Fandom: Transformers G1
Author: gatekat, ultrarodimus on LJ
Pairing: Axe/Dai Atlas, Wing/Lightwing
Rating: NC-17
Codes: Slash, Historical Setting, Knights of Light, Sticky, First Time, Seals
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal 290 .html). We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Kneeling to the Sword 17: Training the Next Generation
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Just how long are you going to tease that poor mech?" Axe chuckled as he watched Wing play teasing wings with a most unusual looking mech that was new to the Citadel. Though both normal sized mecha were doing chores and Axe was supervising the Supplicants in the main courtyard, they both had time to check out all the new arrivals for potential Initiates. That one new arrival, black, red and white in nearly equal measure with a facemask and orange optics would have been a looker even if that was all that was unusual about him. It was his outer wings that kept grabbing attention. A matching orange to his optics and the single swept-back spike on his helm, they seemed to be made more of light than metal, and he was aggressively protective of allowing contact with the structures.
Wing fluttered and wiggled his wings over at the new mech, chirring softly. "As long as I have to." The white jet smiled brightly up at his creator, fluffing his armor slightly. Looking back to the new mech, he gave an intricate little flutter-wiggle, then stretched out one wing, quivering it.
There wasn't a flier in optic range that didn't know exactly what Wing was doing, or how successful he was in attracting and keeping his target's attention. And everyone else's.
Axe just shook his helm and laughed. "You know he can't do more than flirt back for joors, especially with me standing right here watching."
It wasn't lost on the big black and gold mech when the unique orange beams that made up Lightwing's lower wings flickered, then fluttered back in a spread and closing motion unique to the elite of the Praxian tri-wing frames.
Wing grinned. "I know." White wings wiggled through a figure eight, folding and flaring. Gold optics watched Lightwing with bright interest, his field making no particular secret of the fact that he was going to track Lightwing down later.
"Think you're going to keep this one for long, or are you just looking to pet those wings?" Axe teased, watching the young Praxian flirt back with his wings while trying to get his work done as well.
"I don't know yet." Playful golden optics glowed at Lightwing. "But I'm looking forward to when his shift finally ends."
Axe hummed, then got an evil glint in his optics as he turned to walk over to the Praxian, the newest Supplicant in the barracks.
White wings flared, arching up and pausing. "What are you doing?"
Axe smiled mysteriously back at the white mech. "Nothing dangerous."
Across the courtyard Lightwing twitched when he saw Axe turn towards him and forced himself to stop looking at Wing to focus on his duties. He would not upset the Knight assigned to oversee the Supplicants that orn.
Wing's wings twitched, then folded to his back again. Crossing his arms over his chestplate, the white jet watched his black-armored creator walk toward the Supplicant Wing had been flirting with.
"Lightwing," Axe greeted, casually watching over to the black red, and white mech.
"Senior Knight Axe," the slender mech dipped his wings and helm politely, once more giving away that he'd been raised a noble Praxian.
"You've been here, what, a little under a metacycle?" Axe settled into a casual stance, tilting his helm at the smaller mech. "What do you think of life in the Citadel so far?"
"Yes, sir. Seven and a half decaorn tomorrow," he responded promptly, his wings still held in a tight salute. "It's good to finally be here. The work is hard, but nothing I haven't done before."
That got Lightwing an odd look. Axe was aware of the lifestyles and habits of the nobles, and work generally wasn't something nobles concerned themselves with. Black armor ruffled slightly. "I couldn't help noting your flirting with Wing."
Lightwing barely contained the flinch. "I was flirting back with Wing."
"I'm well aware that Wing started it. My creation is the most open flirt in the Citadel." Axe tilted his helm slightly to the side. At this range it was impossible to miss how nervous, nearly afraid, Lightwing was, but it had the feel of a newly sparked soldier meeting their General for the first time rather than fear of Axe himself.
"So I have been told, sir," Lightwing responded. "Should I not respond to his advances?"
"Wing is nearly impossible to resist. I'm not trying to stop you from responding. I'd never hear the end of it if I tried." Blue optics shifted to take in the white jet that was still glaring at him. Slender white wings moved in a blatant 'if you chase him off I'll hurt you' flick. Axe noted with an amused smile that orange beams flicked in a reassuring signal back and Lightwing relaxed slightly when Wing did.
"Am I doing the work wrong?" Lightwing sought a reason he was being spoken to.
"You're doing fine." Axe gave the smaller mech a friendly clap on the shoulder, slightly staggering Lightwing. "Wing fully intends to continue the flirting. Have fun. But don't hurt him." That said, the black giant ambled off, back over to where Wing was standing.
"Did you really need to give him the creator talk?" Wing rolled his optics. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him to stop hiding?"
"Just looking out for you." Axe reached over to tweak an audial fin tip.
Wing muttered something under his breath, but his field was warm with affection as he focused on flirting with Lightwing again and getting the mech good and keyed up before Wing picked him up.
SXSXSXSXSXSXSXSX S===================S SXSXSXSXSXSXSXS
Wing had been watching Lightwing all orn, flirting with him and getting him as wound up as possible, much to the amusement of his creator. The white jet had been eagerly awaiting the end of Lightwing's shift, and now that it finally was over, he sauntered over to the red, black, and white mech.
White and orange wings fluttered, uncertain again but welcoming the higher ranked mech.
"Don't mind Axe... He's just being overprotective." Wing stepped closer, wiggling his wings. One wingtip stretched out to brush Lightwing's arm. The field there was nervous, too nervous for one who was really interested.
"I'm used to overprotective creators, Sir," Lightwing inclined his helm to Wing, relaxing fractionally at the feel of his field. "Mine are both warriors."
Wing smiled. "Call me Wing. The Initiates I've trained can tell you I'm not one for formality." His field reached out, warm and inviting. It was met with uncertainty, nervousness and an easy acceptance that didn't feel completely right.
"Yes, Wing," Lightwing responded even as he valiantly tried to control a jolt of almost desperate hope.
White audial fins spread in curious interest, Wing's field reaching out even more to lightly merge with Lightwing's. Slender wings fluttered out, flickering and fluttering slightly, flirting again. Desire trickled into the white jet's field where it merged with Lightwing's.
Arousal answered back with a flirting flick of orange beams, yet to Wing the arousal felt wrong. Tilting his helm, Wing regarded his companion. He'd never felt arousal like that before, and he had lain with many mecha. The white jet wasn't sure what to make of it. Mentally shrugging, Wing decided to just go ahead and ask. "Have you ever had a partner before?"
"No, Wing," Lightwing shook his helm, his wings pulling in slightly and field becoming tightly controlled to give away nothing.
That explained it. Wing's wings twitched for a moment, his audial fins flaring slightly. Gold optics met orange for the nanoklik before the orange pair flicked away in submission. "Would you like to have one?" His field stretched out to lightly brush against Lightwing's, trying to get a better gauge of the mech's real state. It was a futile effort. Someone had taught him very well to control what his field and frame expressed.
There was a moment's hesitation before Lightwing nodded.
Wing's smile was bright and warm. He extended his hand to Lightwing, fluttering his wings, brushing his field encouragingly against the Praxian's. Lightwing's field warmed with arousal, even if it was that strange feeling kind to Wing, as he accepted Wing's hand. Orange optics glanced up, uncertain and looking for a hint about what to do.
The white jet gently tugged Lightwing after him, leading the red-black-white mech to Wing's quarters. "You've never interfaced before?" Wing asked as he coded open his door, gently tugging Lightwing inside.
The slender, elegant Aerial shook his helm. "I've always been too busy for it."
Wing blinked at the younger mech. "Too busy for it?" There was a note of incomprehension in the white jet's voice.
"Preparing to come here," Lightwing glanced up, surprised by the reaction. "Leaning to fight. Learning to work, crafts, to be self-sufficient, to meditate and pray and about Primus. Learning what is known of the Knights of Light outside the Citadel. Trying to catch up with any Knight that was sighted. My creators were very supportive."
Golden optics brightened. "You've really been preparing for this your whole existence. You'll make a fine Knight." He smiled brightly at the Praxian, tugging Lightwing into the berthroom.
"Thank you," he followed willingly, his control of his field breaking with how much that meant to him to hear from a Knight, from one who knew what it took to become a Knight.
The white jet wiggled his wings, his smile bright. One wingtip trailed lightly over Lightwing's armor. "Are you interested in learning what you've been too busy for?" Gold optics glowed warmly.
Another flicker of that strange arousal, a flash of nervousness and Lightwing nodded.
Wing trilled softly, running his fingers over Lightwing's armor as he backed slowly toward the berth. His field was warm and encouraging, and he smiled when arousal and curiosity responded. Lightwing wasn't touching back, but he leaned into Wing's touch lightly.
"You can touch me," Wing murmured, his hands working their way over Lightwing's armor, exploring the contours. Gentle fingertips stroked over the armor seams and the smooth planes. It drew a shivering tremble from the young mech, distracting him from processing the words for a lingering moment. It was only when Lightwing's linguistic processors caught up with the input that he reached out to run his hands tentatively down Wing's chest. His fingers traced seams and dipped carefully into gaps, trying to mimic what Wing was doing without any of the white mech's confidence.
Wing smiled encouragingly, purring softly at the touches. He stepped closer, one hand sliding over Lightwing's shoulder to brush against the base of one elegant white and orange wing.
Lightwing froze and moaned, his bright orange optics flickering at the rush of sensations that crashed into his processor from the touch.
The white jet's optics brightened at the reaction, stroking the wing base again. His own wings spread open, twitching in silent invitation. Purring, Wing moved closer, his armor almost brushing the Praxian's.
When Lightwing regained control of his frame he reached to stroke along the full length of the slender, outstretched wings, appendages so very different from his own in form and function. His own wings were trembling, unaccustomed to the touch of a lover ... or any touch, really.
White wings pressed into Lightwing's hands, Wing's purr increasing in intensity. His fingers slid into the joints at the base of Lightwing's wings, stroking over the mechanisms that extended and controlled the intricate appendages. Greatly daring, Wing tilted his helm, brushing his lips lightly over the younger mech's facemask.
The black expanse split down the center and parted, retracted under the red sides of Lightwing's helm. Plump lips and a small nose met Wing's gaze, making him wonder why in the world such an attractive mech would hide their face. He admired Lightwing's face, trilling softly. Leaning forward, he nuzzled against the Praxian's cheek, brushing his lips against the younger mech's. Wrapping his arms around Lightwing's frame, he backed up until his legs hit the berth, drawing the black-red-white aerial down onto the soft surface with him.
The lighter mech gave a squeak of distressed surprise as he was suddenly pulled off balance. Large wings flared and engines revved in pure reflex to stop the fall that Wing's embrace prevented from stopping. Arms stiffened and shifted to avoid crushing Wing's wings when his hands braced his fall just as he realized that the movement was intentional and he relaxed.
The white mech stroked Lightwing's back gently, running his hands up the lengths of the younger mech's wings. Curious fingertips brushed against the orange vanes as Wing dared another soft kiss, his purr vibrating through his frame and into Lightwing's where their armor touched.
Though the kiss wasn't returned, it wasn't rejected. All that was forgotten though as Wing felt something new. His fingers slid into the orange fingers, passing through energy with the consistency of thick energon held in place by the most subtle of force fields.
The reaction from Lightwing was nearly instant. His entire frame stiffened with a cry that mixed shock and pleasure and his wings pressed into the touch hard, almost flapping down in an effort to gain more of that sensation.
Chirping softly, Wing repeated the motion, running his fingers through the energy, as far along those orange fingers as he could reach. Bright gold optics observed Lightwing's reactions, Wing's other hand lifting to the other wing, slipping his fingers into orange light.
All Lightwing could do was tremble and keen as the crackling energy rippled through his frame unchecked. It was terrifying. It felt incredibly good. He wanted more and wanted it to stop in the same thought.
Dark fingertips brushed against the bases of the orange vanes, where the energy emerged from the metal of Lightwing's wings. Wing combed his fingers through the energy, swirling it around black digits, brushing against the edges. Still purring, he nipped lightly along the younger mech's jawline to his open mouth.
Lightwing was lost to all this. All he was aware of was the torrent of sensation as his systems went critical, then cascaded into his first overload.
Wing wrapped his arms around Lightwing, trilling softly as charge leaped and danced across the younger mech's plating, jumping off onto Wing's armor, darting along the white jet's sensor net. The white mech kissed Lightwing again, nibbling gently at his lower lip, stroking the red-black-white mech's back and shoulders as the overload washed and crashed through Lightwing before ebbing away.
It left the young mech trembling and trying to hold back a sob as the final flickers caused him to twitch. He really wasn't sure he liked that part, no matter how good the lead-up was.
Wing purred, rubbing the nasal of his helm against Lightwing's cheek. "That was your first overload."
Panting as the heat in his systems registered, Lightwing made a noncommittal sound before managing words. "An acquired taste, I think."
"It does take some getting used to," Wing agreed, rubbing the metal between Lightwing's wings. "And experience makes it so much better."
"More controllable, or acclimation to the sensation?" Lightwing asked as he tried to settle himself. This was nothing like he'd been anticipating when he'd decided to accept Wing's flirting.
"A bit of both. Once you're more used to it, it will feel intensely pleasurable, rather than unsettling." Wing ran his fingers over the angles and points of Lightwing's helm. "There are other ways to experience it, not just tactile, what I just did."
"The ways that have seals to break first," Lightwing nodded.
Wing nodded, continuing to stroke Lightwing's back and helm. "This is your first time; how far you want to go is entirely up to you."
Lightwing just stared at him, his look not at all dissimilar to the one Wing had when told Lightwing hadn't had time for interfacing. Confusion, distress and a tightly controlled burst of fear all swirled in his field before he got it under control.
Wing blinked at him. "I'd never hurt you." He wasn't sure what to make of Lightwing's reaction.
"Don't promise what you can't offer, Wing," Lightwing murmured before settling and leaning down to kiss him lightly. "It will hurt to break the seals."
Wing purred into the kiss. "I wouldn't know... I was sparked adult, and I never had seals to begin with. But I will do my best to make it hurt as little as possible."
"I trust you," Lightwing whispered. "I don't know how to make it hurt less," he admitted.
The white mech kneaded a wing joint, gliding his fingers along the mechanisms that extended Lightwing's wings. "I will do my best," he murmured, nipping delicately at the younger mech's lower lip.
Lightwing hummed, arching his back into the hand there. "What first?"
Wing chirred. "I like being spiked, personally..." One hand wandered down to stroke feather-light circles over Lightwing's equipment covers, teasing the edges. Obediently the spike cover slid open, allowing Wing's curious fingers access. It all felt normal until he reached the housing and realized calling it a seal was accurate. From the edge of the housing all the way over housing and retracted spike was a flexible but tough rubbery covering.
Wing stroked his fingertips over the seal, humming curiously. After a moment, he slowly rolled himself and his lover over, settling Lightwing back on the berth. White armor slid over red-black-white as the jet slithered slowly down the Praxian's frame until he was at optic level with the seal. Gold optics lowered to examine it, then Wing leaned forward to press lips and glossa against it.
A sharp gasp escaped from above as white hips jerked, but Lightwing's field allowed no confusion; it felt very good. White fingers tightened against the berth covers and white thighs spread further apart.
Gold optics brightened at the reaction. Wing lapped at the seal, his glossa flirting with the edges, his fingers working into Lightwing's hip joints, stroking the gyros and circuits. Leaning closer, Wing pressed his lips against the seal, sucking lightly on it. It flexed, though not by much, as Lightwing keened and tossed his helm back.
Orange optics turned off Lightwing's full focus went to the sensations of sensors he'd never given thought to before. His spike sent him a ping requesting activation but he dismissed it for now. He wasn't ready for the pain yet and Wing didn't seem impatient yet.
Wing repeated the action, the tip of his glossa tracing the edge of the seal. He could feel the warmth building behind it, the prickling of energy. Pressing lips and glossa against the seal, the white jet turned up the intensity of his purr, his lips vibrating against the rubbery seal.
Lightwing's keen turned into something close to a scream as his hips jerked out of his control, vainly seeking more of the slick, vibrating heat his spike could feel just out of reach as the tip pressed against the seal. Again the request to pressurize was dismissed, though now Lightwing was fully aware that at some point automatic systems would answer for him and grant permission. Until then, he was determined to enjoy as much as he could.
Wing smiled against the seal, the tip of his glossa flicking over the lump that was Lightwing's spike tip pressing against the rubbery material. Continuing to purr, he sucked lightly on the seal, fingers sliding deeper into the Praxian's hip joints.
With a sobbing keen Lightwing's fingers curled fully into fits, tearing the material he was gripping, and his spike pressed outward a bit more. Another dismissal, though he was only dimly aware of doing so. He might just overload before that request came up again, though he was beyond any ability to work out if that was a good thing or not. He could only plead for the pleasurable intensity to continue.
The white jet trilled softly, his audial flares twitching forward to catch the nearly-unintelligible pleading. Pressing his mouth right over the lump that was Lightwing's spike tip, Wing sucked on the seal, purring so hard his plating rattled softly. Wing's field wrapped around Lightwing's, bright with desire.
Past any ability to think, Lightwing's field responded by meshing with Wing's, sharing the intensity of what was tumbling through Lightwing's frame. The returned desire from Wing was all it took for Lightwing's systems to override his flagging will. His spike pressurized into Wing's mouth in an explosive rush, tearing rubber from adhesive with a flash of pain that was gone almost as fast as it came.
Purring happily, Wing licked and sucked at the newly-revealed spike as if it were the finest energon candy, reveling in how different it tasted from a spike that had known use. Golden optics flicked up to take in Lightwing's blind, shuddering bliss as the white mech's glossa tip flicked along the base of the Praxian's spike, lips closing over the tip, slowly sliding the length into his mouth.
White hips bucked, forcing the spike deeper into Wing's mouth as Lightwing roared with a blinding overload and the rush of his very first burst of transfluid across the sensor-laden interior tube of his spike.
The white mech's intake flexed around Lightwing's spike as he swallowed the younger mech's transfluid, not letting a single drop escape. Savoring the taste, he licked along the length of that delicious spike, capturing any stray drops, before lifting his helm to look up at Lightwing's face only to realize the mech was out cold.
Wing chirred to himself, wings wiggling, then slithered back up Lightwing's frame to stretch out next to him, lazily reaching back to pull the soft, plush coverlet his creator's mentor had given him over himself and the younger flier. Resting his helm against Lightwing's shoulder, Wing let himself doze, still purring very softly.
The better portion of two joors later Lightwing's optics snapped on with a jerk as he all but launched himself from the berth in a state of near panic. Wing jumped in surprise, almost getting himself tangled in the soft white and gold blanket. Blinking sleepily, he looked at Lightwing's back as the young jet ran for the door, tilting his helm to the side. "Lightwing?"
It wasn't heard over the roar of powerful, finely-tuned engines and a transformation sequence in the living room as Lightwing literally flew out the open balcony.
That was not what Wing had expected. The white jet sat up on his berth, staring after Lightwing, wondering what the Pit had just happened.
It took a klik for Wing to make note of the chronometer, and another half klik to remember that he'd neglected to clear the younger mech to spend the night. Shaking his helm at his own absentmindedness, Wing yawned and stretched before settling back in for recharge.
SXSXSXSXSXSXSXSX S===================S SXSXSXSXSXSXSXS
The next orn, the white jet made his way through the Citadel, looking for Lightwing. It took some hunting to track the other mech down. Wing finally had to ask the Knight overseeing the supplicants where Lightwing had been assigned, then made his way to where the Praxian was working deep in the sewers. It was a punishment detail and Wing recognized it the moment he heard it. Despite that he only heard working when he approached the section, not a single sound of complaint from the lone flier.
Wing made his way through the sewers to where Lightwing was working. Peering ahead, he spotted the glow of the orange vanes of the Praxian's unique wings, noting how hard they were vibrating. "Lightwing?"
The Praxian Aerial nearly jumped out of his plating as he whirled to face the speaker. Even with mask firmly in place, it was easy to see how badly the enclosed space was affecting him.
"Yes, Wing?" Lightwing managed to respond after a moment.
"I wanted to see how you were doing." Wing padded closer. "I should've remembered to arrange for you to spend the night with me. It's my fault you got this punishment assignment."
Lightwing shook his helm and turned to continue scraping the walls. "I didn't get my alarm early enough. It went off, just not with enough time to spare."
"Next time I'll remember." Wing placed a hand on Lightwing's shoulder. It shivered under his fingers, the field pulled tight but heavily stressed. "Assuming, of course, that you'd like to repeat the experience."
"Wing ... I can barely think ... right now," he pulled his wings in tighter. "Sorry, I can't think."
The white jet squeezed Lightwing's shoulder gently. "I'll see you later, then. Once your shift is over."
Lightwing nodded and turned his full focus on his job. He wasn't even aware of Wing moving away.
Wing smiled at the younger mech, though he knew Lightwing didn't notice. Turning, he made his way out of the sewer, taking flight and going to see what his creators were up to.
Dai Atlas was visible in the courtyard, stalking among the Supplicants. Wing chirped a greeting to Dai Atlas as he flew past, descending to fly a quick loop around the blue mech before rising again, heading toward the quarters his creators shared. Axe, as expected at this joor of the orn, was sprawled on the couch in his quarters, still in the process of drinking his 'morning' energon. The white jet's trill preceded his landing on the balcony, folding his wings and trotting inside.
"Morning, Wing," Axe grinned at him. "Made up with Lightwing?"
"He's assigned to the sewers this orn; I'll catch up with him when he's out and can think again." Wing trotted across the room and climbed up onto black armor, flopping across Axe's chest. "He's quite an interesting mech."
"Is he now?" Axe raised an optic ridge and rubbed Wing's helm crest with his free hand. "Looking to take on a third Initiate?"
"Not at the moment." Wing purred, leaning into the touch. "And yes, he is interesting. He's literally been preparing himself to become a Knight almost his entire existence."
Axe paused, an optic ridge lifting considerably. "Has he been, now? When did he start?"
"Since he was a sparkling." Wing hummed softly, tilting his helm into the black and gold Knight's hand in a blatant effort to get the petting to resume. "He came here as soon as he was able, and he spent so much time preparing that he was too busy for interfacing. I'm his first."
"Wow," Axe murmured as he obliged. "Creator-driven? I mean, that's young for a kindled mecha to focus on a function." He suddenly paused briefly, only to resume, his field tense. "You were his first? Just how careful were you about consent?"
Wing's wings twitched. "I would not have touched him if he had not consented." The white-armored frame shifted. "He says his creators were supportive, but it was his decision to try and become a Knight."
"Good, and good," Axe murmured. "I wish I'd known he hadn't been touched, I would have made sure he understood the rules here. But anyway, if he's that dedicated to becoming a Knight, I'm sure he'll manage."
"He'll make a fine Knight once someone takes him as their Initiate." White wings fluttered. "He has the most interesting wings, as well."
Axe laughed, teasing an audial spine. "So my little Wing is infatuated. Just try not to keep him away from other Knights. He deserves a chance to find the right Daoshi."
"I like him. He's interesting." Wing rested his chin on Axe's armor. "I'm not looking to take another Initiate right now; I have no intention of keeping him away from other Knights." White audial fins flared. "What do you think of him?"
"Young, quiet, sheltered ... desperate," Axe considered. "I haven't spent much time around him. He is a Praxian noble from a fairly high placed House, even if he won't use his full formal designation. I'm fairly sure I know which one, whether he'll admit it or not. He's got a lot of growing up to do. More than I can rightly comprehend."
"He's young and terrified of not making it. It would probably be best if an older Knight takes him as an Initiate." Wing chirred softly, shifting his position on Axe's chest, nudging his helm against the black Knight's hand. "I figured he's a noble, though which house he comes from, I'm not sure."
"It doesn't really matter here what House he's from," Axe gave a crooked grin. "It's not like it would matter one way or another. You're trying to get one of your creators to pick him up, mmm?"
The young white jet trilled innocently. "Just pointing out that an older Knight might be better for him, since Lightwing does have a lot of growing up to do." His gold optics were wide and innocent and Axe laughed.
"And you'd rather have him with the friendly creator than with the stern one," he grinned down. "Youngster doesn't need any more discipline than he's already got."
"Light's nervous enough; one stern look from Dai would probably give him a spark attack. I wouldn't do that to him." Wing stretched out one flight panel lazily, wiggling it for a moment before folding it again.
"So you're setting your pretty playmate up with a Daoshi you trust," Axe smiled warmly. "One you know that won't object to him recharging with you, or you recharging with him a bit more than most would tolerate."
"A Daoshi I trust, and one with enough life experience to guide a sheltered, painfully nervous young mech to Knighthood and maturity." Wing stretched his other wing, fluffing his armor slightly.
"I'll speak to him again after his chores," Axe teased a wing. "No promises, but I will consider him seriously. Just one thing; please don't touch him until I've had a chance to talk."
Wing nodded. "I won't." He flicked the wing, stretching it into Axe's hand. "Thank you." Purring, he rested his helm against his creator's armor.
SXSXSXSXSXSXSXSX S===================S SXSXSXSXSXSXSXS
Axe ruffled his armor slightly, nodding greetings to a few other Knights. As he had promised Wing, he was going in search of Lightwing now that the young Praxian's shift had ended. Also thanks to Wing, he knew where to find him.
The slender white-red-white mech with orange beams for much of his wings bolted out of the sewer entrance at a full run, his field a chaotic mass of distress as he skidded to a stop and forced himself to calm down.
The black and gold Knight's helm spikes twitched. Fliers in general did not take confined spaces well, especially underground spaces, but Lightwing seemed to be handling it worse than most.
"Lightwing," the black mech greeted, approaching the smaller mech.
The Praxian jerked sharply as he placed the sound, then straightened and managed a fairly good wing-salute. "Senior Knight Axe."
The large triple changer stopped in front of the smaller mech, tilting his helm to regard Lightwing. "You are done with your chores for the orn?"
"Yes, Senior Knight Axe," orange beams continued to quiver as he settled into the normalcy of being under open skies.
"Just Axe, please." The large mech tilted his helm the other way. "I would like to speak with you. You can use the washracks in my quarters to clean up while we talk."
"Thank you, Axe," Lightwing said politely, more than willing to follow the dark giant to the residential tower he lived in.
Axe took to the air, waiting for Lightwing to join him before heading up to his balcony. Once both mechs had landed on the balcony, the black triple changer led the way inside and gave Lightwing a moment to take in the quarters that, along with Wing's and Sheerwing's, took up the entire floor. While Wing's quarters took up less floor space on the level, he had one of the very few two level quarters in the Citadel, though that was only because he was so short compared to his floor-mates.
"Now I understand why Wing has the unusual floorplan," Lightwing murmured before zeroing in on the washrack.
The bigger mech chuckled. He opened the door to the washrack, watching as Lightwing made a beeline for the shower. "Being shorter than the rest of his family gives him more options space-wise." Axe leaned on the doorframe. "He tells me you've wanted to be a Knight almost your whole existence."
Lightwing nodded and turned on the shower with the lower set of controls, installed for Wing. "Since I was a second-stage sparkling, about fifteen vorns old. Maybe before, but that was when I learned the designation for it." He sighed with relief as the solvent began to rain down, drawing the stench of the sewers away from his primary olfactory sensors as he simply stood there and let it wash away the liquid muck.
Wing touched down on the balcony, slipping inside. Finding a place where he could eavesdrop without being noticed, the white mech settled in, audial fins flared wide, listening.
Axe watched from where he stood. "In the time you've been here, have you spoken to many of the senior Knights, found someone that you connect with better than others?"
Orange wing-fingers twitched. "My half-brother, but that's a kinship thing, and Wing?"
"Your kin wouldn't be the one to train you, though." Axe shifted slightly, noting Wing's arrival and flinching on the inside. He was rather hoping his creation would hear about consent and Lightwing's perspective of it filtered through Axe's words, not directly as it was explained. "Wing does not wish to train you."
He saw the flare and settle of those unique wings and understood very well his elder creation's desire to touch. He also understood the shock his words held as the Praxian stilled, then slowly turned around with confusion written on his features.
"Why such interest in me, then?" Lightwing asked quietly, controlling the hurt admirably.
"Wing is... a very sensual creature," Axe replied after a moment. "He's not interested in you as an Initiate. He does not understand the rules where you came from. What most of Cybertron operates under."
Lightwing's helm cocked to one side. "He's your creation."
"My mate and I adopted him when he was already a Senior Knight," Axe explained. "We did not raise him."
"Oh," Lightwing stilled again, a myriad of emotions rippling through him in an unending torrent.
Axe allowed him time to absorb the information before driving it home again. "You have the right to refuse the Sovereign himself, and do so without repercussion."
Wing's audial flares twitched before flattening closer to his helm. His wings quivered against his back, armor pulling closer to his frame. Fear that he had done something wrong, read Lightwing's signals all wrong, rippled through his frame.
Axe hated doing that to his creation. It was his own fault too, for not picking up that Lightwing needed a very different warning than the one he got.
Lightwing simply stood there for a long time, trying to assimilate such an alien concept. "How does society function without the rights of rank?"
The white jet huddled in on himself. Apparently he'd read the signals all wrong, read Lightwing all wrong. There was probably going to be a penance in Wing's near future. If he was lucky, he'd come through it in one piece.
"Quite well," Axe could only shrug. "It's weird to get used to, but basically it comes down to the lower ranks are kept in check by penances and peer pressure, and the upper ranks kept in check by the same. They're very big on penance once you are an Initiate, and even more into it for Knights."
Lightwing was given a moment to assess that, and he cringed. "You don't need to tell Wing. He didn't mean to do anything wrong."
He hadn't meant to, but Wing had still made a big mistake. The white jet had pretty much curled into a trembling ball, and only the fact that his armor was pulled tight to his frame kept it from rattling audibly. Pulling his helm down between his shoulders, nacelle pinions clamped down so tight they were almost denting his nacelles, Wing forcefully suppressed a distressed keen.
"He already knows," Axe said quietly. "He snuck in to listen."
Wing trembled, then slowly emerged from where he'd been lurking. His armor was tight to his frame, wings so tight to his back the joints were creaking. Dulled gold optics lifted to meet Lightwing's briefly, then dropped again.
Lightwing pulled his own wings tight and stared. He didn't know what to do. Reflex made him want to assure the higher ranked mecha. Axe's words made him want to speak the truth.
Wing kept his distance, not sure what to do or say. He kept his optics down, not looking at either of the other two mechs.
"Wing ... for what it may be worth here, I forgive you any part you played in this misunderstanding," Lightwing still struggled with his feelings, but was compelled to say something and fell back on his home culture of believing that Wing had done nothing wrong, even if he had. It wasn't as if Lightwing had been saving himself. He'd just been too busy to bother, and Wing had made it feel good. Unsettling, but good.
"Lightwing, you wish to become a Knight of Light?" Axe focused on him as an idea occurred to him.
"Yes," the youth couldn't put more desire into it if his very spark depended on it. "More than anything."
"Then your first lesson from a Knight will be now. Whether I finish your training or not," Axe said firmly. "My creation will face a penance binding for this to clear his spark. I would have you watch over it."
Wing's wings twitched, and his smile was very faint. "But I can't forgive myself, and I will face my punishment for it." The quiver of white plating hinted that he was not looking forward to it, and he'd expected something worse than just a binding.
"A complaint must be filed by someone for anything more," Axe glanced at his creation. "Until then, it is only your spark that must be cleared of wrong." He turned to look at Lightwing. "Overseeing a binding is not a small matter. It is possible to extinguish during the processes, though extremely rare. It is important that you watch for signs of graying beyond the forearms."
Lightwing nodded seriously. "I will."
Wing inhaled deeply, easing closer. He looked up at Axe. "I'm ready."
"Good," Axe nodded. "Go meditate in your quarters until Lightwing is ready and I have alerted Aurora, Vanguard and Atl."
Wing nodded. He turned, choosing to walk to his quarters rather than fly. His plating remained clamped to his frame, wings tight to his back. Axe and Lightwing watched him go, then Axe looked at the Supplicant. "Finish cleaning up while I make arrangements for you and Wing to be absent until he is done."
"Yes Axe," Lightwing responded and turned to grab the liquid soap and a brush to scrub himself flawlessly clean.
The black and gold Knight watched for a moment, then turned and walked out into the main room. Activating his comm, he contacted Aurora and Atl, informing both of them that Wing and Lightwing would be absent for a time and that it was for a binding. How long, he wasn't sure yet.
::Axe ... I was not expecting to hear from you yet,:: Vanguard sounded genuinely surprised. ::You have already taken on Lightwing?::
::I will be taking Lightwing on, if he accepts.:: Axe shifted slightly. ::Wing is about to undergo a binding. Lightwing will be overseeing it.::
::I take it something happened between them that Lightwing is unwilling to complain about,:: the Sovereign heard between the lines easily. ::I will protect them from any issues their absence attempts to create.::
::Thank you, and yes.:: Axe didn't elaborate any more than that and Vanguard did not ask. ::I'm not sure how long this may take.::
::As with any penance binding,:: Vanguard said with full understanding. ::Alert me if an issue comes up that requires my attention.::
::I will. Again, thank you.:: Axe inclined his helm ever so slightly, though he knew the Sovereign couldn't see him. Somehow it did not surprise him when he heard Lightwing emerge from the washrack so soon. He had no doubt the young noble had been drilled in how to move fast when it was required. "Everything is arranged. You have no obligations until the binding is finished and you have recovered."
Lightwing nodded his understanding.
"Take a seat," he motioned to a rarely-used table with four chairs, one designed for a normal sized mecha to sit with three giants. "You need energon before this begins. If I know my creation, it will not be a quick process."
"Yes, Axe," Lightwing nodded and jumped up to the seat Wing typically occupied, watching as the black and gold giant got two cubes of energon, one sized for each of them, and set the smaller one in front of Lightwing.
"You must have questions. Please ask them." Axe instructed as he sat and sipped at his lunch.
Lightwing paused, the cube at his lips. He unstalled the motion, took a slow drink of the good quality jet energon to give himself time to think.
"How will I know when it is finished?" Lightwing asked.
"When Wing is ready, his field will reach out to touch yours, and that is how you will know when he is ready to be released," Axe answered, taking a sip of his own energon.
"This is a punishment?" Lightwing cocked his helm before focusing on his meal.
"It can also be used as meditation, but this is a penance." Axe met Lightwing's optics squarely. "It might be more than a little disturbing to witness, I will not lie to you."
"Punishments should be," he murmured. "How can a punishment be effective when the one punished determines when it is over?"
"It's hard to explain without your having experienced it for yourself. But it does not end until everything has been faced and dealt with. Believe me, it is a very effective punishment," the larger mech replied.
Lightwing nodded his acceptance that it was not something he was to understand yet. "What am I to do while he is bound?"
"Stay nearby and keep an optic on him. When you begin Knight training you yourself will have to undergo meditation bindings, and probably the occasional penance binding." Axe shifted his cube to his other hand, one helm spike twitching.
"I understand, Axe," he said simply. "Would meditation be an acceptable way to spend the time?"
"Yes, as long as you remain aware enough to sense Wing's field when he is ready to be released." The black and gold Knight nodded.
"I will," Lightwing promised as he finished his energon. "When he is done, what should I do?"
"When he is ready to be released, remove the binding from his wrists. You'll have to catch him to keep him from collapsing," the black mech told him. "His hands will be grayed and cold from lack of power or energon flows; he won't be able to catch himself. Contact me, and I will bring energon for both of you."
"I understand, Axe," Lightwing nodded seriously. "I believe I am as ready as I can be."
Axe nodded, finishing his own cube. "I will summon Wing, then," he said as he stood and motioned Lightwing to follow him into the smallest room of apartment, one that was largely bare. There was a storage cabinet and nothing else.
Only as Wing entered did Lightwing notice the sets hooks on one wall; one near his throat level, and one well above it.
Wing's bearing was more formal than usual, helm up. Gold optics flicked from Axe to Lightwing. "I'm ready."
Axe nodded and motioned Wing to the lower set of hooks as he walked to the cabinet. A meditation rug was brought out for Lightwing, then a coil of orange cord.
Wing walked over, lifting his Great Sword from its resting place between his wings and setting it into the lower wall brackets. His fingers brushed over the hilt before he turned to face Axe, lifting his arms, holding his wrists slightly apart.
Instead of doing so himself, Axe handed the coil to Lightwing. "He will hang from this, so bind him well."
The young mech flared his wings slightly in surprise, but took the cord and considered his task for a moment while the Knights watched. His wings settled fully when he made up his processors and stepped up to Wing. The cord was wrapped around one wrist, the end held in place by a level over it. The looping cross-hatch passed from one wrist to the other until it went all the way to Wing's elbows. A single loop passed under an elbow spike on each arm to the forearm, then up to loop around two fingers. It would deny Wing the ability to straighten his arms off the 60-degree angle they were in now. With that in place the end of the cord was secured to the cross-links between Wing's wrists and the Praxian stepped back, glancing at both for approval of his work.
White wings twitched as Wing regarded the binding. It was one of the more intricate he'd ever been bound with. "That'll work..."
Axe ran a critical optic over the binding. Wing was going to be in quite a bit of pain when this binding was over, but the white jet wasn't complaining. He nodded his acceptance and left the room after making sure Lightwing had his comm.
They'd both felt that this pattern meant something to the young Praxian, though it wasn't clear what.
Wing stepped back, turning toward his Great Sword. Venting heavily, he lifted his arms to loop the binding over the gemmed hilt, settling into a kneeling position as best he could. Letting out a long ex-vent, he rested his forehelm against the long blade, dimmed his optics, and settled into a trance state.
Behind him Lightwing watched silently, almost instinctively calculating the time it would take for each level of pain, each level of damage, to be done. Calculating how long Wing could remain there before lack of energy forced him to shut down. With those times set in his processor, he set the meditation out directly behind Wing where their fields could touch when it was time and knelt to settle into his own meditations on what had brought this about.
It took about a half breem before tremors began running through Wing's frame, drawing Lightwing's focus to him. White plating rattled and wings twitched, flopping out behind him. A tiny whine escaped his vocalizer. Yet it wasn't a whine of pain. Lightwing knew what that sounded like, and he knew that it was far too soon for one with warrior training to admit to the minor discomfort he would be in now.
He extended his field to brush the edge of Wing's, seeking to understand a little better.
Wing's entire focus was turned inward. Guilt and emotional turmoil roiled through his field. Over his helm, the Great Sword's gem glowed from within, a bright, clear blue. The jet whimpered softly, one wing spasming.
Lightwing could see how this would be disturbing for many to witness.
He found it ... soothing ... at the moment. He had little doubt that Axe knew that he did bear ill feelings over what had happened.
As the time passed, wing spasms became full-frame convulsions. Wing went from utterly still to spasming and convulsing, fighting the binding only to sink back down into his kneeling position. The sounds he made ranged from soft moans and whimpers to barely understandable pleading to spark-rending keening.
Lightwing didn't understand how meditation, even in a painful position, could do this. His optics were drawn once more to the glowing gem in the hilt of the Great Sword. He knew they were mystical, artifacts of an ancient time. He'd heard they were sentient, on a level. Heard it from a Knight of Light, so he believed it. Was that it, that connection to Primus? It would explain what was going on.
The binding dragged on for joors, deep into the night. It wasn't until near dawn that the white jet went completely limp, his respiration ragged, wings hanging loose down his back. His hands and forearms had gone gray, the red stabilizer blades on his arms having faded to a washed-out shade from lack of energon flow. His field eased outward, brushing against Lightwing's, indicating that Wing was finally ready for release.
::Axe, he's done,:: Lightwing pinged the elder Knight and reached up to grab Wing's forearms, using his thrusters to pull him off and away from the wall, then settling on the floor to undo his intricate knot work with dexterous fingers.
::I'll be right there,:: the black and gold giant replied.
Wing lay limp on the floor, staying still as his cold hands were released. His optics were dimly lit. He barely reacted to Lightwing's presence. Lightwing simply knelt next to him and carefully wound the cord into the spool he had received it in.
Heavy pedefalls announced Axe's arrival. The large mech carried two energon cubes in his hand. Blue optics swept over the two smaller mechs before Axe knelt down, passing one of the cubes to Lightwing. Lifting Wing into his lap, Axe began kneading his creation's hands, encouraging the power and energon flows to return. Slowly, Wing's optics powered up, glowing softly.
Lightwing watched carefully as he sipped on the energon. This would be important to remember. He had no doubt of it. He would need to make time to meditate on all he'd felt from Wing and what it did to him. This was nothing like anything he had witnessed, much less experienced.
Once Wing began to stir ever so slightly, Axe's optics turned toward Lightwing. "Does that answer your questions about the effectiveness of binding as a punishment?"
"Yes, Axe," he inclined his helm. "Though it raises more than it answered, I am sure the answers will come in time."
"Some of those answers won't come until after your training is complete," Axe replied. He looked down at the stirring white mech in his lap. "Others will come when you undergo your own first binding." He released Wing's hand, reaching for the other. "By Knight law, Wing has been appropriately punished for what he has done. Anything that remains is for you and he to work out."
Lightwing inclined his helm in understanding. "This is far more than I expected."
Axe tilted his helm, one of his helm spikes twitching. "Might I ask what you were expecting?"
"Nothing," black, white and orange wings flicked. "I believed he was within his rights. It will take time to acclimate to such different social standards from what I grew up with."
"Things are very different here, and I know it will take a while to adjust. Dai Atlas and myself took quite some time to adapt, as well. Wing has lived here almost his whole life; he knows little about social rules and norms outside the Citadel." Axe shifted the white mech closer to his torso, Wing curling into black armor. "Both you and he have this orn off. Once both of you have rested and recharged, perhaps it would be good for both of you to talk and work out whatever remains between you."
"Yes, Axe," Lightwing accepted the suggestion as an order and stood smoothly. "I will come to his quarters after I recharge."
"He'll probably be spending some time in here with myself and my mate, but I will be sending him back to his quarters when my shift begins. Just be sure to comm ahead." The black and gold Knight picked up the second energon cube, passing it to Wing as the white mech reached for it. Wing murmured his thanks, taking a long drink.
"I will," Lightwing promised before slipping from the room, leaving Axe with his mature creation to recover as they wished to. He had much to think about, and he did need to recharge.
Wing watched the other flier leave, shifting slightly on Axe's lap. Golden optics dimmed, slender wings slowly settling back into their usual tuck, tight to his back plating. He felt so very tired, trying not to drift off before he finished his energon. He was barely aware of Axe taking him into the larger Knight's berthroom to recharge with him and Dai Atlas.
SXSXSXSXSXSXSXSX S===================S SXSXSXSXSXSXSXS
It was late afternoon when Lightwing had finished recharging and meditated on the penance he had witnessed enough to be ready to face Wing once more. He'd commed ahead, as instructed, and Wing was in his quarters waiting for him when he landed on the balcony of the strange two-story quarters.
Wing was curled up in his plush blanket on the couch, the smooth lines of his armor hidden under soft gold and white. He looked up as Lightwing arrived, shifting into a more upright position. "Come in."
"Your creator believes we are not done," Lightwing said quietly as he came to stand before Wing. Bright orange optics looked in Wing's direction without actually looking at him.
The white mech freed one arm from his cocoon, waving Lightwing to a chair. "I know. He's of the opinion we should talk things out, try and work things out between us." Wing shifted slightly. "If Axe does take you as his Initiate, we will be seeing quite a bit of each other... I would rather be on good terms with you, rather than you hating me for what I did."
Lightwing sat where he'd been motioned to and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. "I would as well. I truly did not believe I could say no. Not without risking what chance I might have to become a Knight."
Wing seemed to sink deeper into his soft cocoon. "I was unaware you didn't know. Anyone can say no here, without any real consequences. You had every right to tell me to shove off if you wanted to, and I deeply apologize for not making that clear."
"I did not know. You did not know," Lightwing sighed with a light huff. "It wasn't as if I was trying to save myself; I told you the truth that I simply never made time for it. It felt good. I just ... I wish it had happened with my processors in a different place."
"Still. I should have realized, I should have made sure you knew. That was my own failing." Wing's optics dropped. "I never meant to hurt you or force you into something you did not want but could see no way out of."
"It happened, Wing," Lightwing glanced up. "Nothing's going to change that. There is only how we move forward. I was brought up that holding onto pain is not the way one should exist. It happens, one learns from it, one moves on. I may feel strange around you for a time, but it will pass. I have not finished meditating on it."
"I hope we can work out things well enough to at least coexist peacefully." Wing shifted in his soft cocoon, letting the blanket fall away so the younger mech could clearly see as the white jet placed a hand on his chestplate. "And I swear on my spark that I will not touch you again, unless you come to me having thought everything through and of your own will."
"Thank you," Lightwing met Wing's optics briefly. "If you can let go of the guilt, we can. A decaorn should be enough for me to settle on how I feel and move on fully. It was not a bad experience," he smiled shyly. "It was just poorly timed. I would have liked to know you better first, than to be a stranger in your berth; a conquest rather than a friend."
Wing returned the smile. "I do think we can do that. Take all the time you need."
"Axe ... is really inclined to take me as his Initiate?" Lightwing tried to keep the desperate hope from his voice and wings.
"He is," Wing confirmed. "You'll like him, I think. He's much more laid back and easy-going than my other creator." Under the cocooning blanket, tense armor loosened itself from his frame, slender wings flaring slightly.
Bright orange wing fingers flared and brightened sharply. "He didn't say anything."
"Things did get more than a little side-tracked," Wing admitted, shifting slightly. "He will."
"That or he wanted to make sure we can cohabitate before he offers," Lightwing suggested. "It wouldn't do for him to try and train someone who bore ill-will towards his creation."
"Especially considering that I'm more likely to be recharging with my creators than I am in my own berth, unless I have company," the white mech agreed. His smile widened. "It's a bit of a running joke that I've gotten Dai so well cuddle-trained that he can't recharge without a smaller mech curled up on his chest."
"Somehow I think that if it were true, Axe would be having words with you," Lightwing snickered. "It would speak ill of his ability to satisfy his mate."
Wing chuckled. "Axe just laughs at him. He has lots of pictures of Dai deep in recharge with me curled up on top of him. And Dai will come to fetch me out of my own berth at times. Not that I mind."
"When Axe is there?" Lightwing had to force his jaw not to hang open.
"I cuddle up with both of them." Wing databurst the younger mech an image he'd gotten from Thorn, of both Axe and Dai Atlas recharging with a much smaller white frame snuggled between them.
"You really do look like a sparkling against them," Lightwing trilled in laughter. "Not at all unlike my creators with my younger brother," he databurst a capture of two Praxians, both predominately black and white, with a sparkling just coming into his first armor cradled between them as they recharged.
"Except I'll remain this size compared to them. They do consider me their sparkling, and I certainly don't mind being cuddled like one." Wing chirred happily.
"Which is good, given they'll probably always cuddle you like one," Lightwing smiled. "Axe said you'd spent most of your existence here. Were your creators Knights?"
Wing deflated a bit. "My creators were stunt clan leaders; I was sparked a stunt flier. But I didn't turn out the way they wanted me to be, and they threw me out of the clan. I was very young when I stumbled into Citadel airspace, and I spent most of my existence here. I never really had much of a family until Dai and Axe adopted me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Lightwing lowered his wings in sympathy. "I was lucky that way. My creators were very supportive of me, of all of us. I think it helped that there were many of us. They didn't have to force any of us to be what they needed, since there were plenty who were already well-suited to govern the House."
"My original creators wanted obedient mechs who would follow orders, without improvising or disobeying. That's not me. They tried to force me, and when that didn't work they abandoned me." Slender wings twitched. "But now I have a family, a younger brother, and even an uncle figure."
"Younger but much bigger," Lightwing trilled. "Are they planning to have another, since Sheerwing is grown?"
"That all depends on Dai. Though, if he does decide he wants another, keep your distance. He is scary when he's carrying." Wing shivered at the memory.
"Carrying doesn't agree with him?" Lightwing hummed. "It doesn't for everyone. I can imagine how scary a mecha like him could get."
"He almost took Firefly's helm off, just for touching him. Even I was steering clear of him." Wing cringed slightly. "Definitely a carrier to avoid."
"Primus," Lightwing whispered. "That's extreme. How did he handle it after separation?"
"Once his frame returned to normal, he calmed back down to normal. Give or take the occasional dark look if someone got too close to Sheerwing, though that settled after a while, too. If he chooses to carry again, the Citadel will be warned." The white mech uncurled slowly.
"I would hope so," he murmured. "Sounds worse than when the House locked down because of sabotage. Though at least you knew who to watch out for. I haven't seen any sub-adults. Are they that rare, or have I just missed them?"
"Sheer is the youngest mech created here, at the moment. Though there are rumors floating around that a few other couples are considering having sparklings, and Firefly was practically floating when he told me his creators are pondering trying again," Wing replied.
"It will be nice to have little ones around again," Lightwing smiled. "My creators were unusually prolific. It feels strange not to have little ones running around."
"For most Knights, their relationship with their Daoshi, the Knight who trains them, is the most intimate relationship they have. Not many bond. Dai and Axe, and Shogun and Stormcloud, are some of the few exceptions." Wing shifted again, stretching out a bit.
"Why?" Lightwing cocked his helm, a flash of unease twitching his wings.
"To tell the truth, I'm not entirely sure. Dai and Axe came here bonded, and though Shogun and Stormcloud weren't when they arrived, Shogun carrying him the whole way, they bonded after Shogun finished training." Wing shrugged a bit helplessly.
"It sounds like they were already close," Lightwing hummed. "That will be strange too, the idea of being alone. I never considered the possibility that I wouldn't bond one orn."
"They were." A wing fluttered under the blanket. "I hope to bond one orn, when I find my one true love. Though it may take a long time."
"A love-bond," Lightwing smiled. "I wish you the best finding him."
SXSXSXSXSXSXSXSX S===================S SXSXSXSXSXSXSXS
Dai Atlas surveyed the entrance to the sewers, the place of great punishment for the majority of flying mecha, but in this case Steelspark had simply earned the bad luck of the chore draw.
The white and yellow Seeker likely had his wings pulled as low and close to his back as he could, as all those with spread wings did down there. He was one of the very few who didn't vocally grumble about the bad chores he got while doing them; usually some interesting grumbles and occasional profanity could be heard echoing through the sewers. Steelspark simply accepted it. He could be heard moving around as he worked, picking his way through the grime as he sought out the last of the cogs in his section, then quietly made his way to the surface.
Yellow and white wings flared as Steelspark emerged from the sewers. The Seeker shook himself slightly, venting air in a long, soft sigh of understandable relief. Making sure he hadn't missed anything, he collected his supplies.
"You handle that better than most," Dai Atlas' deep rumble came from one side.
A rapid flicker of Steelspark's wingtips was the only hint that Dai Atlas had caught him by surprise. Blue optics lifted to meet the larger mech's red. "It has to be done, and I find there is no use complaining about it. The claustrophobia's manageable as long as I try not to think about it."
"I believe most handle it by complaining," the giant chuckled. "It's been true enough for many unpleasant duties. Complain, joke, try not to think ... though that you manage the later is still commendable. Are you done with your chores for the orn?"
"I am finished, yes." Steelspark inclined his helm. "I have to put my supplies away, and then I am finished for the orn."
"My washrack is open if you care to clean up while we talk," Dai Atlas offered, walking with the large Seeker.
The Seeker looked at him curiously, then nodded. "I would. Thank you."
It took only a klik for Steelspark to put away all the supplies he'd been using that orn. Once the last was put away, Steelspark closed the supply room and then turned to face Dai Atlas, nodding to indicate that he was done, and followed the giant Knight when he lifted off to his balcony well up in one of the residential towers. The quarters the great double doors opened to were incredibly huge, though with two mecha that made him feel small they would have to be. A glance also told him they were far more complex than he understood Knight's quarters to be. There were six doors leading off the main living room. He could guess that one lead to the hallway and the others likely lead to berthrooms for the Knights and their Initiates, or something like that.
With a slight smile as he watched Steelspark try to work out the layout of his quarters without any opens doors to help him out, Dai Atlas pinged the washroom door to slide open and motioned the Seeker inside.
The mystery of the larger mech's quarters layout kept part of Steelspark's processor active as the Seeker nodded his thanks to Dai Atlas, heading to one of the racks. A soft vent of relief, quickly muffled, escaped as sewer grime was washed out of the seams of yellow and white armor.
After a moment, Steelspark turned back to Dai Atlas, though he didn't emerge from under the fall of cleanser. "You wished to speak with me?"
"Yes," the giant nodded. "I understand you wish to train as a Knight of Light?"
"I do." All of the Seeker's attention was on the blue triple changer, his stance slowly drifting into a more formal position.
"Are there any Knights you have connected with particularly well?" Dai Atlas cocked his helm even as he responded to Steelspark's stance with a more formal shift in himself. "I am well aware that you have spoken with most of us."
The younger mech shook his helm. "I have spoken to most of the Knights here, but none of them I feel a particularly strong connection with." One wing twitched ever so slightly.
"Then I would have you consider becoming my Initiate," Dai Atlas raised his hand. "Give me an answer no earlier than after chores tomorrow."
Steelspark blinked at him once or twice as he digested that, then he dipped his helm in a nod. "I will give it my full consideration."
"Then do you have any questions for me?" Dai Atlas offered, motioning Steelspark to finish washing up.
Picking up a brush and using it to dislodge a piece of debris that had gotten lodged under a yellow armor plate, Steelspark considered. "Not at the moment... Though I'm certain something will pop up later," he replied after a moment.