Now, this wasn't in the RP Optronix Prrime and I did, but I was musing over this for a while so I decided to incorporate it into the story. We initially didn't have interactions between Bluestreak and my OC Cloudmist, but I though why not introduce her and see where she came from. There a bit of sniffles here, but nothing to grave.
R&R and enjoy!
Chapter Eight
Bluestreak awoke early the next morning, sitting up on his berth and he wondered how he went from the floor to his berth. One designation: Smokescreen. He frowned as his wings wilted from their natural position and his spark sunk. He laid back onto his pillow and pulled up the covers, sniffling. He had work later-four more cycles, according to his internal chronometer- and he did not feel like getting up out of his berth. He felt so hurt by what his brother said; he could hardly believe he said that to him after all this time Smokescreen spent watching over him. Bluestreak could not feel so ashamed of himself... perhaps he should let go of the twins and his thoughts of ever getting together with them. They were fantasies... it was all they would ever be. Fantasies. He wanted to disappear for a while and just forget everything about everyone.
When the time came, he arose from his berth and a cool sweep of air washed over him. He passed Smokescreen who was waiting for his brother to awaken and barely gave him any notice; Bluestreak walked out before the other mech could stop him. As Smokescreen stood in defeat, Bluestreak transformed and headed towards the museum to begin his shift. He arrived at the museum's doors and he entered in his bipedal mode, climbing up the steps with a low helm, then clocked in at the office. As he waited for the doors to open for the public, Bluestreak looked outside the elongated vertical windows and saw tourists, children on field trips...
"Hey, Blue," Cloudmist's voice pulled him out of his musings and she had a face of concern, "I'm sorry to sound corny, but you look... blue. Is everything alright?"
Bluestreak looked at her, briefly wondering how she entered the museum before dropping the unheard question and he sighed, "I wish it were. I fragged up so badly with my brothers yesterday and I've come to the conclusion that what I feel for the twins needs to stop... I can't do this anymore, Misty. I'm a failure and there's not a bot in the world for me."
She frowned, her servo touching his cheek, "Oh, Blue. That is not true, of course there is some bot out there and he's looking for you and you may not know it."
"Stop feeding me lies..."
"They are not lies, Bluestreak." she said firmly, lips pressed into a tight line, "You will find your significant other or others, how ever many it may be. It may not happen today, tomorrow, or the orn after that, but it will happen. Unlike me, you have the chance to go out there and explore! I'm held on a leash, Blue. I'm some owned pet while you are free to roam and go stray whatever place you desire; I do not have that liberty. Do not allow yourself to become bound on a lawn and remain chained because of limitations; you break free because you can. Pursue what YOU want; pursue YOUR happiness. No one is more important than your own self. Now tell me, do you want to give up on the twins and look for some bot else to fill what you need?"
He looked down, whispering almost to himself, "No."
"You want just them, right?" she asked, lifting his face and gazing into his optics.
"Yes."
"Then, look for them. Seek them out and go find where ever they are at and interact. Reestablish your communications and keep in contact. Don't become estranged to the mechs you want, the mechs you need. Ignore what your brothers have to say about them and pursue what makes you happy. I'm not saying become a stalker and creep them out, no, I'm saying don't lose hope on what you want to achieve and in this case, the twins. Who knows, they probably miss you as much as you miss them. Don't lose hope, Blue."
The Praxian hugged her, burying his face into her neck as he rubbed beneath his wings, "I'm losing hope... it's been so hard on me and Prowl is a stick in the slag."
She shushed him, "Ignore him. His words are not of importance."
He held her tighter, then loosened a fraction in fear of possibly squeezing her too hard. Small specks of coolant tears slipped from his optics as she touched his helm and rubbed it. "It's alright, Blue."
Bluestreak left the museum when his shift ended and he decided not to go home where he was sure his brother was waiting for him. He transformed right outside the large public building and headed away from the city. He wanted to let go of all his worries and just relax; if he returned home, it would be nothing but tensions and apologetics. Bluestreak left Iacon and went to New Praxus, arriving a cycle later. At around that time, he received a comm from his elder brother who sounded like he was a train wreck, ::Bluestreak! Where in Primus' name are you? I've been waiting for you to come; I've called your boss and he said you left the museum a cycle ago. Where are you? I'm worried...::
The gray and red Praxian sighed, ::I'm fine, Smokescreen. I didn't want to go home right after work because I'm still a little upset about yesterday. I'm in Praxus to let go. I'll be home when I'm done here. Okay?::
Smokescreen replied with more control in his voice, ::Primus, Blue... I almost had a search party go after you. Comm me when you decide to leave the city, otherwise, I don't know where you are.::
::I'm not a child to be looked after, Smokescreen.::
::You may not be, but I live with you and I promised to look after you once you find someone else to keep you company. Just... come home safely, please?::
Bluestreak sighed, transforming once he arrived at the edge of the growing city, ::Fine.::
He cut the comm short almost bitterly.
The mech looked upon the city and its busy life. He walked up the street and as he did, he received surprised faces from the current residents. They were not Praxian, none of them were-the Praxian population was three, four if one included Pixie-but a cluster of seekers and grounders resided within the city. It would take a while before a new generation of Praxians could arise. Time would tell. Bluestreak arrived at a memorial, the one he asked the construction workers to leave alone; it was a park. The park was widely visited by the younglings of Praxus; Bluestreak could still hear the children laughing and see them joyously playing upon the playground that now laid in ruins. Bluestreak had come here as a youngling himself and he could see himself climb up the ladder of the slide and coming down. He blinked and his memories faded into the reality that it was. The old slide was blackened and it was horribly twisted like much of the playground.
Sir, who are you?
Bluestreak heard a small voice whisper to him and he looked down, seeing a youngling-by the looks of it, fresh out of his sparkling frame- and his white optics were full of fear, "I'm a friend. Tell me, what's wrong little one?"
The youngling whimpered as he touched Bluestreak's thigh, I'm stuck here. I want my creators. I miss them. I want my creators! He began to cry.
"Where are you stuck? Let me set you free." said the Praxian.
The youngling was sniffling, You will? Oh, thank you! He scurried away towards the jungle cage that was bent out of place and several bars were run into the ground.
Bluestreak knelt down when the ghost of the youngling pointed to one of the bars, "Right here?"
He nodded. I couldn't be set free and I was forgotten as the other children went away. The pipe held me down and now I'm a stuck as a ghost... but then, you came along and you'll be able to set me free, right?
Bluestreak softly smiled as his white optics looked upon him with a glimmer of hope. "I will. I'll stay the night until I set you free from here."
The youngling smiled.
Bluestreak placed his servos at the surface base of the bar and began to dig around it, removing the ground that held it in place. It was hefty work as the youngling watched, sitting next to Bluestreak and waiting to see his own frame that was in the ground for tens of thousands of vorns. As Bluestreak's optics began to strain to see light, he touched something cool that was not the bar and it was rough.
There! That's me!
Bluestreak widened his digging and soon, he uncovered the small rusted frame of the youngling; his servos were covered in grit and grim as he stroked the small deteriorating frame, feeling two bars that pinned him down at hip and shoulder.
I bled to death... it hurt...
Bluestreak grabbed one of the bars and pulled until it released, then repeated for the other bar. The ghost jumped in excitement as the Praxian lifted him with ultimate care; he would crumble if he wasn't careful.
I can show you to the cemetery and where they put my creators. I want you to set me down between them, then I can be free.
Bluestreak nodded, "Lead the way."
The youngling happily bound away, excited now that he was free. The little ghost made sure he avoided any form of civil life and they arrived at the cemetery. The youngling went through the bars with ease because he wasn't a solid form, but Bluestreak had to nudge the gates to enter with his shoulder. He left the gates open to keep up with the running ghost and he saw the youngling stop at two tombstones and fall to his knees. There was one single crypt that was buried into the ground and earth had grown over it.
They're here.
Bluestreak set down the dead frame gently and he said softly, "Would you like me to put you inside?"
The youngling shook his helm. It's sealed forever. His small wings fell. You did all this for me. Thank you, sir.
"I couldn't leave you there alone. I try to help as many lost sparks to be set free and join the Well whole. You were too young to have suffered that fate." replied Bluestreak with a quiet voice.
Weren't we all? The youngling pointed to another section of the cemetery where lost children were found and left unidentified because the damage was too great.
Bluestreak frowned as his servo went to touch the helm of the youngling, but it went through him, "The majority of them are at peace and I helped you reach your family."
Thank you so much, sir.
"Do you remember your designation so that I may never forget who I saved?" asked the Praxian.
The youngling thought for a moment. It had been a long time since he had said his own designation. He stared blankly at the ground beneath him before saying softly, My designation is Sunbeam.
Bluestreak smiled softly as he scooped up the rusted frame and set it in the center of the lid, turning the frame on its side in a fetal position. "Sunbeam, I will set you here at the grave of your creators and when the stars in the night shine their light upon you, may you ascend into the Well of Sparks where you will be reunited with your creators."
The phantom figure smiled at Bluestreak as he sat by his own frame before laying down and he offlined his optics. As each astrosecond that passed, he became more and more transparent until he faded away into nothing, but thin air. "Sleep well, Sunbeam."
Smokescreen jumped up as he heard the door open and he ran out of his room and immediately hugged his youngest brother, "Oh, Blue..." he wanted to say more, but instead, he forced down the words he wanted to say and asked, "How was Praxus?"
Bluestreak looked at his brother with satisfying and tired optics, "I saved a youngling, Smokey. He was stuck in the playground that I saved for the memorial. I returned him to his creators and he fully joined the Well."
Smokescreen smiled. Although he was usually not there when Bluestreak saved a ghost, he would see the news of another uncovered frame that was left at the cemetery above certain graves. As Bluestreak had requested, they would bury those frames below or next to where they were set. Smokescreen continued to hug his brother until he noticed the crumbs of rust on their frames and the grit and grim on Bluestreak's servos.
"Go on and hop into the shower, Blue. I'll warm some energon for you; you must be hungry after all you went through today."
Bluestreak nodded. As he was beginning to walk of towards the wash racks, Smokescreen spoke again, "Blue, about last night-"
"It's fine, Smokey. It was wrong of me to have brought up the topic and it was my fault. And what you said, don't worry about it. I've forgiven you; what kind of brothers are we if we don't forgive each other?"
Bluestreak's smile grew when Smokescreen returned it and he turned back into the direction he was heading for. Smokescreen had that same smile as he went into their kitchenette and began to warm up a late supper meal.