energon is strong on the faint atmospheric currents that drift around the surface of this world.
My sensors strain as they are pushed to their limits.
A faint tremor.
A vibration underground.
Closer.
Closer.
Yes.
The ground erupts, the small particles of rock raining down in a golden brown wave.
Armour flares on the other as he crouches, cannons humming with deadly intent, servos tense, ready to flee if necessary.
Threat detected and acknowledged.
My armour rattles, lifting in a wave of spikes along my back without my conscious consent, mortar launchers snap into place on my shoulders from subspace.
Challenge returned.
Scorponok hisses, the static laced sound telling me more than any mech could pick up.
Threat, defiance, pain, defence.
He is alone. Injured. Scared.
I am well rested, able to draw on my Masters power.
I am the superior.
He must know this. I feel a growl start deep in my vocaliser.
Yes. His armour settles, cannons snapping offline with a thrum of power as he skitters backwards.
I stalk forwards, power and grace embodied.
He lowers himself, belly grinding into the hot sand beneath us, a quiet chirr escaping his vocaliser as I close in, mortars still active.
He remains still as I circle his chassis, although I can hear his plates clinking together in agitation and the high whine of his systems.
He is afraid. That will not do. My Master sent me to retrieve him, not to terminate.
I flare my electromagnetic field, feel it curl around his in an embrace. Safety, comfort, I say without words.
Some of the tension leaves his frame as his field pushes back against mine. Healing? He returns, the vague sensation of pain humming through his field.
Affirmative. I respond as he sidles closer, armour brushing against mine, hot like the sand beneath us.
I feel my mortars return to my subspace, his submission sending the subroutines that powered them up back into dormancy.
I often wonder why my Master made me as I am. A beast form which is all instinct and reaction. But then I have never known any different.
Lying down I nestle my body into that of my companion as he gives a soft chirr of contentment as he slowly powers down into recharge. He knows I will watch over him as he rests.
Raising my head I transmit a short message.
Objective found.
The response is almost immediate, short and concise, as is my Masters wont.
A set of coordinates and orders to move.
A big battle is drawing near. I can feel it. Putting my head down on my paws I vent more sand laden atmosphere out of my cooling system, watching the particles blow away in a cloud.
I have no doubt I will survive, I have long been acknowledged as a fine fighter. But Scorponok is still young as these things are measured, still impulsive and reckless. And he is still injured from his last battle and the breaking of his bond as his Master passed into the Matrix.
All I can do is watch over him and hope that he makes it through, for I would like to get to know him better.
Continuity: Bayverse RotF
Rating: PG
Character(s): Ravage, Scorponok
Word Count: 509
Warnings: None
Summary: Kinship comes in many forms. Ravage muses as he is sent to retrieve Scorponok.
Notes: tf_rare_pairing 5/6/11: Ravage/Scorponok: without words.
Not where I was intending this to go, but Ravage took over and demanded I do it this way :P
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
Here.
He must be close.
The scent of energon is strong on the faint atmospheric currents that drift around the surface of this world.
My sensors strain as they are pushed to their limits.
A faint tremor.
A vibration underground.
Closer.
Closer.
Yes.
The ground erupts, the small particles of rock raining down in a golden brown wave.
Armour flares on the other as he crouches, cannons humming with deadly intent, servos tense, ready to flee if necessary.
Threat detected and acknowledged.
My armour rattles, lifting in a wave of spikes along my back without my conscious consent, mortar launchers snap into place on my shoulders from subspace.
Challenge returned.
Scorponok hisses, the static laced sound telling me more than any mech could pick up.
Threat, defiance, pain, defence.
He is alone. Injured. Scared.
I am well rested, able to draw on my Masters power.
I am the superior.
He must know this. I feel a growl start deep in my vocaliser.
Yes. His armour settles, cannons snapping offline with a thrum of power as he skitters backwards.
I stalk forwards, power and grace embodied.
He lowers himself, belly grinding into the hot sand beneath us, a quiet chirr escaping his vocaliser as I close in, mortars still active.
He remains still as I circle his chassis, although I can hear his plates clinking together in agitation and the high whine of his systems.
He is afraid. That will not do. My Master sent me to retrieve him, not to terminate.
I flare my electromagnetic field, feel it curl around his in an embrace. Safety, comfort, I say without words.
Some of the tension leaves his frame as his field pushes back against mine. Healing? He returns, the vague sensation of pain humming through his field.
Affirmative. I respond as he sidles closer, armour brushing against mine, hot like the sand beneath us.
I feel my mortars return to my subspace, his submission sending the subroutines that powered them up back into dormancy.
I often wonder why my Master made me as I am. A beast form which is all instinct and reaction. But then I have never known any different.
Lying down I nestle my body into that of my companion as he gives a soft chirr of contentment as he slowly powers down into recharge. He knows I will watch over him as he rests.
Raising my head I transmit a short message.
Objective found.
The response is almost immediate, short and concise, as is my Masters wont.
A set of coordinates and orders to move.
A big battle is drawing near. I can feel it. Putting my head down on my paws I vent more sand laden atmosphere out of my cooling system, watching the particles blow away in a cloud.
I have no doubt I will survive, I have long been acknowledged as a fine fighter. But Scorponok is still young as these things are measured, still impulsive and reckless. And he is still injured from his last battle and the breaking of his bond as his Master passed into the Matrix.
All I can do is watch over him and hope that he makes it through, for I would like to get to know him better.