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wyntir_knightTitle: Untitled
Prompt: "It's not just that you're different - it's that you're not the same"
Characters: Prowl, Smokescreen
Fandom: Transformers: G1 (Pre-Earth)
Author's Note: I wanted to try to force myself to write at least one piece a month this year. Last month I wrote Pickman's Model for the Snowflake Challenge and this month's entry is written in response to a 31_Days prompt. I have more work to do on this before it's well and truly done and I think that it will eventually be part of You Remind Me Of Someone I Used To Know.
"You want to tell me why?" Smokescreen asked as soon as the door to Prowl's office closed behind him.
"Why what?" Prowl asked, never looking up from his data pad. His tone was dismissive on the surface, but Smokescreen could see the way Prowl’s doors nearly vibrated against their forced stillness.
“There was a time when we were close,” Smokescreen said. “Now you can barely stand to be in the same room as me. You want to tell me why that is?”
“I do not,” Prowl replied. “I am otherwise occupied. Please leave.”
Smokescreen sighed and sat in one of the guest chairs.
“I have three jobs here, Prowl. I help support Ratchet. I help support Jazz. And I help support you. I can’t effectively complete thirty-three point three percent of my duties if you keep refusing to deal with me.”
Prowl muttered something subvocally.
“What was that?” Smokescreen asked, even though he knew that Prowl was correcting his math.
Prowl looked up and glared at his creche cousin, placing the data pad carefully on the desk.
“Thirty-three point three three three three-”
“Yes, I get it, Prowl,” Smokescreen snapped in exasperation. “I’m a terrible Praxian for rounding instead of adding a decimal to the thirteenth place. Now will you stop deflecting and talk to me?”
“No!” Prowl’s armour flared out and his doors angled out sharply in a show of genuine anger and aggression. “You will not trivialize this! What you did is unforgivable and just because Praxus no longer exists does not absolve anything!”
For the briefest of moments Smokescreen’s armour pulled close to his protoform and his doors fell slightly. Just as quickly he was the picture of imperturbable composure.
“What could I possibly want absolution for?” Smokescreen asked. “I did nothing but leave a stifling environment to pursue my own dreams. Only the Praxian Council would view that as a sin; and as you said, they aren’t around anymore to pass judgement.”
“You left,” Prowl replied, his voice as cold as the depths of space. “Like you always do, you put your own needs ahead of everyone else’s without any regard to the impact your absence would have.”
“What impact?” Smokescreen demanded. “What impact could me leaving possibly have had? After all, if I’d’ve stayed I wouldn’t have been me at all, would I? The Council would have seen to that.”
“You do not know that,” Prowl replied, but he was less angry and far less sure than he had been a moment before. “We could have argued your case before the Council. You could have begged their mercy.”
Smokescreen made a rude noise and shook his head. “You still believe that, don’t you? You still believe that the Council really was going to make an exception for me because I put forth a sound and cogent argument. That our House and its standing would have influenced their decision. I am an outlier, Prowl! I may hide it well but I am still an outlier and the Praxian council was nothing if not Functionist!”
“And if you believed that, Smokescreen, if you believed that Praxus was such a horrible place, then you would never have left your House with-”
Smokescreen’s armour flared and his doors rose up on his back.
“Don’t!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare mention her! I did what I had to to ensure that my- … that she had a chance and a choice. She had every right to know where she came from, to grow up around the helix gardens and the euclidean spires. I wanted her to recharge to the song of the crystalline chimes. Just because I hated Council doesn’t mean that I hated Praxus!”
“You would never have left your sparkling with us to raise,” Prowl said as if Smokescreen had never spoken. “You can delude yourself all you like, but the facts are the facts. You left because you selfishly refused to conform.”
“And conformity was so very helpful to Praxus and her people,” Smokescreen said flatly as he stood and moved toward the door. “But thank you for confirming what I suspected. I’ll let Prime know that my many duties have me stretched beyond my capacity and advise that I would be more useful to everyone if I focused purely on special operations and medical.”
Prowl picked up his data pad and looked down at it as if Smokescreen had never spoken.
“I factored that you would respond in this way, Smokescreen,” Prowl said, never looking up from his work. “There was a ninety eight point three five seven two percent chance that you would run away. Just like you always do. As such, I have informed Prime that I am finding you to be unsuitable for my requirements and am advising you be be transferred permanently to medical and/or special operations. To ease your transition. He is expecting you in nine minutes and forty eight seconds.”
“Of course you did. Because all of this is about your concern for my well being,” Smokescreen muttered. “Why would I have expected anything else.”
With that, Smokescreen left the office, wishing that the doors could be slammed. It would be a childish display of aggression, but at least it would something to contrast Prowl’s cold and sparkless demeanour.
Prompt: "It's not just that you're different - it's that you're not the same"
Characters: Prowl, Smokescreen
Fandom: Transformers: G1 (Pre-Earth)
Author's Note: I wanted to try to force myself to write at least one piece a month this year. Last month I wrote Pickman's Model for the Snowflake Challenge and this month's entry is written in response to a 31_Days prompt. I have more work to do on this before it's well and truly done and I think that it will eventually be part of You Remind Me Of Someone I Used To Know.
"You want to tell me why?" Smokescreen asked as soon as the door to Prowl's office closed behind him.
"Why what?" Prowl asked, never looking up from his data pad. His tone was dismissive on the surface, but Smokescreen could see the way Prowl’s doors nearly vibrated against their forced stillness.
“There was a time when we were close,” Smokescreen said. “Now you can barely stand to be in the same room as me. You want to tell me why that is?”
“I do not,” Prowl replied. “I am otherwise occupied. Please leave.”
Smokescreen sighed and sat in one of the guest chairs.
“I have three jobs here, Prowl. I help support Ratchet. I help support Jazz. And I help support you. I can’t effectively complete thirty-three point three percent of my duties if you keep refusing to deal with me.”
Prowl muttered something subvocally.
“What was that?” Smokescreen asked, even though he knew that Prowl was correcting his math.
Prowl looked up and glared at his creche cousin, placing the data pad carefully on the desk.
“Thirty-three point three three three three-”
“Yes, I get it, Prowl,” Smokescreen snapped in exasperation. “I’m a terrible Praxian for rounding instead of adding a decimal to the thirteenth place. Now will you stop deflecting and talk to me?”
“No!” Prowl’s armour flared out and his doors angled out sharply in a show of genuine anger and aggression. “You will not trivialize this! What you did is unforgivable and just because Praxus no longer exists does not absolve anything!”
For the briefest of moments Smokescreen’s armour pulled close to his protoform and his doors fell slightly. Just as quickly he was the picture of imperturbable composure.
“What could I possibly want absolution for?” Smokescreen asked. “I did nothing but leave a stifling environment to pursue my own dreams. Only the Praxian Council would view that as a sin; and as you said, they aren’t around anymore to pass judgement.”
“You left,” Prowl replied, his voice as cold as the depths of space. “Like you always do, you put your own needs ahead of everyone else’s without any regard to the impact your absence would have.”
“What impact?” Smokescreen demanded. “What impact could me leaving possibly have had? After all, if I’d’ve stayed I wouldn’t have been me at all, would I? The Council would have seen to that.”
“You do not know that,” Prowl replied, but he was less angry and far less sure than he had been a moment before. “We could have argued your case before the Council. You could have begged their mercy.”
Smokescreen made a rude noise and shook his head. “You still believe that, don’t you? You still believe that the Council really was going to make an exception for me because I put forth a sound and cogent argument. That our House and its standing would have influenced their decision. I am an outlier, Prowl! I may hide it well but I am still an outlier and the Praxian council was nothing if not Functionist!”
“And if you believed that, Smokescreen, if you believed that Praxus was such a horrible place, then you would never have left your House with-”
Smokescreen’s armour flared and his doors rose up on his back.
“Don’t!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare mention her! I did what I had to to ensure that my- … that she had a chance and a choice. She had every right to know where she came from, to grow up around the helix gardens and the euclidean spires. I wanted her to recharge to the song of the crystalline chimes. Just because I hated Council doesn’t mean that I hated Praxus!”
“You would never have left your sparkling with us to raise,” Prowl said as if Smokescreen had never spoken. “You can delude yourself all you like, but the facts are the facts. You left because you selfishly refused to conform.”
“And conformity was so very helpful to Praxus and her people,” Smokescreen said flatly as he stood and moved toward the door. “But thank you for confirming what I suspected. I’ll let Prime know that my many duties have me stretched beyond my capacity and advise that I would be more useful to everyone if I focused purely on special operations and medical.”
Prowl picked up his data pad and looked down at it as if Smokescreen had never spoken.
“I factored that you would respond in this way, Smokescreen,” Prowl said, never looking up from his work. “There was a ninety eight point three five seven two percent chance that you would run away. Just like you always do. As such, I have informed Prime that I am finding you to be unsuitable for my requirements and am advising you be be transferred permanently to medical and/or special operations. To ease your transition. He is expecting you in nine minutes and forty eight seconds.”
“Of course you did. Because all of this is about your concern for my well being,” Smokescreen muttered. “Why would I have expected anything else.”
With that, Smokescreen left the office, wishing that the doors could be slammed. It would be a childish display of aggression, but at least it would something to contrast Prowl’s cold and sparkless demeanour.