#/ elitaprime

[elitaxne]

Someone take photoshop away from me, also once again @radioactivibee gives me the worst ideas

[elitaxne]

┊ ❛ THE DREAM TEAM ❜

♔. }

     ❝ Perfect, Sir. And Councillor- Commander !! S-Sorry, Ma’am, I uhm, it’s an old habit... a-anyways, ❞ the Assistant stammered, waving his servos in beckoning for Elita to take her mark. ❝ Tips of your pedes go in the corner of the tape, please. Right up to the edge if you can. ❞

Elita silently followed the instruction, resisting the urge to stare down the mech for the title falter. While it had already been several centuries since her time as a Councillor, it still came as a small sting to her pride. Commander of course was a respectable title, Second in Command of the Autobots even more so, but, after being a High Councillor — adorned in beautiful garments, helm ornamentations, and surrounded by other nobles — it felt demoralizing to be standing here now, shooting recruitment videos for the current war effort; stripped down to a slightly bulkier armoured frame, and standing alongside Optimus Prime no less.

Primus, she could FEEL the mech’s amusement wafting in his EM Field. Elita had even caught the poorly hidden smirk that flashed over his lip-plates at the Assistant’s blunder from the corner of her optic, as if he knew it was a sore spot for her... What she would give to smack his remaining grin off right now without consequence. Optics met and both expressions dulled, less than thrilled to be standing so closely together.

Everything about today was nothing short of embarrassing and unnatural, the both of them dreading it for separate reasons. Elita for the blow to her pride, and Optimus for the anxiety that came with public addresses such as this. What made this even worse was that they had to recite lines per a Director’s dictations. This was not like making any other speech as he had done before, no, this was something else entirely. For once, they both agreed the act left them feeling vaguely like puppets on strings, dancing against their will.

But, such was necessary if they wanted more mecha to join their ranks. The Autobots DESPERATELY required fresh frames, and with the Decepticon numbers growing by the day, they had to set aside personal preferences for the betterment of the cause... however bitterly.

❝ How’re we lookin’? ❞ the Assistant called back. If the sigh was anything to go by the Director was less than pleased.

❝ The framing is off, ❞ he muttered, looking up to the two Commanders, ❝ I’m going to need you both to stand a bit closer so you can fit in the shot. ❞

Optimus and Elita flinched at the words, again peering back over to the other with a soured look. Absolutely not. Arms length as they were now was fine enough for them. The fact they were standing in the same airspace cordially was nothing short of a miracle by all accounts. Were they to be in the War Room, well, the mask of etiquette would’ve long since slipped...

The Director tutted and the Assistant’s servos again waved, urgently pushing the air in front of them in signal to move closer, like one would with a youngling. Elita felt her jaw slacken and optics briefly rolled, not even stepping an INCH in the Prime’s direction. Optimus mirrored her exactly, frowning to himself while cautiously taking a half-step closer. He could feel the phantom chill her plating naturally radiated creeping over crimson plates and it sent a shiver up his spinal struts. Ice Queen indeed...

❝ That... that didn’t do anything. Okay, I need you both to REALLY get in close, your plates are going to have to touch— ❞

Both Prime and SIC flinched again. Elita, however, was first to voice the displeasure. Surprisingly, Optimus didn’t mind and even more surprisingly, found himself AGREEING with her words, though however tersely they came.

❝ Is there no way to move the cameras BACK at all to accommodate? ❞ the femme started, cerulean hues narrowed and locked onto the Director some yards away behind the multiple blinding lights, cameras, and microphones. ❝ I have an injury that is still healing, and I am HESITANT to have it jostled if the Prime were to move. ❞

Optimus quirked a brow, helm turning fully to face her. That was news to him...

❝ I don’t recall you being injured...? ❞ he said quietly, even apprehensively.

Elita glowered back as if to say ‘shut up’ through her look alone. Thankfully, Optimus caught on to her lie and bit his lower component, glancing away from her immediately. Shutting up, your Highness. Frag, this day needed to end...

Without hearing the side-commentary from the two titanic bots the Director continued on, ❝ Sadly, we can’t, Ma’am. Otherwise it’ll put the background too far out of focus, and the microphones will be too high to capture audio. Trust me, Commander, I’ve done this COUNTLESS times, it’ll look perfect when you see it for yourself. Commander Prime, just please mind yourself during this shot... ❞

Optimus huffed quietly, then nodded, expression softening pleasantly over to the mech behind the production crew. Wonderful, he’d be sure to do just that... there was nothing he wanted to do MORE than to peel himself away from his SIC’s frame and presence, but alas, duty remained. At the behest of the Assistant, Elita and Optimus shared another flat glance, mirrored actions bringing them side by side on a slight inward angle, arms plates pressed flush against each other with a quiet squeak of metal on metal. They each wanted to pull away IMMEDIATELY but, neither moved, as if in some unspoken competition to see who could last the longest. Childish to the core.

Optics met with facial expressions surprisingly neutral but the disgust in each set of cerulean and cyan hues respectively spoke to the breadth of each their displeasure with the situation. The sooner they could get this over with the sooner they could stop touching... and the sooner each spark pulse could hopefully SETTLE. The incessant tugging and twisting did little to help the situation, despite neither of them showing any such distress.

❝ Perfect !! Alright, don’t move from there. Let’s get some tape in those new positions. Label as the new mark one, ❞ the Director started, to which another Assistant came sprinting forward, laying out the tape at the pedes of the Commanders. Primus, their size alone was nothing short of intimidating, let alone, prestige. It wasn’t everyday one found themselves in the presence of a Prime and former High Councillor after all...

Cameras whirred and the hum of microphones above their helms filled each set of audials. The smaller mech scurried back into the looming shadows behind the bright white lights. Showtime.

Optimus bristled, feeling the unrelenting anxious swells in his spark chamber, and the lurching that came with Elita standing so close didn’t help matters either; making him feel vaguely nauseous and even more unsettled. Not to mention the other affliction: HOT. The production lights burned down onto them from every angle, making his already warm internal temperature rise to a near SCORCHING level. Though Elita didn’t say anything he knew she had taken notice, the quirked brow she shot him when he repositioned slightly said it all. All Optimus could do was pray that his cooling fans didn’t online, otherwise he was certain he’d die from embarrassment.

❝ You both know your lines, but, we have the prompter at optic level in case you need it. Sir, we’ll start with you, then go to you, Ma’am. Back and forth until the end of the script. Try not to look at each other, optics stay forwards as best you can. Sometimes it can be tempting when you hear someone speak next to you, but, I need your gazes towards me, ❞ the Director said, settling into his chair next to the live monitor.

Optimus and Elita ALMOST laughed outright at the comment. Neither held any qualms with that particular instruction. Trust them, there was NO temptation...

❝ Alright, roll camera... ❞

❝ Camera rolling. ❞

❝ Roll sound. ❞

❝ Speed! ❞

❝ Marker— ❞

The first Assistant from before held out a board in front of the camera lens, ❝ Scene one, Shot one, Take one. ❞ The top-half of the board fell with a sharp CLAP, and the mech pulled it from view, disappearing back to the side of the lead camera.

❝ Rolling... ❞ the Director said, eyeing the two Commanders. The crew all stilled, set ( or in this case, the Autobot aircraft hangar ) completely silent and waiting. ❝ Annnnnd action! ❞

Optimus straightened, staring dead into the camera per the previous instruction and reading the rolling lines from the prompter. While he had memorized all his lines perfectly just now in this moment he felt them ABANDON his processors entirely.

❝ I am Commander Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots, ❞ he said, voice hitching uncharacteristically in a slightly higher register. Fantastic...

❝ And I am Commander Elita-1, ❞ Elita said, making sure to draw out her words per the natural rhythm, if only to FURTHER contrast Optimus’ less than stellar first line and hers. The air of superiority RADIATED off her frame so profusely it rivalled the heat from surrounding lights.

Optimus continued to pause, wanting to clear his vocalizer but negating against it, unsure if the Director wanted them to stop or not. From his upper peripherals he could see the Director's silhouetted servo moving behind the camera, prompting he continue. The Prime obliged, jilting in place.

❝ A-And we need brave sparks like yours to join the Autobot campaign against the threatening forces of the Decepticons. Whose atrocities wage on across Cybertron at the behest of their tyrannical leader, Megatron— ❞

The words shot from his vocoder MUCH faster than he had anticipated, awkward and wooden. Recruitment video? The Prime was certain this looked and sounded more like a hostage video...

Elita bit back a smirk but an anemic ventilation trickled from her frame all the same. Optimus cringed internally. Yes, he knew it wasn’t a very good performance, this was why he was a former ARCHIVIST not an ACTOR...

But now, it was her turn...

JUST as wooden as the Prime though at least, not quite at the break-neck speed he’d taken to. As a former politician she had some experience in front of a camera while shooting campaign videos, but, that felt to be a lifetime ago and despite her not wanting to admit such, she was a bit rusty at it.

❝ You alone could change the tide in this civil war, and bring an end to the on-going conflict. Now more than ever, your planet needs you and your bravery. ❞ At least she had said the words well enough; miserably robotic but, it was a start.

Optimus swallowed. Final line, he could do this. ❝ The fate of freedom itself is in your servos. Join the Autobots today, and fight back against tyranny - Together— ❞ his voice cut off abruptly as optics just about BULGED out of his helm at the action prompt following the lines.

>> SERVO GOES ON ELITA’S SHOULDER PAULDON.

Not a chance in the Pit. He wanted to KEEP his servo today, thank you very much...

Again, the Director goaded from behind the camera and Optimus whined to himself, hoisting an arm up in a PAINFULLY slow manner. The action came as if he were about to be shot off-camera were it not completed. Honestly, he had half a fear he’d be shot at ON camera by the femme were he to see this through. Lip plates pressed together in a thin line and optics pleadingly stared down into the black void of the camera lens. Primus, have mercy on his spark...

Elita’s optics shifted to the side in a split-second warning he stop what he was doing immediately. Don’t you dare... Optimus gnawed on the inner-mesh lining his cheek with the Director’s movements continuing on. He had no choice. The both of them watched in slow motion as large, warm digits came up to rest on her nearest pauldron. Cold cerulean hues SHOT up to the Prime whose sightline locked dead ahead on the camera lens, feeling her piercing gaze practically peel his paint.

Sucking in a sharp vent the femme Commander followed suit, staring forwards begrudgingly. That was quite long enough... Angling slightly away from him the thick digits slipped from their feeble hold on fuchsia plating. Optimus blindly held them out a moment more in consideration, then ultimately decided to recoil the now balled fist behind his backplates in a blink of an optic, not wanting to repeat the action EVER again.

The awkwardness between the two Commanders couldn’t even begin to be described, but it could CERTAINLY be felt by every spark in the room. Rigid. Tense. Bizarre. Palpable. Somehow they had each unknowingly started to LEAN in opposite directions, just enough to remain in the frame, but enough so their frames GHOSTED each other where previously they had been connected.

The crew cringed, thankful their expressions were hidden behind the blasting lights, though knowing glances were shot amongst themselves. This was agonizingly uncomfortable to watch. Please, Director, put them all out of their misery...

❝ Cut— ❞ the Director gawked in partial disbelief, ❝ Reset... ❞

The crew shifted from their places and Optimus and Elita practically THREW themselves away from each other, not wanting the personal-space invasion to last even a nanosecond longer. Fuschia shoulder pauldrons rolled, as though trying to dispel the Prime’s lingering warmth off of them. Optimus did similar, shifting in place and shaking his helm. Unsure where else to look he kept his gaze downcast, but felt the femme already turning slightly towards him. Here we go...

❝ Touch me again and I will slice your servo off here and now, Prime, ❞ she snarled under her breath.

Optimus glared back at her, ❝ I was only following what the prompter said. ❞

❝ Well, don’t— ❞ she spat back, mindful of the volume. Optics met, burning into the other’s in rising agitation.

❝ Trust me, Commander, I didn’t want to, ❞ he replied, just as bitingly. Nerves had worn his patience thin, and while they had kept the bickering to a minimum during earlier promo shots they each were at the end of their ropes.

Crew members continued to bustle around them, masking the on-going squabble as it carried out between the two titans.

❝ And by the All-Spark, are your palms always so clammy? ❞ Elita huffed, eyeing her pauldron as if looking for leftover residue. Her upper lip curled. Disgusting.

The Prime’s fascia heated, matching his still BURNING frame practically sizzling beneath harsh lights.

❝ My palms are not clammy, ❞ Optimus growled lowly, rolling his optics. They were. He blamed his nerves along with the stifling heat. ❝ With your plating practically frozen-over perhaps a regular bot merely FEELS that way to you... ❞

Elita balked near silently, glancing back over to him on a side angle. ❝ Oh, really? So, you are an expert now when it comes to how plating feels, Prime? Astounding. ❞

Optimus engaged, mirroring her actions. ❝ Compared to you who hasn’t felt another’s touch in her entire lifecycle, maybe I am— ❞ he clucked beneath his breath.

The fuschia form stiffened as icy cerulean optics — cold like the rest of her — bore back into cyan. Ouch. That was marginally unexpected of him... but she wasn’t about to bring attention to the tiny sore spot left from the jab. Regaining her composure in a nanosecond optics rolled and arms crossed tightly in front of the fuchsia chassis.

❝ That wasn’t even clever, ❞ Elita muttered.

❝ Didn’t need to be. It drew a reaction from you all the same, didn’t it? ❞ he countered, shocking even himself with the rude antics. When it came to petty insults and callous remarks Elita almost always decimated him ten to one. Today, he had edged ahead, but something told him the battle wasn’t over.

The Assistant had silently returned amongst the production chaos and mimed for them to once again step closer. Neither Optimus nor Elita were paying that much attention, shuffling back into place to unwittingly bump into each other. They each reacted in kind, peeling away as though the other was plagued.

❝ What did I say? ❞ Elita huffed, then grumbled some sort of expletive under her breath. Optimus hadn’t caught it, but he had a few guesses.

The Prime let loose a huff of his own, ❝ Don’t even start— ❞

Frames ever so slightly touched again as they settled at their marks, and optics met once more in a spark-stopping glower; a silent challenge born from simmering irritation. Denta gritted beneath hardened jawlines and ridges narrowed on sharp angles. Limbs shifted in annoyance, trying to get away from the other bot but not having the room to do so. Eventually, they each conceded, rolling their optics and staring off elsewhere with exasperated sighs.

The Director simply stared at his monitor, helm falling into a single servo. Together his AFT. It was a miracle the Autobots weren’t in even more dire straights. From what he could tell the two leaders DESPISED each other with the fury of a thousand suns. But, he was being paid to make it seem like they were in perfect unity. A dream team. Primus, it was going to take a tsunami of movie magic to make that happen...

❝ Okay, we’re gonna go again! ❞ he called up, ❝ From the top— ❞

Everyone settled into their places, Optimus and Elita included. Back to the same expressionless fascia as before, but the subtle burning behind each set of optics told a different story. This was going to be a very, VERY long day.

❝ Annnnnd action! ❞

[elitaxne]

❛ THE LUCKY ONES ❜

Artwork by @oh-councilor-my-councilor​

[elitaxne]

┊  ❛ JOURNEYS END . . . ❜

♔. }

       Today was the day. Finally. After several years of stress, planning, Energon, sweat, and tears the Educational Centre was finally OPENING; with a momentous unveiling set for the early afternoon. Not a spark on Cybertron HADN’T heard of the Centre’s construction, the building itself marking itself in their planet’s history as the first educational complex permissible for ALL mecha.

With all the excited chatter focused on the unveiling the past few days had gone by in a blink of an optic since Elita and Optimus had ventured to the Vaults. Their conversation placed on temporary hold... along with another one she had yet to enlighten him too. The Councillor grinned to herself as Xetix clasped the final pieces of her garment in place, lifting a servo to trace slow circles over her spark pulse. The emotions were almost UNBEARABLE to keep at bay but she managed; the cherry on top of what would be the perfect day she mused.

❝ There! You are all done, Elita, ❞ the elder mech chirped, taking a step away from the femme to allow her room to look herself over.

Elita’s optics widened, turning gently from side to side as the gold, glittering fabric sparkled under her walk-in closet lights. Light, airy fabric practically floated from her frame in a short train, open sleeves draping over shoulder pauldrons giving the appearance of a faux cape that drifted down her backplates to the floor in a shimmering waterfall. The decorative front covered over her chestplates then parted up to her shoulder pauldrons, all of her coated helm to pede in champagne stars.

❝ Xetix, you have out down yourself... ❞ she vented, peeking over to the mech waiting by the door, ready to tackle dressing Cygnus and Cephei ( then prepare himself for the occasion, a front row ticket to the unveiling at that ).

The elder mech beamed, ❝ Hold that thought until all four of you are together. ❞ Four arms waved at his sides, ❝ THEN, I will be more than willing to agree. ❞

Elita chuckled, carefully seating herself on a plush stool ahead of her ornamentation vanity. ❝ Or, I will impart with you the same compliment again. Out doing yourself twice in one day ought to be a new record, wouldn’t you say? ❞

Xetix laughed, a low, wheezing laugh. ❝ I would, ❞ he agreed, giving her a final nod before dashing out to Cygnus and Cephei’s room, assistants carrying their garments promptly scurrying behind.

Sitting in front of all her glimmering jewels and adornments she couldn’t quite decide what to pick, holding up helm ornament after ornament only to purse her lip plates. None quite seemed to FIT. That is, until she had a thought.

Leaning over very, VERY carefully, she opened a hidden compartment beneath the flat of the vanity, retrieving a lone velvety box. Cradling it delicately she opened the lid, revealing her most prized possession: the ornament Zeta Prime had gifted to her when she was but a young Councillor. It may not have been the largest ornament she owned but it was the most beautiful, and sentimental. A couple long dangling ends coated in gold and shimmering gems ran up to connect at a clustering of pastel crystal flora, holding the tendrils together as if by almost invisible threads.

A soft smile warmed her features and delicate digit tips ran over it, finding the familiar and strange groove on the far end of the main connector. Ridge crinkled. For as long as she’d owned it she had never understood its purpose, as though a part of the ornament were MISSING and connected at the indentation. Elita vented, securing it in place to fall in line where her helm and fascia met. Perfect... actually... Gathering a few smaller dangling ornaments the femme dispersed them amongst her other finnials meticulously until completely satisfied with the placements; Zeta’s gift most prominent amongst the additions.

                                                   NOW, it was perfect.

                {{ Sweetspark, do you need help with anything, I am just finishing... }}

[elitaxne]

┊❛ Growing Pains ❜

♫. }

      With one servo held captive in a warm grip and the other clasped over mouthplates in desperate attempt to mute what would’ve been a flurry of giggles, Ariel scampered behind the Archivist at an almost comical rate, stumbling behind him servo in servo by way of playful tugs through labyrinthian shelving units. Cautious peeks behind her and wandering optics only caused the quick dash through the dimly lit maze all the more discombobulating, excitement and anticipation swelling in her EM Field to choke the empty, echoing section for what must’ve been miles.

❝ Primus, I think we’ve nearly reached the edge of Cybertron, Pax. How big IS this place?--- ❞ Ariel gasped, FLINGING around another shelving unit like a rag doll caught in the wind. Long helm cables danced behind her at a spastic rate, bouncing to clink against her backplates with every half-jogged step she took.

Digits squeezed tighter around Orion’s larger ones, perfectly entwined since the second they had come up to this lesser-used floor --- and away from prying optics. Such had since become a routine of sorts, the both of them turned absolute delinquents and finding any and every excuse to break away on their own; infatuated with the other and addicted to the high that came with being in their presence. While the much needed conversation between her and the Gladiator had yet to come to fruition, neither really cared. Here, outside the Pits of Kaon, was their domain to explore and enjoy, too wrapped up in the excitement and frivolity of their juvenile escapades to really care about much else.

Finally, pedefalls slowed and Ariel trotted behind, staring about the grand space that stretched at least a mile in both directions, lined wall to wall in dizzying shelving unit layouts. Above them? Beautifully painted ceilings depicting many major historical events on Cybertron, with all 13 Primes suspended above them in similar style to their portraits hanging in the Council Towers. Were she not so turned around she’d have admired the beauty and history surrounding her, but Ariel only struggled with the confusion of it all. Stacks upon stacks of data pads sat on shelves that stretched so tall even Orion needed to scale a gigantic ladder to reach the top, not to mention they faced every which way. Even with photographic memory it would be easy for her to get lost in the jumbled mess... Was this really the best way to preserve everything?

Tugging on his connected servo large cerulean hues wandered back to find cyan, bright beaming smile plastered over smooth features. ❝ What s-s-section was this again? ❞ she chuckled on a breathy pant, thankful her guide had graciously came to a complete stop.

@oneshallstand

[elitaxne]

┊❛ WHEN STARS COLLIDE ❜

♫. }

      ¦ ¦  RELAX. I’m just s...s-saying hi to a few friends on s-s-stage, alright? Primus, one of these d...d --- times --- you’re going to blow a gasket.  ¦ ¦

The femme snorted into the comm, idly playing with one of many thin cable strands cascading from the back of her helm. On the other side of the comm a chuckle erupted near instantly, Ariel could practically SEE the mech waving it off.

¦ ¦  Yeah, yeah, yeah but I know you, Ari. You’re gonna get tied up with the musicians, get a mic in your servo, then be on that stage ALL fraggin’ festival. I invited my friend for YOU, remember that?  ¦ ¦

Large cerulean optics rolled as her weight swayed back and forth as the first few pricks of music met her audials. She could feel the rhythm in her wiring already BEGGING her to move and give in. But, he had a point. After one more second and a sympathetic glance up to some friends prepping on stage she peeled from the ramp slowly, almost begrudgingly.

¦ ¦  Alright, alright...  ¦ ¦ she sighed, tossing the long cabling back over her shoulder pauldron, ¦ ¦  L... L-Let me guess, you’re parked out by the bar?  ¦ ¦ her voice trailed off into a slight croon, already canvassing the growing crowd of every shape and colour known to their kind bustling about the outdoor space.

Jazz smiled on the other side of the comm, ¦ ¦  Duh. Best place in the house! Want me to grab ya one? It’s the bubbly one... right?  ¦ ¦ 

Ariel chuckled, locating the neon sign of the pop up bar some slight distance away and headed towards it, at the behest of the other musicians still pleading she stay.

¦ ¦  And here I thought you knew me...  ¦ ¦  the femme teased, slinking between the masses as carefully her petite form could manage. ¦ ¦  S-S-Sparkling, please --- with a crystal drop. I’ll be there s... be there s-soon.  ¦ ¦ 

Jazz pumped a fist silently in the air twirling back to the patiently waiting bar tender with two digits up. ❝ An’ make one with a crystal drop, please, ❞ he added diligently, before tapping into his data pad. Where in the Pit could he be? It was almost show time and the mech was no where to be seen. If the Archivist had even an INKLING of bailing out there would be hell to pay...

> [ OP, where ya at?! The first act is about to start. ] > [ Ari’s on her way over! ]

@oneshallstand

[elitaxne]

┊ ❛ COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS ❜

— · //「 OPTIMUS 」

The first thing Optimus heard upon waking was the steady beep of the spark monitor on the right side. It threw him off for a moment, but the pain from his entire frame pulled him back to reality, far beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. While he’d nearly died multiple other times and had sustained numerous injuries over the years, his current state far outweighed everything else that had come before.

Optimus blinked, slow and lethargic as his vision began to gradually come into focus. Everything around him was stark white and greys, the tell-tale hues of a medical recovery room. That’s when everything came rushing back, from the strange dreamlike memories of nearly passing into the Well, to waking up with–

“L-ita…” he groaned, vocalizer emitting broken and guttural static, faded cyan hues desperately looking around him while servos struggled weakly to reach around for her.

    {{ Where are you? How long has it been since I went into forced stasis? Where are the twins? }}

Optimus could barely even recall waking up last, thanks to being so disoriented and in so much pain, but he recalled the doctor giving him a sedative. Checking his internal chronometer was hardly much of a help, his whole entire system still recalibrating.

                          {{ Are they here? I want to see them, PLEASE--- }}

♔. }

       Elita’s day to day had mostly been spent in a similar condition to her mate, recharging on her designated chair at his side, refusing to leave for even a fraction of a second. Multiple monitors and additional lines of Energon had been hooked to her spark, directly feeding it sustaining electric currents and lifeblood while it recovered from the trauma, but after the second day it was strong enough to be removed. Plans to see Cygnus and Cephei were also temporarily on hold, assuring that both Optimus and Elita were steady enough to allow for socialization; doctors didn’t want to take any chances considering the pair had JUST barely cheated death.

On the third day she’d been able to maintain consciousness from sunrise to sundown, reading a data pad in between updates from the doctor, a few spark appointments, and keeping Optimus company. Cygnus and Cephei had come for a visit, opting to nap in her lap until the nurses ushered them to recovery berths for proper recharge.

Even though the Prime been in stasis she knew he was there with her, sated pulses idly drifting in the bond in reassurance, so unlike how he’d had been days earlier; clinging to the last tendrils that connected them, cold, and distant. Elita had forced the thought from her helm, forgoing rest until systems shut down, a part of her terrified to the core of closing her optics for too long in fear of returning to the horrific darkness of the spiritual realm; of returning to the Well for good.

Today marked the fourth day, keeping to the usual schedule same as always. Quiet. Slender digits flicked over her data pad screen, taking to the leisurely reading long since put on hold.

                                                          ❛ L-ita . . . ❜ 

Optics shot up, the data pad instantly forgotten.

❝ I’m here, I’m right here Sweetspark. It’s okay... ❞ the femme hushed, taking the wandering servo and giving it a gentle squeeze. ❝ Easy, easy, my Light... you were in stasis for a few days. Just try to relax, it’s okay... ❞ Elita whispered, scooting closer in her chair, thumbing over the back of the mangled metal servo in her hold.

    {{ Cygnus and Cephei are playing with the other younglings here. I will have an attendant bring them over to visit, okay? }}

The promise simultaneously mouthed over to a mecha waiting outside the room, who nodded, and rushed off in search of the twins.

Cerulean hues softened, glancing over the marrings deeply embedded on his fascia, an immediate PANG surged through her spark, and another. Lip plates tugged into a small smile, digits squeezing the larger ones in their careful hold.

      {{ It feels so strange to not be the one in the recovery berth. YOU were so often the one sitting in the uncomfortable chair while I lay helplessly on the mat... }}

An amused vent whistled from fuchsia plates, the colouring nearly fully returned to its full vibrancy. Leaning over, Elita pressed a soft kiss to the side of his helm, hovering a few inches ahead of focusing cyan optics, bewildered but brightening.

[elitaxne]

A friend of mine drew this for me after a crack conversation at TFCon DC and I’m in love. Go support their awesome work below !!

PATERON: roboapollo TWITTER: roboapollo INSTAGRAM: roboapollo

[elitaxne]

┊  ❛ CHANGES ❜

♔. }

       It had taken WEEKS but finally the lengthy business trip had seen its end. Day after day had been spent in the company of Councillor Merga ( to both their chagrin ), their duty as the Council representatives of Cybertron keeping them captive at the political summit on Velocitron, though it may as well have been the other side of the galaxy. Trapped on their sister planet locked in meeting after meeting, hearings and deliberations with other planetary ambassadors while outlining the next phase of governing as the first decade since Cybertron’s resurrection neared, thankfully.

If nothing else, they had upheld their end of the bargain, and Cybertron continued to make tremendous progress in the eyes of the other colonies --- they needn’t know the rot grappling the inner sanctum of the High Council. One day, Elita hoped, the cancerous presence of the old Councillors would phase out and make way for the like-minded mecha her and Optimus NEEDED to help lead their world to prosperity, but that day seemed too far from reach at the moment, and it never failed to weigh on her processors.

Trudging down the hall from the lift to the door of her residency had never felt so long in all her life cycle, as though her pedes had been dipped in tar. The second she crossed the threshold the simultaneous relief of being home and expanse of exhaustion FLOODED over her systems, and the Councillor immediately flopped onto the lounger with a long drawn out sigh. There was still several HOURS until Optimus, the twins, and Kaal would come home, and while she had half a processor to surprise them at the Towers --- meeting them here was far more preferable. What better way than to catch them off-guard then to be waiting for when they too came home?

@oneshallstand

[elitaxne]

He learned about a new meme today. "Vibe check!" *spanks her aft*

♔. }

     What in the Pit was a vibe check? Was this some sort of strange human humour again…?

❝ … Is there an explanation coming or is this one of those situations where I should refrain from asking? ❞ Elita chided, smirking into her mid-grade. She wasn’t complaining either way.

[elitaxne]

┊❛ THUNDERSTRUCK ❜

♔. }

      ¦ ¦  ECHO 1 to Autobot Base: Copy that. Prepare for landing sequence. ¦ ¦       ¦ ¦  Autobot Base to ECHO 1: You are cleared for landing.  ¦ ¦

The aerial transport’s engines hummed as rotors whirred loudly at the change in direction, chopping at the air as thrusters eased, bringing the ship closer to the ground in a straight descent, keeping lateral to the ground. Beeps and notification bells rang from the control hub, quickly engaging or disengaging protocols by the servos of her team --- a well oiled machined forged over centuries experience.

Elita loomed behind Firestar as she piloted the transport, touching down with a gentle kiss atop polished surface; a perfect landing. The orange femme gave the nod, and Elita tapped the bridge console.

     ¦ ¦  ECHO 1 to Autobot Base: Transport landed, and ready for off-loading.  ¦ ¦      ¦ ¦  Autobot Base to ECHO 1: Ground crew has dispatched. Prepare for boarding.  ¦ ¦

Turning to address the team, each individual seated at their command modules, Elita clasped her servos at the base of spinal column keep the rigid posture that had long since become habit rather than conscious posing.

❝ Let’s roll, ❞ she said, turning on the heel of her pede and walking down the bridge at the characteristically brisk pace, leaving the cluster of femme’s to scramble from their positions and follow suit.

By now, it was in their coding to move at a fast pace, Elita ran her ship the same way she ran her team: tight. Mustering in the cargo hold all members were accounted for, and in excellent timing to Elita’s delight. With a nod of the Commander’s helm Chromia tapped at the keypad, engaging the massive door to lower into position, allowing them to disembark by way of the declining grated plane.

Engine steam caught in the rotors downward wind, blowing across the opening as pedefalls brought the unit to the landing bay, already bustling with mecha. With Elita at the helm of the troupe they moved as one unit, orderly and with expert precision, every pedefall keeping perfect time, and natural swing of arms or bounce of kibble in sync with each other. Prior orders had already sorted where their belongings would be taken, at the expense of the Autobots thankfully enough --- they were pressed for time enough as it was, with an infiltration mission pending once the sun fell over the horizon.

They had hours, if that, to get coordinated and devise an attack strategy. Nothing they hadn’t done before, but this time, they would not be alone. Autobot troops had been added to the roster to help fill out any potential gaps, to Team Elite’s chagrin --- word was they would simply be tech support, the real brunt of the heavy undertaking fell to the expert’s shoulder pauldrons. This was the reason they had been signed on in the first place.

Gawking stares followed their movements as the team navigated the busy landing bay, then descended into the bowels of the Autobot base. While their optics were trained forwards, every pair they passed seemed to stare blankly or wander down; watching as though they moved in slow motion, and taking in every bit their new additions had to offer. Some tall, some small, some of a slender build, while others boasted sturdier frame types --- all of them wearing hardened expression that threatened to kill on contact. There was a reason they were known as Team Elite, all of them terrifying.

                                                      But Primus, what a view...

They were set to meet with Optimus and another group of Autobots, mostly tacticians, Intel, strategists, and engineers, and as Elita turned another corner, watching in subtle amusement as Autobots FLUNG themselves against the corridor walls and out of her team’s war path, she hoped Optimus was ready to work. She certainly was.

@oneshallstand

[elitaxne]

┊❛ FATHER’S DAY 2018 ❜

♔. }

      Today wasn't the first Sire-specific holiday to be celebrated in their household, but it was the first with the twins online, allowing them to participate. Since slowly making the transition to recharge in the Nursery rather than in berth with their Creators, it was easier to get them up and fed without disturbing the Prime. It had been another busy week for him, so Elita would allow him to recharge as late as he wanted --- more time for her to get things ready.

Both Cygnus and Cephei had offered their assistance as well when it came to the day’s preparations, acting as junior taste testers for Elita while she made her infamous Oil Cake, trilling and squirming about in their chairs at the sweet taste. The gooey mixture left a slight film on their servos and mouths, and she quickly wiped them away with a tutted vent --- silly little things were more prone to making messes lately, another sign of growing she supposed.

While the dessert cooled ( and Cygnus and Cephei woke from a short nap ), the twins again lent their servos to finish the final touches to the card. Instead of signing their names Elita put writing ink over the palms and digits of a servo, and pressed it to the parchment, repeating the process so that two tiny servo-prints accompanied Kaal’s padded paw, and her designation.

         ‘To the best Sire in the universe, thank you for all you do. We love you very much.’

                                                                                    - Lita, Cygnus, Cephei & Kaal

Elita smiled, perfect --- and right on schedule.

Brightly wrapped boxes remained poised on the living area’s table, glinting in the mid-morning sunlight as the new point of interest for both sparkling. Cygnus was most adamant on exploring what the strange packages were, but Elita held him captive against her chassis along with his sister, balancing them both in one arm, with a cube of midgrade and the personalized card in the other. The gifts would be opened later that day, same as usual: Energon jellies, new buffing wax, a recently published text he had shown interest in reading, and perhaps what would be the best of the gifts, a framed family picture ( Kaal included ) for his desk --- that one was from Cygnus and Cephei.

Quietly, the small troupe came into the berthroom, finding the slumbering Prime EXACTLY where he had been left a few hours previous. The only warning came as a playful pulse in the bond before she released the two excited sparklings, letting them wriggle and babble over to their Sire from the cushioned vacancy beside him. Cephei’s small servos patted at crimson plating with squeaking giggles, while Cygnus pulled himself to drape himself over the cushion beside Optimus’ helm, both helping to wake him up just as Mama had told them too while Elita set the mid-grade and card on her mate’s berthside table.

There was no better way to be awoken than by two adorable sparklings, and hot mid-grade, especially on Father’s Day.

@oneshallstand

[elitaxne]

Cue sad sick Prime noises across the shared bond. Could he trouble her for some energon?

♔. }

       And just as her mate had done when she was ill, Elita opted to work from home today, and likely over the course of the week. Thankfully, Cygnus, Cephei, and Kaal for that matter, all had gone down for an early afternoon nap with no fuss, and in perfect time to the ailing Prime’s internal request. Acknowledging pulses serve as gentle reply as the femme untangled herself from a particularly large and fuzzy blanket, wincing at the usual pops and creaks of aging joints before heading into the kitchenette.

Only a few moments are spent heating the low-grade ( with a sneaky medication dosage mixed into the brew ), during which time a few other remedies are collected from their shelving units, playing off the hunches plaguing the other side of the bond. At the chime of the warmer the cube is removed and various vials and containers scooped up in one fell swoop, making her way to the closed berthroom door as quietly as possible.

Tapping the keypad with her elbow joint doors open and the fuchsia form slips silently inside, offering consolation in the form of internal pulses while approaching. Setting the cube on the side table Elita perches on the edge of the berth, lining up the additional items in a row.

❝ I also brought you some things that will help you feel better, Sweetspark, ❞ she murmured, lifting a single digit to silence any protests before they could be voiced. ❝ Relax, you do not have to ingest anything — they are all topical… ❞ her voice trailed off quietly, already plucking the first vial from the table and squeezing out a dollop of clear cream into her palm.

Already the strange simultaneously cool and hot compound tingled in her servo, a good sign that it was WORKING, and she gently kneaded it over top the crimson plating in slow circles, massaging the clear cream until it evenly covered the surface. Slowly, little by little, the cool-hot cream had been applied to stiff shoulder pauldrons, tense cabling, and sore neck joints; relaxing all points of contact with a constant coolness, and setting deeper with a heated counterpart.

Quickly wiping down of her servo with a rag allowed her to move to the next remedy: this time for his helm. A few drops of a sharper and sweeter scented liquid wetted the tips of her digits, then gently massaged into the delicate wiring and crooks of his helm, mainly at the sides and front. This would help alleviate migraines and general aches, loosening the swollen wiring and easing the pain. Slender digits kneaded the droplets with utmost delicacy, and once sure it had been properly applied, pulled away to wipe her servo again.

Cool cerulean fell to simply look over her mate with a soft smile, and with loving pulses leaned forwards to press a featherlight kiss to the Prime’s burning forecrest.

❝ Rest well, my Light. I will come check on you in a little bit, ❞ the Councillor whispered, pressing another kiss to the surface. ❝ Promise, ❞ she reassured, showering him in a few more gentle affections before rising from the berth and slipping back into the hall. About once an hour was what she had thus far managed, each time Optimus had been deep in recharge but no matter, he needed the rest and she was around when he would wake. Always.

[elitaxne]

┊❛ TIMES TWO ❜

♔. }

       Elita shifted again in her seat as quietly and carefully as possible, keeping whatever focus in her reserves on the other Councillor as best she could manage --- which was next to nothing. All day her systems had been inexplicably OFF, first it was her tanks refusing refuel, now thermal regulators were on the fritz, forcing her to remain in a continual state of over-heating. Primus, she could feel the thin layer of perspiration collecting on the surface of her plating... Disgusting. Thankfully, the other Councillor’s hadn’t taken notice, or they had and decided against commenting on it, either way she was grateful.

❝ ... To your point Councillor, I think this new bill will help streamline the international trade co-op’s--- ❞ a younger Councillor continued with a chuckle, as smoke billowed from his vents.

❝ Except in the matter of TARIFFS, you mean... ❞ the other, older Councillor responded, glancing up to Elita expectantly. He was mostly pointing out the obvious that Elita would object to, best to pretend to be on the same page...

Cerulean hues blinked in a slight daze and she nodded her helm, trying to shake off the dull ache starting to rise in her chassis. The sooner this was over the sooner she could go home and lay down --- but, she remained diligent and dutiful as always, unfortunately.

❝ Agreed, ❞ Elita finally answered, shifting again in her seat with a creak, ❝ Labour laws and import regulations are only one piece of the puzzle --- the largest part being tariffs. That is what will most affect international trades, not to mention--- ❞ A sharp prickling pain SHOT through her circuitry, stealing the air from her vents and cutting her words short. Denta grit down as both Councillors shared a worried glance, then stared back up at her. Before a question could be posed she waved her servo, and the pain thankfully ebbed.

❝ Not to mention, on-world vendors who set in place trades with sistering planets during the war... ❞ Elita finished with a wheeze. The two other Councillors nodded, looking back to their data pads with stylus’s in hand --- time to go back over the plans, for the umpteenth time. Cerulean drop back to her own data pad and vision blurred for but a moment as another sharp electric pain burned through internal wiring, but this time she managed to better hide the discomfort externally --- internally, however, she apologized in the bond for residual pain the Prime might have felt.

      {{ I have made the decision that I will be leaving earlier than usual today. My circuits are retaliating against me it would seem... }}

@oneshallstand

[elitaxne]

Time for morning cuddles! Optimus is curling up behind her, pressing soft kisses to the back of her helm while his arms envelop tightly around her frame. There isn't much time left until the little ones wake up, he wants to get as much cuddling in as was possible while they were still recharging.

♔. }

       Even though optics refuse to quite open Elita cannot help the wide instinctive grin slowly curving over tinted lip components, growing little by little with every kiss pressed to the back of her helm. Listening for distant stirrings audials flicked every now and then, the twins still soundly recharging, along with Kaal, leaving her and her mate to lazily enjoy the morning of their day off.

Scooting back lethargically fuchsia backplates pressed taught to crimson, the warmth of his larger frame spilling over her to banish back any hint of coolness held captive in her form. Slender digits reached up to take his own, slipping through familiar grooves to find a comfortable hold as a low purring hum rolled from her vocoder.

After several more seconds spent in total paralysis Elita gently pulled from the crimson hold, turning over so they were face to face, then shimmying close again to reclaim the warmth that had been temporarily lost. Optics slitted open slowly, peeking through half-hooded lids to find warm glowing cyan not even an inch away. Humming again servos found their usual resting places on his frame: one at the nape of taught neck cabling, and one above the centre-seam of his chassis, thumbing slow circles over the sedated spark pulse. Smiling gently, she leaned forwards with a contended pulse in the bond, finding his mouth with hers in a soft, sweet kiss.

                                                  {{ Good morning, Sweetspark. }}

Primus, she loved him so much.

[elitaxne]

💝- A memory that made them feel loved :3

                  « MEME REFERENCE » ○「 CLOSED 」

💝 ┊  ❛ A memory that made them feel loved ❜

♔. }

       Primus, her helm felt as though it would be split in two at any given second, and the aches in her frame did little to help the ill feeling either. Gradually, the virus had worked its way through the base and it was her turn to suffer. That was perhaps the worst part in all of it, neither her nor Optimus had been required there in months, now that the transition between the military and political realm had been instated. And yet, the last trip to sign off documents and meet their successors proved the nail in the proverbial coffin, at least, to her systems. SOMEHOW Optimus had walked away unscathed — for now, at least.

Perhaps it was for the best, he was needed to oversee the beginning stages of Kalis’ reconstruction today, and the rest of the week. The virus hadn’t set in fully until today, of course, and it was enough of a struggle getting him out the door yesterday when the first few hints of falling under the weather had started to take effect. He worried, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to stay, despite how much she wanted him to. Stubbornness aside, duty came first. Thus, she would try her best to recuperate alone in an empty home, and hopefully when he returned the virus would have seen its end.

Vents rattled on a hoarse cough, choking on a sickly build-up and struggling to expel it from clogged passageways. A quiet groan rolled from her vocoder, staring up at the ceiling of their new dwelling while she fought the urge to offline. Every wire in her being felt as though they had been injected with cement, plating throbbing with a dull ache and limbs strangely light and numb; as though she had been dismembered. Elita couldn’t think of another virus that had grappled with her systems so ferociously, but the feeling of death certain was familiar, several times over.

Tanks gurgled, running on empty despite her form not having ANY strength to maneuver to the kitchenette. Their new living space — while beautiful — was built for larger mecha, and the layout certainly spoke to that. Rooms were laid out with greater space between, and their property took up the entire top floor of the complex. Walking to the kitchenette already proved to take longer than anticipated on usual days as Elita became more used to the setting ( after having been cooped up in claustrophobic military bases and then an aircraft hangar on Earth ), but today when she felt like absolute slag? The femme may as well have been walking to the other side of the planet, her frame knew no difference in the exertion.

❝ Lita? ❞ a quiet voice whispered from the doorway, and tired cerulean fell instantly to find her Intended lingering in the threshold.

❝ What are you—- ❞ her words were cut short by another hoarse cough, leaving vents wheezing and gasping for fresh air. In that time the Prime DESCENDED on her in a matter of seconds, perching himself on her side of the berth. ❝ D-Doing h-here? ❞ Elita sputtered in continuation, taking note of his new position. ❝ I thought you w-were suppose to be in Kalis the rest of the week…? ❞ she managed, choking on shallow ventilations.

❝ Originally, I was… ❞ the Prime started bashfully, reaching out to run a large servo along her spinal column, hoping to help alleviate her discomfort. ❝ But they understood I had a personal emergency to tend to. All they needed was for me to see the city, and go over the plans, and those can be sent to my office here for review, ❞ he paused, still trailing thick digits along FRIGID fuchsia backplates, ❝ Besides, I despised the idea of being on the other side of Cybertron knowing you are not feeling well, ❞ he finished quietly, looking over paled features as his spark ACHED in its casing. Leaving his bed-ridden future mate in their new dwelling to fend for herself was NOT something he wanted to weigh on his conscious. Not to mention, residual merges had started to leave larger traces of her spark signature tied to his own. Optimus could feel the distant presence ( or at least, perceive it ), and all he wanted was to be there beside her.

❝ Primus, you’re even more worse for wear than last I saw you, ❞ Optimus vented with a concerned rumble, scooting closer still to the freezing femme.

Paled lip components curved into a weak smile, fascia riddled with exhaustion easing for the tender moment between coughing fits. ❝ The second day of a virus is always the worst day — so says Ratchet, at least.. ❞ Elita croaked, voice barely recognizable amidst the rough tone and static, but still she threw him a wry grin.

Optimus’ smile broadened at the comment, venting in amusement as he nodded his helm. At least she had retained her sense of humour, though it did little to ease the concern bubbling in the Pit of his spark. He HATED seeing her this way, knowing full-well it was worse than what she led on. Even after all this time, she was too proud for her own good, and he worried enough for the both of them.

❝ That he would, wouldn’t he? ❞ the Prime responded, setting aside his own thoughts to keep the light-hearted mood as his servo continued to trail along the length of her spinal column.

Elita’s smile faltered, quickly overtaken by another hoarse coughing fit that sent her frame lurching forwards, and plates rattling loudly. As selfish as the request for him to have stayed from the business trip would have been, she was glad he cut it short all the same. She needed him, and she was not above admitting to it after all these years. The fit subsided, and she relaxed back against the cushions, spark swelling in its casing now that it’s other half had returned to the close proximity. Visceral happiness, relief, and appreciation spilled from her tired EM Field, mingling with the warmth and reassurance of his own as crimson plating leaned closer, and her Intended pressed a kiss to the ice cold helm crest.

❝ I missed you too, you know, ❞ Optimus murmured, nudging the intricately styled helm with extreme caution, knowing she had been complaining of a horrible helm-ache yesterday, that had likely carried over to today.

❝ My comments or my presence? ❞ Elita quipped tiredly, voice raspy and hoarse in the wake of the recent coughing fit.

The Prime chuckled, ❝ Both. ❞

Cerulean softened, searching cyan as the warmth of his touch ran along her backplating. ❝ I missed you too, ❞ she vented weakly. As if on cue tanks rumbled again, and Elita pulled herself with a whine, then followed the prompt of larger servos as they guided her to lay back down amongst the mountain of cushions and blankets.

❝ I also brought you some things, ❞ Optimus began, grinning in anticipation to her reaction. ❝ I’ll go get them, one moment, ❞ he vented, pressing another kiss to frigid faceplating before rising to his pedes and briskly setting out the door.

Cerulean hues blinked against heavy lids, clutching at her chest-plating as another series of coughs stole the air from her ventilations, leaving her frame aching and weaker than before. Within no time at all the Prime had returned arms full of containers and bagged packages that were promptly spread out over their berth, along with a hot cube of low-grade, which she took from his hold and cradled carefully to her chassis. Clambering onto the berth the Prime made sure not to jostle her frame too much, coming to settle right beside her with his plethora of feel-better items proudly on display.

Elita swallowed her first mouthful of low-grade, ridges crinkled as optics haphazardly glanced about the pile. ❝ What is all this? Did you buy out an entire pharmacy? ❞ she chuckled, then began coughing, choking on the blockages from before with a wheeze, only this time with added alleviation by the hands of her mate, who again massaged chilly backplating.

❝ I… may have… ❞ his voice trailed off, neither confirming nor denying he had done just that. ❝ I didn’t know what to get you, and I wanted to cover ALL the bases just to be certain, so I bought one of everything they had available, ❞ Optimus admitted, sifting through the containers and turning over the labels so he could read them. ❝ Tell me your symptoms, and I will see what we have to combat them — aside from coughing, chills, and a helm ache. I knew about those already, and the clinician said that THIS would alleviate all of those, ❞ the mech smiled, optics twinkling hopefully as he held an orange vial up to his Intended.

❝ Excellent, ❞ she rasped, taking the vial in a trembling servo and adding it to the low-grade. Downing the rest of the cube in one go Elita set it on her berth-side table, groaning again while regaining her comfortable position nestled close to crimson plating.

As she moved, a crimson arm curled around her and he too settled in place, holding the unusually cold femme close to his frame with hopes the additional warmth he brought would help even more. Digits took to their previous places, running up and down the slender back while thumbing soft circles at points he already knew held the most tension when she was ill.

Weary vents gave a purr at the caresses, already feeling the aches start to dissipate, and frame begin to ease, making it harder and harder to fight the urge to slip into recharge. Cyan glanced down to catch drooping optical lids, slitted open then closed at a heavy rate. Draping his other arm to complete the embrace, Optimus held his sickly future mate closer, resting his helm above her own with a soft sigh.

❝ Is there anything else you need, Lita? ❞ he asked, looking down to her despite her optics already being closed. The Prime smiled, placing another kiss to her forecrest.

Elita nodded, half-awake, already feeling the medication and exhaustion working in tandem. Nuzzling her helm in the crook of his neck cabling the gentle vibrations of his sparkpulse helped lull her closer to recharge, synchronizing with her own in perfect harmony despite the separate casings. She felt better already. ❝ Stay with me… ❞ she whispered groggily, fighting back a muted wheeze.

Optimus lifted his servo to rest at the side of her helm, brushing a thumb over dull-coloured cheekplating. ❝ I had no intention of leaving, ❞ he murmured unsure whether or not she heard him as the slender form went limp against his. Smiling to himself, servos continued to massage and thumb over her frame, listening to their sparks as they settled into perfect tandem, then after a short while slipping into recharge alongside his Intended.

                                        There was no where else he would rather be.