So I don't have any official prompts left...
Nine Rings of Vos - Arc Two: Rebellion
A Transformers: G1 Fanfiction
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: Slaggit, Cardinal! Barricade's a Guardian, not a mystic!
Timeline: You can get your freakouts on here.
=/=
(In which Cardinal is far too Zen about... everything.)
“Oh, Bulwark, what have you done to yourself?” Cardinal’s gaze was sad as he helped the younger mech into their shared home. “There are better ways to mourn our loss, why would you choose this manner?"
“The danger helps me forget. When I’m on a mission I can stop thinking about - about him for a little while.” Bulwark’s intakes hitched on a sob. “B-but now - but now... I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I didn’t mean to!”
“Oh, youngling, please do not weep. A sparkling should be a thing of joy, not sorrow.” Cardinal sat Bulwark down, for once glad that Barricade was working his shift rather than being home to greet his oft away formatter. “Now tell me, how did this happen? You have denied yourself the comfort of communion since Interceptor’s passing, and I have not heard tell of you taking a companion.”
“It was just stupid, stupid random chance.” Bulwark grimaced, looking away in something close kin to shame. “We needed the access codes for the Senate Chambers so I... did what I had ta. In order ta get ‘em. I didn’t expect... this to happen because of it!”
“... I see.” Cardinal kept his tone non-judgemental only with great effort. It pained the Voice deeply to see the changes time and loss had wrought on the once cheerful mech. “When is the newspark due to separate.”
“In a few megacycles.” Bulwark’s sensor array rippled back meekly under Cardinal’s silently disapproving glare. “I didn’t realize until the end of the first orn, and I still had a dozen megacycles left on my mission, so I kept quiet and got the job done. I’m fine. It’s fine.”
“Well.” Cardinal took a graceful step back. “We will have to get everything ready for the little one’s arrival, and quickly, since you have given us such short notice.”
“Sorry.” Bulwark mumbled as he ducked down in his seat, incapable of remaining belligerent in the face of Cardinal’s quiet acceptance.
“No worries.” Cardinal soothed, patting Bulwark’s shoulder gently. “You must rest now. I will see to it.”
See to it all Cardinal did, and a few cycles less than four megacycles later, Cardinal and Barricade were there to see Bulwark format his second creation.
“He’s huge!” Barricade seemed to have lost all sense of tact as the medic handed him his new younger brother. “What on Primus’ outer shell did you mate with, Formatter? A building?”
“Manners, youngling.” Cardinal flicked Barricade’s chevron in warning before taking the sparkling from Barricade’s arms with an aggravated expression. “That is no way to welcome a new family member.”
“Let me see him.” Bulwark demanded, his plating still wide open from the extraction - his spark chamber exposed - but Bulwark shrugged off the attentions of the medics in favour of reaching for his sparkling. “I want to hold him.”
“Here.” Cardinal calmly brushed by the hovering medics to place the still protoform-grey hatchling in his formatter’s arms. “Do not strain yourself.”
“Bulkhead.” Bulwark announced, staring down into his creation’s blue optics, the name speaking of :protection/defence/safekeeping:. Bulwark should have looked silly, the slender Foehn cradling a sparkling that was twice again larger than the average new format. Instead, a sense of peace filled the room as gentle bronze claws traced delicately over plating that was only just beginning to flush with faint tints of green, and white, and black. Bulwark’s stroking paused as he looked down at his sparkling in puzzlement. “Black? But they didn’t have any black... oh!"
The medics shoved Bulkhead back into Cardinal’s arms, pushing Barricade and Cardinal back into the far corner of the room as the medics converged on Bulwark. The frantic activity of the medics did not even seem to register with their patient. Instead, Bulwark smiled, and laughed, full and bright and happy like his flock had not seen him be in vorns. “So this was all your fault! I should’ve suspected. Damn ya, partner, can we get movin’ already?”
Barricade made a small gasping noise as his formatter turned, blew all three of them a kiss, and faded to grey, the brilliant smile lingering on his face as the light of his spark spiralled up around another light - both disappeared with a clap of thunder.
“Oh.” Cardinal blinked in mild surprise at the display, causing Barricade to snap his gaze over to his ancestor. The Voice’s optics had turned the pale, eerie colour of starmists. Cardinal chuckled, bouncing Bulkhead in his arms. “Oh, I see, so that is the way of then? So like him to leave me cleaning up his messes. Hold your brother would you, Barricade. I need to have a little chat with the medics about running some tests for me.”
Shocked into numb silence, Barricade took Bulkhead from Cardinal as the priest walked over to snag one of the flinching medics. Barricade could understand their trepidation - Bulwark was (had been) a well respected mech on his own, add on that Cardinal was a Voice and High Priest, and had claimed Bulwark as flock... Barricade would not want to be the medic stuck explaining why - how - Bulwark had extinguished so suddenly. Barricade shuddered, intakes catching on a sob as he clutched his little brother. Bulkhead was very quiet. Barricade looked down, terrified to consider what that silence might mean in light of his Formatter’s passing, only to find bright, curious optics looking back up at him. The sparkling was showing no ill effects from the passing of his formatter. That was strange. That was wrong. Barricade could feel the aching pain where his creation bond to Bulwark had once been - a fresh wound next to the old scars of sorrow Interceptor’s passing had left. It was taking all of Barricade’s considerable self-control not to scream. The sparkling should at the very least be showing signs of distress - Bulwark was the only bond Bulkhead had at this point - the sparkling should be screaming his loneliness to the skies.
Bulkhead grinned, clapping his hands in glee as he giggled at the funny face his older brother was making.
“Cardinal? Sir?” Barricade looked up as his ancestor escorted a scanner-wielding medic over to where his descendents stood. “What is wrong with him? Why is Bulkhead not feeling the pain of Formatter’s passing?”
“A gift.” Cardinal’s expression was an enigma as the medic gave the Voice a nervous sideways glance and began to hesitantly scan the sparkling. “The first and final gift of Bulkhead’s genitor.”
“What the slag does that mean?” Barricade growled in aggravation. Of all the times for his ancestor to pull this mystic scrap!
“It - it’s not possible!” The medic squeaked in distress, interrupting before Cardinal could chide Barricade for his language again.
“What?” Barricade snapped, already stressed to the breaking point and in no mood for a stranger’s dramatics.
“The sparkling’s codes! He’s inherited from both Bulwark and more than one other!” The medic shook his helm in bewilderment. “The pattern is like a trine-sparked creation though, and Outsider’s don’t produce those patterns! The source codes are Seeker in origin, which might explain it, except I keep getting an error response to my query because according to the system the mech’s been confirmed as deactivated for vorns!”
“Who is it?” Barricade demanded, an odd feeling creeping up his backstrut, impatient with the medic’s babbling as the confused mech just stared at his screen dumbly. “Who is the other Seeker who provided Bulkhead’s source code?”
“Interceptor.” Cardinal chuckled as the medic switched to staring at the Voice, optics wild and mouth open. “Your genitor played quite the trick on us!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Barricade snapped, the squirming unease getting worse. “I felt Genitor die. It’s impossible!”
“He’s right though.” The medic waved his scanner helplessly, sounding just as hysterical as Barricade felt. “Interceptor is the designation that came up for all of the source code origin tests we ran.”
“So... what?” Barricade struggled to make the world make sense again. “My formatter interfaced with my genitor’s ghost and got sparked up?”
“Do not be silly.” Cardinal chided Barricade while swinging Bulkhead into his arms and smiling down at the chirping sparkling. “That would not be possible, as the dead cannot reproduce.”
“Oh!” Barricade threw his now-empty hands into the air. “Well then!”
“No, rather Interceptor’s ghost possessed the shell of the mark Bulwark seduced during his mission, interfaced with Bulwark during the act of said possession, and summarily produced our sparklet here as a result.” Cardinal nodded pleasantly, blithely ignoring the gobsmacked expressions on Barricade’s and the medic’s faces and turned to leave. “Now then, little Bulkhead, shall I show you to your new home?”
(Word Count: 1440)
=/=
... Teehee! Processor over matter, glitches! (Where did all y'all think Prowler learned that little trick. XP)
I have no more prompts left for Nine Rings, and yet somehow I am 400 pages ahead in my writing. *blinks at notebooks in bemusement* It is my thought that there is going to be a lot of typing in my future. *pokes notes*
I have returned to Canada and begun another semester of college. Despite that, I am in the most ridiculously good mood imaginable. I have no idea why. XD
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS!
♥
♠
♥
♣
♥
A Transformers: G1 Fanfiction
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: Slaggit, Cardinal! Barricade's a Guardian, not a mystic!
Timeline: You can get your freakouts on here.
=/=
(In which Cardinal is far too Zen about... everything.)
“Oh, Bulwark, what have you done to yourself?” Cardinal’s gaze was sad as he helped the younger mech into their shared home. “There are better ways to mourn our loss, why would you choose this manner?"
“The danger helps me forget. When I’m on a mission I can stop thinking about - about him for a little while.” Bulwark’s intakes hitched on a sob. “B-but now - but now... I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I didn’t mean to!”
“Oh, youngling, please do not weep. A sparkling should be a thing of joy, not sorrow.” Cardinal sat Bulwark down, for once glad that Barricade was working his shift rather than being home to greet his oft away formatter. “Now tell me, how did this happen? You have denied yourself the comfort of communion since Interceptor’s passing, and I have not heard tell of you taking a companion.”
“It was just stupid, stupid random chance.” Bulwark grimaced, looking away in something close kin to shame. “We needed the access codes for the Senate Chambers so I... did what I had ta. In order ta get ‘em. I didn’t expect... this to happen because of it!”
“... I see.” Cardinal kept his tone non-judgemental only with great effort. It pained the Voice deeply to see the changes time and loss had wrought on the once cheerful mech. “When is the newspark due to separate.”
“In a few megacycles.” Bulwark’s sensor array rippled back meekly under Cardinal’s silently disapproving glare. “I didn’t realize until the end of the first orn, and I still had a dozen megacycles left on my mission, so I kept quiet and got the job done. I’m fine. It’s fine.”
“Well.” Cardinal took a graceful step back. “We will have to get everything ready for the little one’s arrival, and quickly, since you have given us such short notice.”
“Sorry.” Bulwark mumbled as he ducked down in his seat, incapable of remaining belligerent in the face of Cardinal’s quiet acceptance.
“No worries.” Cardinal soothed, patting Bulwark’s shoulder gently. “You must rest now. I will see to it.”
See to it all Cardinal did, and a few cycles less than four megacycles later, Cardinal and Barricade were there to see Bulwark format his second creation.
“He’s huge!” Barricade seemed to have lost all sense of tact as the medic handed him his new younger brother. “What on Primus’ outer shell did you mate with, Formatter? A building?”
“Manners, youngling.” Cardinal flicked Barricade’s chevron in warning before taking the sparkling from Barricade’s arms with an aggravated expression. “That is no way to welcome a new family member.”
“Let me see him.” Bulwark demanded, his plating still wide open from the extraction - his spark chamber exposed - but Bulwark shrugged off the attentions of the medics in favour of reaching for his sparkling. “I want to hold him.”
“Here.” Cardinal calmly brushed by the hovering medics to place the still protoform-grey hatchling in his formatter’s arms. “Do not strain yourself.”
“Bulkhead.” Bulwark announced, staring down into his creation’s blue optics, the name speaking of :protection/defence/safekeeping:. Bulwark should have looked silly, the slender Foehn cradling a sparkling that was twice again larger than the average new format. Instead, a sense of peace filled the room as gentle bronze claws traced delicately over plating that was only just beginning to flush with faint tints of green, and white, and black. Bulwark’s stroking paused as he looked down at his sparkling in puzzlement. “Black? But they didn’t have any black... oh!"
The medics shoved Bulkhead back into Cardinal’s arms, pushing Barricade and Cardinal back into the far corner of the room as the medics converged on Bulwark. The frantic activity of the medics did not even seem to register with their patient. Instead, Bulwark smiled, and laughed, full and bright and happy like his flock had not seen him be in vorns. “So this was all your fault! I should’ve suspected. Damn ya, partner, can we get movin’ already?”
Barricade made a small gasping noise as his formatter turned, blew all three of them a kiss, and faded to grey, the brilliant smile lingering on his face as the light of his spark spiralled up around another light - both disappeared with a clap of thunder.
“Oh.” Cardinal blinked in mild surprise at the display, causing Barricade to snap his gaze over to his ancestor. The Voice’s optics had turned the pale, eerie colour of starmists. Cardinal chuckled, bouncing Bulkhead in his arms. “Oh, I see, so that is the way of then? So like him to leave me cleaning up his messes. Hold your brother would you, Barricade. I need to have a little chat with the medics about running some tests for me.”
Shocked into numb silence, Barricade took Bulkhead from Cardinal as the priest walked over to snag one of the flinching medics. Barricade could understand their trepidation - Bulwark was (had been) a well respected mech on his own, add on that Cardinal was a Voice and High Priest, and had claimed Bulwark as flock... Barricade would not want to be the medic stuck explaining why - how - Bulwark had extinguished so suddenly. Barricade shuddered, intakes catching on a sob as he clutched his little brother. Bulkhead was very quiet. Barricade looked down, terrified to consider what that silence might mean in light of his Formatter’s passing, only to find bright, curious optics looking back up at him. The sparkling was showing no ill effects from the passing of his formatter. That was strange. That was wrong. Barricade could feel the aching pain where his creation bond to Bulwark had once been - a fresh wound next to the old scars of sorrow Interceptor’s passing had left. It was taking all of Barricade’s considerable self-control not to scream. The sparkling should at the very least be showing signs of distress - Bulwark was the only bond Bulkhead had at this point - the sparkling should be screaming his loneliness to the skies.
Bulkhead grinned, clapping his hands in glee as he giggled at the funny face his older brother was making.
“Cardinal? Sir?” Barricade looked up as his ancestor escorted a scanner-wielding medic over to where his descendents stood. “What is wrong with him? Why is Bulkhead not feeling the pain of Formatter’s passing?”
“A gift.” Cardinal’s expression was an enigma as the medic gave the Voice a nervous sideways glance and began to hesitantly scan the sparkling. “The first and final gift of Bulkhead’s genitor.”
“What the slag does that mean?” Barricade growled in aggravation. Of all the times for his ancestor to pull this mystic scrap!
“It - it’s not possible!” The medic squeaked in distress, interrupting before Cardinal could chide Barricade for his language again.
“What?” Barricade snapped, already stressed to the breaking point and in no mood for a stranger’s dramatics.
“The sparkling’s codes! He’s inherited from both Bulwark and more than one other!” The medic shook his helm in bewilderment. “The pattern is like a trine-sparked creation though, and Outsider’s don’t produce those patterns! The source codes are Seeker in origin, which might explain it, except I keep getting an error response to my query because according to the system the mech’s been confirmed as deactivated for vorns!”
“Who is it?” Barricade demanded, an odd feeling creeping up his backstrut, impatient with the medic’s babbling as the confused mech just stared at his screen dumbly. “Who is the other Seeker who provided Bulkhead’s source code?”
“Interceptor.” Cardinal chuckled as the medic switched to staring at the Voice, optics wild and mouth open. “Your genitor played quite the trick on us!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Barricade snapped, the squirming unease getting worse. “I felt Genitor die. It’s impossible!”
“He’s right though.” The medic waved his scanner helplessly, sounding just as hysterical as Barricade felt. “Interceptor is the designation that came up for all of the source code origin tests we ran.”
“So... what?” Barricade struggled to make the world make sense again. “My formatter interfaced with my genitor’s ghost and got sparked up?”
“Do not be silly.” Cardinal chided Barricade while swinging Bulkhead into his arms and smiling down at the chirping sparkling. “That would not be possible, as the dead cannot reproduce.”
“Oh!” Barricade threw his now-empty hands into the air. “Well then!”
“No, rather Interceptor’s ghost possessed the shell of the mark Bulwark seduced during his mission, interfaced with Bulwark during the act of said possession, and summarily produced our sparklet here as a result.” Cardinal nodded pleasantly, blithely ignoring the gobsmacked expressions on Barricade’s and the medic’s faces and turned to leave. “Now then, little Bulkhead, shall I show you to your new home?”
(Word Count: 1440)
=/=
... Teehee! Processor over matter, glitches! (Where did all y'all think Prowler learned that little trick. XP)
I have no more prompts left for Nine Rings, and yet somehow I am 400 pages ahead in my writing. *blinks at notebooks in bemusement* It is my thought that there is going to be a lot of typing in my future. *pokes notes*
I have returned to Canada and begun another semester of college. Despite that, I am in the most ridiculously good mood imaginable. I have no idea why. XD
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS!
♥
♠
♥
♣
♥