This is a drabble inspired by a certain Anniversary fic on the ProwlxJazz livejournal community, Molten_Ashes's "The Beginnings of Death" oneshot found here (just remove all those spaces and add a "com" after journal) : prowlxjazz . live journal. /888541. ht ml
Enjoy! And let me know what you think.
He stared down at the whimpering thing in the crib. His optics roved over its small frame impassively, seeking out imperfections. Much to his surprise, he found none; no evidence of impurity or death would be found in this child for a long time.
His helm tilted, he looked up as the door to the sparkling's room opened, a femme walking in to feed the hungry thing. Ah, there was his target. Named Pyra, she was a calm Cybertronian, and soon to be in the Well of Allsparks along with her mate. The sparkling wasn't going with its creators, which made him curious as to what Primus intended to do with it.
Well, he wasn't curious, per sè, as all his emotions had to be fed by those he claimed. The automatic reaction to take the emotions didn't bother him. Hardly anything bothered him. One of the very few things that bothered him was when his victims managed to get away, which these two had actually been doing.
He didn't bother to remove his optics from Pyra as another femme tiredly walked into the room. This one, the tiny thing's carrier, Ashe, turned out to be a bit more observant than the sire.
She let out a muffled whimper, stumbling back. Pyra looked up with a quirked optic ridge at her mate, who wordlessly pointed at him. Great, now they were both panicky. Once the sparkling was set down, the two clutched each other and glared at him. "So, Death, you've finally caught up to us," one of them stated.
Cold optics, one color one moment yet entirely different the next, stared at the pair. Not feeling in the mood to chat, Death hefted his spear into his sharp claws, stalking closer to them. Before they could make another noise, his crystalline spear, jagged edges and all, had been plunged through their bodies, neither of which had a mark to be found save for a new scar on their spark chambers. He looked back over at the sparkling, approaching its crib where the upset being lay crying. The noise didn't bother Death.
"What are your plans for it?" he asked seemingly to no one, meaning no disrespect.
"You are a heavy presence in his life," whispered the Creator back to the specter.
"What am I supposed to do with it?" for once, the embodiment of deactivation was astonished, if only slightly. After all, the Being that mortal Cybertronians regarded as Primus often did things that seemed strange.
A spark-level nudge on his being warned him to not ask any more questions. Sensory panels actually drooping, Death sighed and stashed his spear away before slowly picking the squirming thing up. Almost immediately it calmed and snuggled into him, its tiny helm horns flicking down in contentment. What a strange child.
"Primus shall provide for you, Little Gifted One," Death murmured, "for your time is not yet come."
