World I - Flight: Chapter 3 - Continuing
. . . So. Yeah. Bunnies attacking rampantly. Hopefully after-dinner to bedtime will be enough time to get 3.5-5.5 pages of essay done.
Title: World I - Flight
'Verse: 2007 Movieverse, set pre-Movies with G1 influences
Characters: unnnamed narrator, Swiftseek, Truesight, Swiftstealth, Nova, Radiashift, Radiarift, other unnamed characters. All named characters are canon.
Rating: T eventually; currently PG-13
Warnings: Backstory, setting up plot.
Series summary: Convoluted plots are woven backstage; a new government ascends. The Thirteen must work together to ensure the survival of everyone suited for the final confrontation, but first the Ninth created must ensure that his people do not break. AU, G1-influenced.
/Com-speech/ \Secure com-speech\
\Trine bond/ /Spark-bond\
"Normal" ~"Vossian/Praxian dialect"~
Narration Emphasis
Disclaimer: The idea of Conclave is taken from Dan Brown's Angels and Demons. Brown's incarnation of Conclave itself is based on a centuries-old Catholic tradition. Therefore, the word Conclave and its association with voting are not mine. I do not know if conclave is convened in a similar manner to vote on important matters as it is portrayed within this work of fanfiction; therefore Conclave in this incarnation is my intellectual property unless the above happens to be true somewhere in the world, in which case it will not be mine. The organization of the voting system of Vos and Praxus is my intellectual property, however, and is based on what I hope is a good representation of democracy. The unofficial ceremonial cheer is NOT mine, and congratulations to all who recognize its source. (I feel good, and that's all I'll say). Caramelldansen is not mine, and the same applies to the caramelldansen (caramelldancing?) Datsuns. All intellectual property may be used by anyone else as long as credit is given. IF plagiarism starts to occur, then permission will be required to use these ideas. Any characters recognized from somewhere other than this fanfiction prior to when the reader first began to read this fanfiction are in all likelihood not my property. And I'm sure that I may be unconsciously plagiarizing other authors in writing this work; if I am, please inform me, and I will fix the problem.
Now, as the incredibly long disclaimer is over, on to the chapter!
Warnings: You may want to go to the bathroom and/or clear your mouth of any objects such as food or drink before reading the second half of this chapter, especially if you can conjure up the appropriate mental images. Real life-based semi-crack (because people really do that; I'm one of them). The first part is a complex explanation which may or may not be important in the future (bunnies haven't given me a verdict on that part yet, but are leaning towards 'will be important').
Conclave
They traveled through the complex underground labyrinthine sectors to speed up their path, hoping to get to their destination megacycles earlier. They trusted their sky-wing-Sparked (sky-winged?) kin to arrive as soon as they could, knowing that they would reach their destination eventually.
All too soon they were approaching the gates to the underground sectors of Praxus. As they approached, the line of mechs transformed, the conversations shifting from com-links to a dull murmur that reverberated around them. The corridors were wide enough for a trine of mechs and femmes to stand side by side with some distance between wings or sensory panels, and so they quickly fell into a pattern - trineleader in the middle, flanked by trinemates with little regard for actual ranking within trine or city.
One by one they slid back into the Praxian and Vossian dialects, abandoning the mechanical warbles of Cybertronian for the softer chirring and flickering wing-panels of their own language. Each trine readied their com-access datadrive, flashed it before the appropriate sensors, and proceeded through the gates. It was an easy enough process, aided by the complex layering of trine-bonds among their kind. They were all part of one communal discussion and the dozens of different side-conversations all at once, catching up with friends even as rumors solidified and dissipated like no more than lines of basic coding. Friends, creator-units and creations, lovers, trines-to-be, bonded, all were reunited as they continued through the lines. Once through the gates, trines retransformed and continued on, joining other trines. Occasionally, trines would break up and reform, joining and forming different trines with others.
No detours were made, save mechs and femmes pausing to wait for others. They had all received the message the orn before. They all were going to the same place.
Conclave.
*****
Aboveground, much the same procedure was happening in Vos. The sky-wing-Sparked swung into formation, shifting rapidly from one shape to the next. The com-access datadrives were slipped from secret compartments (the technology being too important to risk in sometimes-volatile subspace) and passed before the confirmation ports. Identity and status confirmed, each jet-trine slipped through the gate and headed for its pre-assigned location.
*****
The Conclave of Vos and Praxus is held in a secret chamber of the Praxian Crystal Gardens, positioned precisely halfway between the two cities and so that half the chamber lies on the 'Praxian' side and the other half on the 'Vossian' side. This chamber lies in the midst of the most magnificent crystals every shaped, and contains more superb carvings not available to the public. Few know the secret of the carved crystals that decorate the Crystal Gardens of Praxus.
Each crystal holds a tiny bit of the Spark of the one who helped shape it, marking each and every crystal as unique.
This is why Praxian crystal must be cared for with the utmost caution, or else the vibrant colors will fade from the crystal and the crystal will shatter soon afterwards.
All Praxians have learned at some point in time how to shape and create a Praxian crystal. The crystals sold in the streets for the tourists are not truly Praxian crystal, as, understandably, few wish to give part of their Sparks to unknown mechs and femmes.
At first glance, the only function that the crystals could possibly serve is that of decoration, no pun intended. However, the crystals are essentially solid energon, and as such are more commonly used as a form of energy, often in staffs and various weapons (though notably few are adapted for guns). These weapons crystals are best used to help maintain containment fields in weapons utilizing toxic liquid energon and in heating metal to high temperatures to aid in cutting through anything from other crystals to be shaped to the densest alloy available to the Cybertronian race. They can also be used to power up one's standard mode (the untransformed mode utilized in common business), though this is now rare, an art all but lost to previous ages.
*****
Conclave is a relatively complex ceremony.
The whole of Vos and Praxus has been divided into districts, and from there further divided into subgroups known as pods, with an average of fifty Sparks in a pod. Membership in a pod is entirely dependent of Spark-relationships, meaning that whole creation-sectors often end up in the same pods, and that when Spark-bonds are formed, those pods are also connected. So it is that all of Vos and Praxus are connected with each other.
Occasionally a new pod is formed and added to a district, and rarely, a new district is formed. While membership in a district is roughly based on geographical locations (since it is easiest for new additions to the family to form closer to one original pod or the other), it is not the ultimate decider.
At the Conclave of Vos and Praxus, the process of voting is fairly simple. Each pod elects a representative to voice the views of the pod to the rest of the district once voting is completed within the pod, and that representative brings the decision of the pod to the district convention. At each district convention, the opinions of a thousand pods are aired, and a verdict is agreed upon. That verdict is voice by the two district representatives, one mech and one femme, both of whom are typically bonded (but not to each other, save through the normal trine-bond).
Each city has its own council, elected by the populace of each city. There are seven positions open on the twin councils, fourteen in total. Traditionally, three ground-wing-Sparked, three sky-wing-Sparked, and one ground-Sparked are elected to each council, though the number of each frame-type can vary from Council to Council.
Because there is barely enough space to house the final District Convention at the Crystal Gardens of Praxus, the initial stages of voting take place in various locations throughout Vos and Praxus, typically somewhere in the underground labyrinth below the two cities. In this case, the preliminary voting had already taken place as the pod traveled from various locations all over Cybertron back to Vos and Praxus. Each mech and femme had informed the pod leader of the decision, and each pod's leader had gone directly to the district representatives to inform them of the decision. Now the district representatives were arriving at the Crystal Gardens in preparation for the final stages of Conclave: the voting.
Once all the opening ceremonies are over, the not-so-official ceremonies begin . . .
*****
"Hey, Swiftseek! How do you feel?"
Truesight and Swiftstealth smirked at their black-and-white trinemate, who stood with a half-annoyed sigh. Cupping curved digits 'round his mouthpieces, he called out:
"I FEEL GOOD, OH I FEEL SO GOOD - UH! -" Here he paused for a bare astrosecond to lift one leg, bent at the knee, and do an odd sort of jerk with his back bent, his other knee bending as he pulled back, hands fisted and elbows bent. The whole action barely lasted more than three astroseconds- "- I FEEL FINE, ALL OF THE TIME!" Swiftseek raised a fisted hand above his head (here Truesight and Swiftstealth ducked) and began to hop, slowly turning in a circle. "A-BOOGA, A-BOOGA, A-BOOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA!" Once they were no longer in danger of being hit by their trinemate's sensory panels, the pair straightened.
The hall erupted in cheers, applause, and the occasional yell.
Sensor panels flared high and wide proudly behind him, Swiftseek smirked. "Hey Truesight, Swiftstealth!"
Instantly his trinemates glanced up. "Yeah?"
"How do you feel?"
"Fine."
"Oh, you know, just great, Swiftseek."
All around him, the hall erupted into warbling laughter.
"Oh, speaking of which, how do you feel?" Truesight's gaze turned teasing.
Annoyance filtered through the bond. [You make an idiot of yourself also.]
[Nah.]
"Fine," Swiftseek bit out, sitting down and pointedly not looking at either one of his trinemates.
They managed to keep their expressions impassive for less than a quarter-breem before Truesight lost his composure.
It was the signal for the opening of the unofficial ceremonies, and had always been that way. Every Conclave that they held, the same argument was rehashed with a different Spark as the target; it had been Swiftseek's turn this time.
An extremely long time later, the unofficial ceremonies finally finished. Said unofficial ceremonies had involved imitating an organic creature and swaying back and forth in odd gyrations and various things that could almost be considered cultlike.
Unofficial ceremonies now unofficially over, the winged trines separated to catch up with old friends and chat with multiple mechs, the formal gathering dissolving into a milling mass of jolted panels and wings and excitement and general euphoria at being home.
They would attend the final vote later. For the moment, they simply basked in the feel of the bonds and the presence of so many other wing-Sparked around them.
*****
Truthfully, there was one more step they had to take before they could vote. They still had to present the arguments for each side, extreme and not.
And before that could happen, they needed to decide which of their number would lead the opening arguments.
*****
"Who will speak in defense of the Council of Elders?" Swiftseek questioned, voice ringing out over the rapidly-quietly wing-Sparked. "Who will ensure that we make the correct decision? Who will speak as representative of Unicron?"
"I will."
Swiftseek turned, just as startled as the rest of the gathering, to stare at Swiftstealth. He recovered soon enough to manage the customary query:
"What qualifications do you have to speak as representative?"
Swiftseek barely managed to conceal a wince at their trineleader's almost literal explosion of incredulousness through the bond; Swiftstealth managed to bite back a retort, but his sensor panels twitched sharply before he managed to tone down their bond so that far less emotion came through.
"As main head of Praxus, I have experience in remaining impartial in many important matters."
"And yet as head of Praxus you are naturally biased in this matter," somemech called out. "Isn't that right?"
"Head of Praxus I may be, but nobody accuses the Prime of favoritism when he diverts funding from Vos to Iacon."
"That's different! The wing-Sparked are shunned by the wingless; have been since the First Transformer was created." A femme spoke up this time.
"None of the Thirteen shun the wing-Sparked," Swiftseek interjected quietly. "Else how else would I be able to work with my brethren?"
"But the Thirteen are different," she protested. "Surely being chosen by Primus-"
"Swiftseek is as mortal as the rest of us," Truesight answered. "By extension and association, the rest of the Thirteen are too. They will not shun us without reason as the wingless have."
"But-"
"Enough!" Swiftseek's expression and voice were thunderous. "The issue at hand is if Swiftstealth will perform well as representative of Unicron, not whether or not Cybertron and the rest of the Thirteen will shun us. Return to the issue at hand. Who here believes that Swiftstealth, leader of Praxus, will do well as representative of Unicron?"
The whole room erupted in warbling agreement.
Swiftseek waited until the massive chamber fell silent before nodding to Nova. The red jet stepped forward and spoke.
"And all those opposing?"
There was a long, tense silence, during which the only movement was that of an unconscious flicker of a sensor panel or jet wing.
Truesight and Radiashift stepped forward, speaking in unison. "Then Swiftstealth has been confirmed as representative of Unicron in these opening deliberations."
Now Nova stepped forward to speak as Truesight and Radiashift moved forward.
"Who will speak in defense of Vos and Praxus?" He waited for silence to fall again before continuing. "Who will ensure that we make the correct decision? Who will speak as representative of Primus?"
"I will."
Again incredulousness exploded through a trine-bond, though through that of a jet-trine rather than the Praxian-make. "What qualifications do you have to speak as representative, Radiarift?"
"As main head of Vos-"
"Hey, we all know we're going to have the same argument practically word for word, so why don't we just jump to voting?" somefemme in the audience called out.
"Motion to go directly to voting?"
"Radiashift!"
Radiashift grinned at them.
Fin
To clarify, ground-wing-Sparked and sky-wing-Sparked are the true Praxian- and Vossian-make. Ground-Sparked are those who were Sparked without the distinctive Praxian sensor panels, and sky-Sparked are those fliers who were not Vossian-Sparked.
To anyone who knows what I'm talking about: Is it supposed to be "a-booga" or "a-hooga" or "a-buddha" or am I just messing it completely up? (There's a video of this on Youtube, but sadly, it's somewhat abbreviated).
I remember going to Fall Rally (Southern California) at Knott's Berry Farm. I'm surprised I didn't yell myself hoarse by the end of the day - even after the cheering competition was over, my group (Emerald Division) kept being called out by every other division we passed. No doubt everyone else at the park that day thought us insane or part of a cult. ; )
Also, apologies for the long wait between updates. I tend to write rather slowly. Expect similar waits for future chapters. I'm aiming for at least 1 update a month for this fic.
Thank you for reading! And belated thanks to everyone who's reviewed!
Crossposted to my fanfiction.net account, pluvia_fides, and transficsation.
For reference of what the dance is (the "I feel good" one), go here. It's the last one in the video.
Title: World I - Flight
'Verse: 2007 Movieverse, set pre-Movies with G1 influences
Characters: unnnamed narrator, Swiftseek, Truesight, Swiftstealth, Nova, Radiashift, Radiarift, other unnamed characters. All named characters are canon.
Rating: T eventually; currently PG-13
Warnings: Backstory, setting up plot.
Series summary: Convoluted plots are woven backstage; a new government ascends. The Thirteen must work together to ensure the survival of everyone suited for the final confrontation, but first the Ninth created must ensure that his people do not break. AU, G1-influenced.
/Com-speech/ \Secure com-speech\
\Trine bond/ /Spark-bond\
"Normal" ~"Vossian/Praxian dialect"~
Narration Emphasis
Disclaimer: The idea of Conclave is taken from Dan Brown's Angels and Demons. Brown's incarnation of Conclave itself is based on a centuries-old Catholic tradition. Therefore, the word Conclave and its association with voting are not mine. I do not know if conclave is convened in a similar manner to vote on important matters as it is portrayed within this work of fanfiction; therefore Conclave in this incarnation is my intellectual property unless the above happens to be true somewhere in the world, in which case it will not be mine. The organization of the voting system of Vos and Praxus is my intellectual property, however, and is based on what I hope is a good representation of democracy. The unofficial ceremonial cheer is NOT mine, and congratulations to all who recognize its source. (I feel good, and that's all I'll say). Caramelldansen is not mine, and the same applies to the caramelldansen (caramelldancing?) Datsuns. All intellectual property may be used by anyone else as long as credit is given. IF plagiarism starts to occur, then permission will be required to use these ideas. Any characters recognized from somewhere other than this fanfiction prior to when the reader first began to read this fanfiction are in all likelihood not my property. And I'm sure that I may be unconsciously plagiarizing other authors in writing this work; if I am, please inform me, and I will fix the problem.
Now, as the incredibly long disclaimer is over, on to the chapter!
Warnings: You may want to go to the bathroom and/or clear your mouth of any objects such as food or drink before reading the second half of this chapter, especially if you can conjure up the appropriate mental images. Real life-based semi-crack (because people really do that; I'm one of them). The first part is a complex explanation which may or may not be important in the future (bunnies haven't given me a verdict on that part yet, but are leaning towards 'will be important').
Conclave
They traveled through the complex underground labyrinthine sectors to speed up their path, hoping to get to their destination megacycles earlier. They trusted their sky-wing-Sparked (sky-winged?) kin to arrive as soon as they could, knowing that they would reach their destination eventually.
All too soon they were approaching the gates to the underground sectors of Praxus. As they approached, the line of mechs transformed, the conversations shifting from com-links to a dull murmur that reverberated around them. The corridors were wide enough for a trine of mechs and femmes to stand side by side with some distance between wings or sensory panels, and so they quickly fell into a pattern - trineleader in the middle, flanked by trinemates with little regard for actual ranking within trine or city.
One by one they slid back into the Praxian and Vossian dialects, abandoning the mechanical warbles of Cybertronian for the softer chirring and flickering wing-panels of their own language. Each trine readied their com-access datadrive, flashed it before the appropriate sensors, and proceeded through the gates. It was an easy enough process, aided by the complex layering of trine-bonds among their kind. They were all part of one communal discussion and the dozens of different side-conversations all at once, catching up with friends even as rumors solidified and dissipated like no more than lines of basic coding. Friends, creator-units and creations, lovers, trines-to-be, bonded, all were reunited as they continued through the lines. Once through the gates, trines retransformed and continued on, joining other trines. Occasionally, trines would break up and reform, joining and forming different trines with others.
No detours were made, save mechs and femmes pausing to wait for others. They had all received the message the orn before. They all were going to the same place.
Conclave.
*****
Aboveground, much the same procedure was happening in Vos. The sky-wing-Sparked swung into formation, shifting rapidly from one shape to the next. The com-access datadrives were slipped from secret compartments (the technology being too important to risk in sometimes-volatile subspace) and passed before the confirmation ports. Identity and status confirmed, each jet-trine slipped through the gate and headed for its pre-assigned location.
*****
The Conclave of Vos and Praxus is held in a secret chamber of the Praxian Crystal Gardens, positioned precisely halfway between the two cities and so that half the chamber lies on the 'Praxian' side and the other half on the 'Vossian' side. This chamber lies in the midst of the most magnificent crystals every shaped, and contains more superb carvings not available to the public. Few know the secret of the carved crystals that decorate the Crystal Gardens of Praxus.
Each crystal holds a tiny bit of the Spark of the one who helped shape it, marking each and every crystal as unique.
This is why Praxian crystal must be cared for with the utmost caution, or else the vibrant colors will fade from the crystal and the crystal will shatter soon afterwards.
All Praxians have learned at some point in time how to shape and create a Praxian crystal. The crystals sold in the streets for the tourists are not truly Praxian crystal, as, understandably, few wish to give part of their Sparks to unknown mechs and femmes.
At first glance, the only function that the crystals could possibly serve is that of decoration, no pun intended. However, the crystals are essentially solid energon, and as such are more commonly used as a form of energy, often in staffs and various weapons (though notably few are adapted for guns). These weapons crystals are best used to help maintain containment fields in weapons utilizing toxic liquid energon and in heating metal to high temperatures to aid in cutting through anything from other crystals to be shaped to the densest alloy available to the Cybertronian race. They can also be used to power up one's standard mode (the untransformed mode utilized in common business), though this is now rare, an art all but lost to previous ages.
*****
Conclave is a relatively complex ceremony.
The whole of Vos and Praxus has been divided into districts, and from there further divided into subgroups known as pods, with an average of fifty Sparks in a pod. Membership in a pod is entirely dependent of Spark-relationships, meaning that whole creation-sectors often end up in the same pods, and that when Spark-bonds are formed, those pods are also connected. So it is that all of Vos and Praxus are connected with each other.
Occasionally a new pod is formed and added to a district, and rarely, a new district is formed. While membership in a district is roughly based on geographical locations (since it is easiest for new additions to the family to form closer to one original pod or the other), it is not the ultimate decider.
At the Conclave of Vos and Praxus, the process of voting is fairly simple. Each pod elects a representative to voice the views of the pod to the rest of the district once voting is completed within the pod, and that representative brings the decision of the pod to the district convention. At each district convention, the opinions of a thousand pods are aired, and a verdict is agreed upon. That verdict is voice by the two district representatives, one mech and one femme, both of whom are typically bonded (but not to each other, save through the normal trine-bond).
Each city has its own council, elected by the populace of each city. There are seven positions open on the twin councils, fourteen in total. Traditionally, three ground-wing-Sparked, three sky-wing-Sparked, and one ground-Sparked are elected to each council, though the number of each frame-type can vary from Council to Council.
Because there is barely enough space to house the final District Convention at the Crystal Gardens of Praxus, the initial stages of voting take place in various locations throughout Vos and Praxus, typically somewhere in the underground labyrinth below the two cities. In this case, the preliminary voting had already taken place as the pod traveled from various locations all over Cybertron back to Vos and Praxus. Each mech and femme had informed the pod leader of the decision, and each pod's leader had gone directly to the district representatives to inform them of the decision. Now the district representatives were arriving at the Crystal Gardens in preparation for the final stages of Conclave: the voting.
Once all the opening ceremonies are over, the not-so-official ceremonies begin . . .
*****
"Hey, Swiftseek! How do you feel?"
Truesight and Swiftstealth smirked at their black-and-white trinemate, who stood with a half-annoyed sigh. Cupping curved digits 'round his mouthpieces, he called out:
"I FEEL GOOD, OH I FEEL SO GOOD - UH! -" Here he paused for a bare astrosecond to lift one leg, bent at the knee, and do an odd sort of jerk with his back bent, his other knee bending as he pulled back, hands fisted and elbows bent. The whole action barely lasted more than three astroseconds- "- I FEEL FINE, ALL OF THE TIME!" Swiftseek raised a fisted hand above his head (here Truesight and Swiftstealth ducked) and began to hop, slowly turning in a circle. "A-BOOGA, A-BOOGA, A-BOOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA!" Once they were no longer in danger of being hit by their trinemate's sensory panels, the pair straightened.
The hall erupted in cheers, applause, and the occasional yell.
Sensor panels flared high and wide proudly behind him, Swiftseek smirked. "Hey Truesight, Swiftstealth!"
Instantly his trinemates glanced up. "Yeah?"
"How do you feel?"
"Fine."
"Oh, you know, just great, Swiftseek."
All around him, the hall erupted into warbling laughter.
"Oh, speaking of which, how do you feel?" Truesight's gaze turned teasing.
Annoyance filtered through the bond. [You make an idiot of yourself also.]
[Nah.]
"Fine," Swiftseek bit out, sitting down and pointedly not looking at either one of his trinemates.
They managed to keep their expressions impassive for less than a quarter-breem before Truesight lost his composure.
It was the signal for the opening of the unofficial ceremonies, and had always been that way. Every Conclave that they held, the same argument was rehashed with a different Spark as the target; it had been Swiftseek's turn this time.
An extremely long time later, the unofficial ceremonies finally finished. Said unofficial ceremonies had involved imitating an organic creature and swaying back and forth in odd gyrations and various things that could almost be considered cultlike.
Unofficial ceremonies now unofficially over, the winged trines separated to catch up with old friends and chat with multiple mechs, the formal gathering dissolving into a milling mass of jolted panels and wings and excitement and general euphoria at being home.
They would attend the final vote later. For the moment, they simply basked in the feel of the bonds and the presence of so many other wing-Sparked around them.
*****
Truthfully, there was one more step they had to take before they could vote. They still had to present the arguments for each side, extreme and not.
And before that could happen, they needed to decide which of their number would lead the opening arguments.
*****
"Who will speak in defense of the Council of Elders?" Swiftseek questioned, voice ringing out over the rapidly-quietly wing-Sparked. "Who will ensure that we make the correct decision? Who will speak as representative of Unicron?"
"I will."
Swiftseek turned, just as startled as the rest of the gathering, to stare at Swiftstealth. He recovered soon enough to manage the customary query:
"What qualifications do you have to speak as representative?"
Swiftseek barely managed to conceal a wince at their trineleader's almost literal explosion of incredulousness through the bond; Swiftstealth managed to bite back a retort, but his sensor panels twitched sharply before he managed to tone down their bond so that far less emotion came through.
"As main head of Praxus, I have experience in remaining impartial in many important matters."
"And yet as head of Praxus you are naturally biased in this matter," somemech called out. "Isn't that right?"
"Head of Praxus I may be, but nobody accuses the Prime of favoritism when he diverts funding from Vos to Iacon."
"That's different! The wing-Sparked are shunned by the wingless; have been since the First Transformer was created." A femme spoke up this time.
"None of the Thirteen shun the wing-Sparked," Swiftseek interjected quietly. "Else how else would I be able to work with my brethren?"
"But the Thirteen are different," she protested. "Surely being chosen by Primus-"
"Swiftseek is as mortal as the rest of us," Truesight answered. "By extension and association, the rest of the Thirteen are too. They will not shun us without reason as the wingless have."
"But-"
"Enough!" Swiftseek's expression and voice were thunderous. "The issue at hand is if Swiftstealth will perform well as representative of Unicron, not whether or not Cybertron and the rest of the Thirteen will shun us. Return to the issue at hand. Who here believes that Swiftstealth, leader of Praxus, will do well as representative of Unicron?"
The whole room erupted in warbling agreement.
Swiftseek waited until the massive chamber fell silent before nodding to Nova. The red jet stepped forward and spoke.
"And all those opposing?"
There was a long, tense silence, during which the only movement was that of an unconscious flicker of a sensor panel or jet wing.
Truesight and Radiashift stepped forward, speaking in unison. "Then Swiftstealth has been confirmed as representative of Unicron in these opening deliberations."
Now Nova stepped forward to speak as Truesight and Radiashift moved forward.
"Who will speak in defense of Vos and Praxus?" He waited for silence to fall again before continuing. "Who will ensure that we make the correct decision? Who will speak as representative of Primus?"
"I will."
Again incredulousness exploded through a trine-bond, though through that of a jet-trine rather than the Praxian-make. "What qualifications do you have to speak as representative, Radiarift?"
"As main head of Vos-"
"Hey, we all know we're going to have the same argument practically word for word, so why don't we just jump to voting?" somefemme in the audience called out.
"Motion to go directly to voting?"
"Radiashift!"
Radiashift grinned at them.
Fin
To clarify, ground-wing-Sparked and sky-wing-Sparked are the true Praxian- and Vossian-make. Ground-Sparked are those who were Sparked without the distinctive Praxian sensor panels, and sky-Sparked are those fliers who were not Vossian-Sparked.
To anyone who knows what I'm talking about: Is it supposed to be "a-booga" or "a-hooga" or "a-buddha" or am I just messing it completely up? (There's a video of this on Youtube, but sadly, it's somewhat abbreviated).
I remember going to Fall Rally (Southern California) at Knott's Berry Farm. I'm surprised I didn't yell myself hoarse by the end of the day - even after the cheering competition was over, my group (Emerald Division) kept being called out by every other division we passed. No doubt everyone else at the park that day thought us insane or part of a cult. ; )
Also, apologies for the long wait between updates. I tend to write rather slowly. Expect similar waits for future chapters. I'm aiming for at least 1 update a month for this fic.
Thank you for reading! And belated thanks to everyone who's reviewed!
Crossposted to my fanfiction.net account, pluvia_fides, and transficsation.
For reference of what the dance is (the "I feel good" one), go here. It's the last one in the video.