#( NPC. ) COUNCILLOR MERGA

[elitaxne]

HI ITS BEEN A WHILE. anyways i finally caught up on all your mainverse threads and idunno how but i think merga is behind op almost dying >:( permission to kick his ass?

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                                              My, my, my how the accusations fly...       

    ❝ The events during the Educational Centre’s opening are nothing short of TRAGIC, Anonymous. I know how my past transgressions during the Golden Age have tarnished my reputation during this Age of Peace, and in due course, I have since contributed HEAVILY to Optimus’ project as atonement for previous shortcomings. Many hours spent working alongside our former Prime to see his monument to educational longevity come to life as was deserved. My only objective was ( and is ) to better the future generations of Cybertron’s youth — including my new bitlet granddaughter — no matter who or where they hail from. Optimus made me see those very errors of my antiquated ways... and my spark is shattered knowing that neither he nor Councillor Elita-1 will be able to see such a future come to fruition following their untimely passing. We all mourn the tremendous loss of our Prime... and holdfast that his kin will follow in the large pedefalls of their Sire. Of course, the Council will be there every step of the way to guide them both... ❞

But he digresses... Taking a long puff from his cygar, white tendrils seep from the corners of his mouth and vents in a tantric almost dangerous dance. Neon optics glint knowingly.

 ❝ Besides, while the High Council continues our FORMAL investigation... If you do wish to seek justice, I would be very wary of Chancellor Antares. If knowledge serves me correctly, HE was the one who provided the construction teams for the project, and had grown intimately close to Optimus before his untimely demise... ❞

                                       Wait...                                              

                                                                What do you mean ALMOST—

[elitaxne]

┊❛ THE OTHER SIDE ❜

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       It had been over a month and still no word on his GENEROUS PROPOSAL. The Councillor was a patient mech --- he always had been --- yet even he had limitations. Everything had been laid out plainly for the non-political Prime to understand, any halt in progress undoubtedly stemmed from his infernal bondmate, and her reservations towards the ‘uncharacteristic offer’. At least, so far as what his informants had told him.

                                          He would see to its progress personally, then.

Navy and gold shoulder pauldrons rolled with a slight crack, stiff and tense from the rigid posture. Neon optics flashed and with a few gentle raps of a balled servo against the partially opened door he peered inside with a hum.

❝ Apologies if I am interrupting you at all, Sir --- there was no Assistant’s desk, and the door... ❞ the raspy voice trailed off, replaced instead with an almost amused vent, ❝ You would not happen to have a moment to speak with me, would you? ❞

Whatever answer the Prime gave he had NO intentions of leaving. But of course, the other needn’t know that.

@oneshallstand

[elitaxne]

┊❛ CONSPIRACY ❜

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       ❝ If history is anything to go by I predict you will all be severely disappointed... Were something SUBSTANTIAL to have happened to either of them we would have heard by now, ❞ Councillor Merga drawled, taking another puff of his third cygar, flicking the ashy end into the collecting bowl. ❝ It is most likely the result of the virus that has been going around, and since she is BONDED with the Prime they rushed to Emergency to assure it would not affect him... ❞ he finished, expelling the bitter smoke from raspy vents.

❝ But, Merga, you weren’t there with her --- you didn’t see her. She looked like the Pit, worse than I’ve seen anyone afflicted with any virus, ❞ the younger mech continued, fidgeting with his stylus, ❝ If someone would’ve said she was dying I’d have believed them... ❞ he shivered, quickly taking a gulp of lukewarm mid-grade, trying to clear his processors of the sickly image.

❝ I do not think we would be lucky enough for that... ❞ a slightly older femme whispered to the same-aged Councillor beside her, who chuckled lowly with a knowing gaze. While their bets remained on a sudden spark-attack they knew better than to get their hopes up, Elita and Optimus remained unfortunately healthy mecha; plus hard to kill, they had survived the war after all...

Neon optics rolled at his colleague’s commentary, and Merga continued reading through his data pad with a dull even BORED expression. Everyone at the Towers had become mindlessly obsessed with the First Chair and Prime ever since Elita’s sickness a few hours ago. While their meeting had the intention of discussing the latest international trade proposal, it had been placed on hold --- along with the entire PLANET for that matter --- Cybertron came to a complete stop ever since news broke. And he couldn’t escape the madness despite his best efforts.

❝ Sh, sh, sh, quiet it’s back on !! ❞ an older mech cut in, waving the end of his cygar to Starburst at the opposite end of the table, ❝ Hey, Sweetspark, turn the volume up a bit will you? ❞

The red femme begrudgingly complied with a scowl, dragging a digit tip over the control screen just as the broadcast credits came to view. It took every ounce of strength NOT to leap across the table and defend Elita, but doing so would only make things worse --- her duty was simply to take notes for Elita if the meeting ever did occur. At least Merga remained civil, oddly enough, dutifully working on the trade proposal like they were suppose to be doing... at least, that’s what she assumed. Whatever it was he was reading and writing he seemed more invested in than the newscast.

[ Anchor ] >> For those of you just joining us here is the developing situation: Just before mid-day today Councillor Elita-1 fell violently and suddenly ill while in the Council Towers, and was promptly admitted to the clinic alongside Optimus Prime via Emergency Ground Bridge. <<

❝ Yeah, yeah, get to the good stuff. Is she offline or--- ❞

❝ SSSSHHHHHHH--- !! ❞

[ Anchor ] >> ... We have yet to receive any word on the Councillor and Prime’s condition, but sources close to the case report they have been moved to a private wing, specializing in spark health and safety, with Doctor Atria and her team. Again, if you are just joining us, we cannot confirm any diagnosis nor the Councillor and Prime’s condition, and have yet to receive confirmation on any current speculation. <<

Resounding ‘Awws’ filled the large meeting room as the frustration seeped from nearly every EM Field and filled the air like a thick fog. Starburst shifted in her seat, sharing a brief glance with Councillor Merga before peeling her gaze back to the screen. Hopefully, the silence on Optimus and Elita’s end of things was a good sign, but even then she didn’t know for sure. They had a healthy sparkling last time as well, but upon emergence was when things took a turn for the worse...

[ Anchor ] >> In the meantime we have our panel of experts weighing in from across Cybertron. On behalf of all of us at the station we thank you all for joining us. To start, what would you say given the current situation? <<

[ Expert 1 ] >> Thank you for having me. First off I would like to say that from a Medical standpoint, it really is rather obvious what could have caused this. If we look at this not as an isolated event but over a course of time it’s easy to piece together the puzzle. There have been multiple reports speculating the Councillor’s slow decline in health. Colleagues have gone on record stating she has been working less and less, public appearances have declined from minimum to non-existent, and both her and the Prime have been frequenting the clinic for months leading to this event. <<

[ Expert 2 ] >> Pardon the interjection, but to your point: it’s also no secret that the First Chair had health problems prior to this. On her public records she is listed to have a degenerative disease --- stemming from the T-Cog --- but in some cases have been reported to link back to the spark chamber. <<

[ Expert 1 ] >> Yes, exactly. But also keep in mind, being bonded to Optimus, who currently acts as host for the Matrix of Leadership, there was a rather large concern that the relic’s energies could prove benign, and over time, cause adverse affects on the second half of the bond. Mixed with pre-existing health defects it is not impossible to believe that perhaps the spark, over time, has simply dwindled on its own accord. <<

Merga swivelled in his chair to glance up at the large screen. ❝ Primus... ❞ he sneered, turning incredulously to his colleagues, ❝ Of course, you all realize that is HERESY, do you not? ❞ Immediate shushes met the strange words of protest and the elder mech went back to smoking his cygar, reading over his newest messages with a prickling field. He had at least done his part and tried to speak against things...

[ Anchor ] >> By those measures then, would you all say the Matrix itself is rejecting the bond and in doing so, inflicting the sickness? <<

[ Expert 3 ] >> I certainly would, it’s the only logical explanation. No one knows the full breadth of the Matrix power, nor the intricacies, and certainly being sparkmates with another is an unprecedented occurrence One that has NEVER before happened in the history of the Primacy. But here is what we DO know about the Matrix from the teachings... <<

Merga had completely tuned out the broadcast by now, tilting his data pad closer to the navy and gold chassis to better read the new message from his contact at the clinic.

          CONTACT > [ Preparing to move from observation room to surgery. ]           CONTACT > [ Our team has everything blocked. Press can’t get through. No leaks. ]             MERGA   > [ Is it as we suspected? ]           CONTACT > [ Yes. Medical team wheeled in two protoforms. ]

Ridges narrowed as neon optics flicked across the screen, fighting the sudden SPIKE in his spark-pulse though he was sure the apparent shock spilled briefly into his field.

           MERGA   > [ Singular extraction? ]          CONTACT > [ No. Overhead Atria; twins. ]

Merga felt his own spark LURCH into his intake, and he choked on his cygar --- though hardly anyone else in the room noticed or offered to assist in the wheezing, shushing him to listen to the broadcast. Slowly regaining his composure he managed a reply.

          MERGA   > [ Are you certain? ]         CONTACT > [ Affirmative. ]

                                Of all the unfortunate news to hear...

Merga stifled another hoarse cough, grinding his denta behind a hardened jawline with a force that nearly threatened to unhinge the joints. TWINS. Not one but TWO spawns of the Prime now sat between him and the Primacy, likely by purpose --- an extra addition to make up for the number they lost with Saiph. He certainly had to hand it to Optimus and Elita, assuring a safety cushion to their legacy with kin. A clever political move, and even larger commitment.

He --- and his trusted circle for that matter --- had all been banking on the possibility Elita had been carrying, but never did they think such would come to fruition with DOUBLE their expectations. Finishing off his cygar he blunted the end in the glass collecting bowl, taking it upon himself to dismiss the meeting, not that it mattered.

Neon optics flashed up at red plating, finding Elita’s young Assistant frozen in place, worry and apprehension etched on smooth fascia. Merga let his mouth twitch into a crooked grin, tipping his helm to the side as her large sapphire optics met his. She would be of use to him later, so of course, he remained cordial. The less she suspected him the better ( though he highly doubted such. Working so closely with Elita likely tainted her view of him ). It was a pity, really... Starburst seemed to be so competent and intelligent, he would’ve rather loved to have offered her a job in the future when --- Ah, well, in time perhaps...

Once out of the room he tapped at his comm, a familiar frequency, one that was expecting word from him...

                    ¦ ¦  The usual. One hour. I have a story for you...  ¦ ¦

[elitaxne]

┊❛ SHUFFLING THE DECK ❜

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       The news of a death was never easy to hear and accept, especially that of a colleague, moreso considering how SUDDEN it had been. Elder members of the Council had their days numbered, regrettably so did he, such was the continuous cycle: creation, life, death, rebirth. Over and over it repeated, already he had lived many lifetimes throughout the expanse of the universe just as every other mecha, just as their Prime --- if the rumours were to be believed.

                           Optimus: the reincarnation of the Thirteenth Original Prime.

Blasphemy to draw such a disgraceful comparison... then again, it was the Thirteenth Prime who had betrayed the other Primes, who had so foolishly offered themselves to the Well and relinquished their power to become what? Cybertronian. Even the Prime’s had their downfalls, and in that aspect Optimus certainly had held up to that image.

As did his bondmate --- if the rumours were to be believed. Another relinquishing of power to a pretty face with a mind more clever than the devil, and twice as power-consumed. Perhaps Optimus really was the Thirteenth in another life after all, some misfortunes were far too natural to be coincidental.

The passing of the Fourth Chair had been painless ( they were assured ), an illness that came with an aged spark had struck late in the evening, taking the mech in his sleep. There were worse ways to go after all... It was odd however that he had showed no outward signs of sickness, then again, he had always been a stubborn mech --- to show any signs of weakness would force Elita’s hand in replacement; the wait was expected, respected, and finally had come to a close.

Try as she might he was next in line as successor for the Fourth seat --- Councillor of the boundary that housed their beloved Iacon no less. It had been their agreement, one forged before the war tore their planet to ruin, and one that was to be honoured long after it had begun rebuilding.

Primus, he could feel the fuchsia femme’s dissatisfaction spilling through her EM Field as she made her way towards him, all of Cybertron’s politicans gathered in the ornate hearing chambers for the ceremony. The cold glint in her optics made him smile, her naming of the Council had cost him his bench place --- but no more; a mere roadbump that only briefly intervened on the inevitable. His place would always be as a High Councillor, and no one --- no she or the Prime --- would EVER take that away from him.

As one of the original Councillors it was his right, his DUTY, to serve on the bench.

Neon optics flicker over slender features draped in translucent crystalline garments, hugging curves and cascading smooth plating with shimmers like starlight. Its brilliance rivalled only that of his own, wearing Iacon’s traditional colouring of GOLD, embellished with crystals more expensive than the tower where her and the Prime lived. Off-world jewels from the Golden Age, valuable and rare, only the finest of garments for an Induction Ceremony.

                                                 HIS Induction Ceremony.

All optics in the grand inner sanctum of the Council Towers --- and camera lenses projecting the live recording to every screen across Cybertron would capture this shift in history. Marking the day that would set him back on the course of recalmation, that was his internal promise to his colleagues who peered down from their prospective seats with small nods; it was simply all a matter of time.

Golden screens opened the visual text of the Code, held by one of the few remaining historical keepers in surprisingly steady servos, as he placed his own over the words. Councillor Elita stood at the side for the preceding, sceptre and staff --- representations of power and peace ( a tradition that carried from the Golden Age surprisingly enough ) held in her slender digits.

Merga repeated the recited text with perfect diction and clarity, quoting the required lines and oaths, promises of integrity, of justice, of mercy, of truth, and speaking in the native tongue that had nearly been eradicated along with the war. True Iaconian dialect, Primus it felt good to let the familiar words fall freely from his vocoder after having to utilize Neo-Cybex as per mandate.

The historian stepped back in place to the side, job now to record the new assigning of power as the Head Councillor came to stand before him. Cool, icy cerulean peered into steely neon hues intently, the silent conversation passing between the both of them nothing but cordial, yet the camera’s would never know such. Neon flicker up to the rest of the Council each at their places on the bench, with the Matrixbearer at the centre, his optics downcast and never wavering from that of the older mech. Good.

❝ Kneel, ❞ she prompted per her script, calm and collected despite the entire procession being a blow to her pride.

He commended her for keeping her emotions so intact, years of creating tall walls and allowing a spark casing to freeze had done wonders for the once fiery, passionate femme. Merga could still remember the day as though it were yesterday when he personally knocked her three pegs off her pedestal --- Zeta’s prideful appointing, who would go on to be named a potential successor. How funny life works, having to watch the honour of Prime slip through ones capable digits to that of a pious Archivist. No matter, Optimus had wound himself around those very digits all the same --- and even carried the Matrix in her stead like a well-trained lap dog. And there were those who said she had lost her ferocity... he disagreed.

The old mech lowered gracefully on a knee joint, helm bowing if only to fulfil the visual standard set by tradition. Gold glimmers of the staff and septre draw close as she crosses them to rest upon each shoulder pauldron respectively, dull thuds from the movements echoing in the opulent hall for all of Cybetron to hear.

Elita began softly, smoothly, yet no less strongly. All of Cybertron and beyond may well be watching, one of the largest audiences ever to bear witness so formally. Even upon first naming the Council years ago there hadn’t been enough mecha for such an elaborate ceremony, the proceedings were a testament to how far Cybetron had come. It was about all she could take solace in at the moment.

❝ In the sight of Primus light, at the Hall of the Council, you have been summoned in the wake of great tragedy. Per the succession of the respected Councillor the burden and title of their legacy has been named to pass to your shoulders. If for any reason you are unable to fulfil your duties and uphold the sworn vows as taken in the presence of your peers, another will be chosen by Energon or mandate in accordance to the Law. Do you accept the honour and privilege upon which you have spoken your oath? ❞

Merga replied with the scripted response, ❝ I do, with all my spark, Primus as my witness. ❞

Elita continued, ❝ Do you swear to serve with integrity, justice, nobility, and EQUALITY, to the best and beyond your abilities, in accordance to the four pillars of the Council, so sworn by Primus? ❞

Merga eyed her at the certain INFLECTION at a particular word, corners of his mouth tugging in to a hint of a grin. Glitch. ❝ I do, with all my spark, Primus as my witness. ❞

Smooth alto continued after a pause, the final phrase that would complete the ceremony, already it tasted like bitter poison on Elita’s glossa while she spoke. ❝ Noble Merga of Iacon, First of his name, Senator of the Fourth boundary, Named Successor of Councillor Volux --- in the witness of Optimus, Last of the Primes, the High Council, Senators, Chancellors, Cybertron, and her encompassing sistering colonies, as vested by the servos of the First Chair and in her power, you are hereby named High Councillor, Honourable Keeper of the Fourth Seat. You may rise. ❞

As Merga came to stand thunderous applause echoed around him, neon optics shining in the warm amber hues of sunlight streaming in tall wall-length windows behind the Council. The roar of frames coming to stand in their seats per tradition joined the applause, finding only a handful of servos that kept their appreciation to a minimum: the Prime, the Head Councillor, and half the bench. Today was but the first day that would spark change, Cybertron would return to its Golden Age --- that he swore with all his spark.