Title: Facade
Rating: Teen
Series: None
Prompt: tremble
Warning: Depression
Characters: Prowl
Summary: No one ever bothers to look behind the show
To the soldiers on the battlefield, the voice in their comms was always firm and unshaken. No matter how badly the battle was going, that steady voice remained subconsciously reminding them that no sacrifice would be made recklessly as long as they followed his orders. Even the most suicidal of orders was followed without question during the heat of battle. Afterwards they celebrated their victories or ranted about the defeats he had caused.
To the commanders he was cold and clinical. Logic was what mattered, not the emotions from loss or victory. He refrained from celebrating and never seemed to mourn defeats. During meetings he spoke of casualty numbers and statistics rather than designations and deactivations. They never asked if he knew those lost as anything other than statistics, taking the steady voice and flat field as truth of their assumptions.
To the mechs being disciplined, he was unwavering justice, optics impassive with no hint of his own feelings displayed. No matter how angry they might be at being here and how much they grumbled in public about being punished, they knew privately that those punishments would be dealt out fairly with all the evidence properly weighed. It was easier to grumble publically about the unfairness than to admit their own faults, since he never flinched at their words.
To the mechs at the party that had just been broken up he was a hard-aft too unbending to allow them to have some fun for a change. They forgot about the hangovers and the impact it had on training and rotations the next orn. All they saw was a solid frame standing firm despite the lateness of the hour spoiling their fun.
It was only when he entered the sanctuary of his own quarters, isolated from all others, that the facade finally shattered: his voice broke and his frame trembled.