#[ || Broken Vow || ]

[briar-wc-design]

[anon-e-miss]

Broken Vows - 9

“‘M gonna go look at habs for ya when ya have a rest,” Jazz told Prowl. He avoided the glyph nap which seemed a little mocking to him. As his frame continued to integrate the delicate repairs and with a fragile self-respair systems, Prowl ran out of energy quickly and recharged off and on throughout the mega-cycle.

“Perhaps you might like to take Smokescreen with you?” Prowl offered. “He would benefit from fresh air.”

“Are ya sure?” Jazz asked.

“I trust you,” Prowl said.

“What about you and Blue?” Smokescreen asked.

“We need more rest than you, Bravespark,” Prowl told him. “I know it is not terribly fun for you when we recharge. There is a fine playground in the park your progenitor and I used to walk in.”

“I’d love to,” Jazz said. “What do ya say, Smokey?”

“Okay!”

“I’ll give ya a list o’ favourites,” Jazz offered Prowl. Prowl just shook his helm.

“I trust you and Smokescreen to select it,” he said. “You know how little I concerned myself with my habsuite.”

“A’ight,” Jazz said. “We’ll do our best.”

Smokescreen was nervous, Jazz knew. His genitor was nervous too. Jazz held Smokescreen’s servo in a firm grip as they walked down the hall and made their way to the tram that would drop them off at the metro. It was faster to drive, of course but Jazz was too nervous to drive Smokescreen and the mechling was far too young to drive on his own. Smokescreen would not have wheels of his own until he was a youngling. Sooner or later, Jazz would give him a ride somewhere but Smokescreen had already gotten lost once on his watch and he was not going to risk getting in a crash with him on their first trip off base. The media were all gone, having been chased off by the Primal Vanguard after Prime had given his speech. That did not mean there might not be opportunists who would sneak a quick shot but Jazz had a plan for that.

“I want ya to wear this,” Jazz told Smokescreen as he magnetized a small device to the collar of his armour.

“What’s it for?” Smokescreen asked.

“If anyone tries to take a picture o’ ya, this’ll scramble it,” Jazz told him. “I know yer ori don’t want yer face all o’er the news.”

“It was the same in Praxus,” Smokescreen said. “He didn’t want me in portraits. He didn’t want Blue either but he wasn’t allowed to say no.”

“‘M sorry yer Ori had to make that choice,” Jazz told him. “I’m sorry I bout’m in that spot.”

“Origin loves you,” Smokescreen said. “And it makes him sad. It always made him sad.”

“He’s got good reason, Sweetspark,” Jazz told him. “I broke his spark. I did it on purpose.”

“You were sick,” Smokescreen defended him and Jazz ruffled his helm. After everything Jazz had said and done, Prowl had excused him to their creation. It was a kindness Jazz did not think he deserved.

“Don’t make the damage any easier to live with, Bitlet,” he said.

“Hmm,” Smokescreen took a seat in the window and Jazz sat next to him. “You feel bad about it.”

“Sure do,” Jazz told him. “I didn’t know I’d kindled ya wit Prowl until I saw yer designation next to his on the casualties list. Even when I was better, I was too scared to face your Ori, even the memories o‘m so I didn’t read his letters, ‘n I lied to myself ‘bout how bad I’d behaved. I didn’t want to remember how bad I’d been. When I saw yer designation I had to face what a monster I’d been. I didn’t think I deserved to mourn ya, either o’ ya. But I needed to. I still carry the ultrasound photos he sent me.”

“Really?” Smokescreen asked. Jazz showed him the ultrasound. “I was just a blob.”

“We all start out that way.”

Jazz knew Smokescreen hoped his procreators would get back together and raise him and his brother together. It was something Jazz was a bit too scared to hope for himself. He loved Prowl dearly. With all the clarity in the world now, Jazz did not shy from this truth. The reality was, however he had hurt Prowl terribly and he had driven him away, laying the groundwork for the direction the Praxian’s life had taken. Every awful thing that had happened after could be placed at Jazz’s peds. At some point, if Prowl ever wanted to hear it, Jazz would like to apologize probably, to make sure he knew that Jazz took responsibility, that he had no excuses for everything he had said and done. He could not ask for a chance to be better for Prowl, for Smokescreen and for Bluestreak. Jazz would have to be better and to let the chips fall however they might.

“I know Origin’s originator and grandcreators were afts,” Smokescreen said. “What about yours? Origin never told me about them.”

“That’s ‘cause I never told’m,” Jazz explained. “My genitors were split-spark twins. They died in a riot in Polyhex ‘n losin’em broke my Ori ’n made ‘m go mad... sorta like I did, I guess. Me ‘n my brother, my twin split up... blamin’ different mecha for what happened. I know they’re alive but that’s all I know.”

“You got better,” Smokescreen said. “I bet he will too.”

Counterpunch had sent Jazz another of his rants just that light-cycle. As always, it made no sense. There was no threat to Jazz in particular or the Autobots in general. It was just random glyphs, not even in sentences but almost just splattered across the page. Because Counterpunch did not know he had creations, because Punch had always considered his family to be his and not his alter’s, that he even had the code to the commlink Jazz had only ever shared with his family was still a bit unnerving. Talk of a mechanical spark and grinding gears, even when Jazz read it together with the other notes he had received lately, he found no meaning in it. He wondered if Ricochet got notes like these. His twin would never tell him. Ricochet had blamed Sentinel Prime for the deaths of their progenitors and the madness of their originator, in hindsight Jazz had come to realize that he had been right. Ricochet did not forgive Jazz lending is allegiance to that prime. Whether Ricochet called himself a Decepticon or freelanced, as had been the family business, Jazz did not know. He had not spoken to his twin in millenia and had not laid optics on him for even longer.

“This is our stop,” Jazz took Smokescreen servo and led him down the escalator and out onto the street.

It was just around the corner from Mirror’s, nearer than even Prowl’s old hab and been and a short walk to the park. There were other habsuite on his list to look at but if this one was even close to as good as the ad had suggested, he thought it would be perfect. Smokescreen, of course, would be the one to cast the deciding vote. The property manager shook Smokescreen’s servo after he shook Jazz’s and that was a point in his favour. There were lots of families in the building, or so said the manager and that was a point for the building. No one had lived in the habsuite for a while so it was a completely blank slate. Imagining how it might be set up was not a problem to Jazz. He laughed as Smokescreen ran about, checking every room. The mechling definitely needed sometime in the park to release some energy.

“This room for Origin, because it has a pretty view,” Smokescreen pulled Jazz along for a tour. “This room’s for Blue because its right next door. This rooms for me and this rooms for my grandori and uncle when they come to visit.”

“He’s so sweet,” the property manager said. “And so well behaved.”

“His Ori gets all the credit,” Jazz replied.

“Origin’s going to love it,” Smokescreen declared as they left, key card stored in Jazz’s subspace. As Jazz was an officer in the Autobot Corp, the property manager was quick to sign the habsuite over to Jazz, even having never met the principle tenant. Security was good, it would be better when Jazz added encryptions to the lock. Smokescreen had picked a good room for Prowl, it had a few of the park. He would love it.

“He’ll love that ya picked it for’m,” Jazz said. “How ‘bout we go to the park now ‘n ya can run ‘round like a wild mechanimal?”

“Okay!”

“And who is this?” Jazz jumped. The voice was husky. He knew without looking that it belonged to a wispy femme about his originator’s age.

“Dipole!” Jazz exclaimed. He had met her when she had returned from burying her progenitor. The funds that had seen her get there had been stolen and Prowl had hunted the thief down and returned them too her.

“I’m Smokescreen, Ms Dipole!”

“You look just like your Origin, doin’t you?” Dipole said. “Mirror mentioned you stopped by, to pick up a peace offering. Than she saw the news and she’s been as close to a wreck as I’ve ever seen her.”

“Mirror makes the yummy rust sticks, right?” Smokescreen asked.

“That’s right,” the femme replied.

“Prowl’s got some more healin’ to do but he’ll visit soon,” Jazz promised.

“Mirror always thought of Prowl as something of an adoptive grandcreation,” Dipole said. “What with him being all but orphaned.”

“Can we say hi?” Smokescreen asked.

“Uh...” Jazz thought on it. “I don’t want to take the wind outta yer Ori’s sails, Bravespark.”

“Eh?”

“I thought yer Ori outta be the one to introduce ya to Mirror,” Jazz said.

“He won’t mind,” Smokescreen said. “Especially if we bring more rust sticks. And... if Ms Mirror is worried about Origin, she’ll feel better and Origin’ll feel better knowing she’s not worrying anymore.”

“He is very clever,” Dipole said.

“All credit goes to his Ori,” Jazz replied. “Okay, we’ll say hi to Mirror.”

“They were really buried for vorns?” Dipole asked, softly as they headed to the bakery.

“Yeah,” Jazz replied.

“Mirror wouldn’t look at the casualty list,” Dipole explained. “After he said goodbye, she always figured he’d come back. She said he belonged here and not in Praxus but... well he never came back and then Praxus was gone. She didn’t want to know because if she didn’t know than she could imagine he was well, wherever he was.”

“I promise he’s okay now,” Jazz said. “He thought Smokey outta get out ‘n get some exercise while ‘m ‘n the bitty rest more.”

“It’ll be good to see him,” Dipole said. “He was always one of Mirror’s favourites.”

As was always the case, Jazz smelled Mirror’s Glaze before he saw it. She was both baker and goodie maker and she was a master of everything she touch. Something she did that her customers loves was she decorated some cakes upfront where customers could watch. Jazz remembered how much the sparklings he had watched had seemed to love that. The elderly femme was at that very counter, pouring her signature multi-colour glaze over a collection of small cakes. There was a mechling kneeling on the bench in front of the counter, watching Mirror work. Smokescreen let go of Jazz’s servo and inched up to take a perch next to the stranger. Jazz stood back with Dipole and watched. With the precision of millennia of practice, Mirror swiped a long spatula across the tops of the cakes as the excess glaze dripped own into the trail. She raised her helm from her work and smiled at the mechlings as the other other got up to go. Her optics widened and she looked up and saw Jazz with Dipole. She managed a little wave to the mechling who had been watching her work.

“This is...?” She asked, plating almost ashen.

“Smokescreen,” Jazz said. “Smokey, this is Mirror. One o’ yer Ori’s favourite mechanisms.”

“Hello Ma’am,” Smokescreen said. “Nice to meet you.”

“My goodness you look like your originator,” Mirror gasped. “With just a touch of your progenitor.”

“Origin says I have Genitor’s smile,” Smokescreen declared.

“You do,” Mirror agreed.

“Dipole saw us on the street and Smokey couldn’t wait to meet ya,” Jazz explained. “Prowl’s doin’ great. Just needs a lot o’ recharge right now.”

“Don’t you dare let him rush himself,” Mirror ordered and Smokescreen giggled.

“Better listen, Genitor, she means it.”

“Clever mechling,” Mirror praised him.

Smokescreen decided they should bring cakes to the medbay, to thank the medics and nurses of helping them. Jazz could not deny it was a sweet idea. Really, he could not deny Smokescreen anything just yet, something that was going to get him into trouble with Prowl if he was not careful. It was Smokescreen who suggested maybe Mirror or Dipole might want to come visit Prowl and Bluestreak on base and Jazz also thought it was a decent idea. Prowl was very much in a daze, though he was entirely lucid, his world had been blown to pieces and he was too out of sorts to even begin putting it back together. The Autobots were not the same as the ones who had chased him off. Optimus was as different from Sentinel as monochrome and technicolor. Mirror and Dipole were the same though, absolutely the same, on the surface as they had always been and it might be good for Prowl to have a bit of that familiarity. He would check with Prowl first. For now, he had the comm for the bakery.

“Genitor, genitor!” Smokescreen pulled on Jazz’s bracer as Dipole helped Mirror back up the cakes.

“What’s up, Smokey?” Jazz asked. His creation was in a panic.

“He doesn’t want to go with him!” Smokescreen pointed to the very mechling that had been watching Mirror work. Someone had him by the wrist, tugging him along as the mechling struggled. “He’s scared. He’s really scared.”

He was. Jazz understood now how Smokescreen could be as perceptive as he was.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “Watch Smokey, okay? Be ready to comm the enforcers.”

“Let go! Let go!” The mechling was squirming. He saw Jazz coming and struggled even harder. “Let me go!”

“Hey!” Jazz called to the mech as he grabbed his shoulder. He did not finish his sentence. As the mech turned, brushing his servo away, Jazz knew exactly who this was. “Lockdown! Got some cogs showin’ yer face in Iacon.”

“Outta my way, shortstack,” Lockdown sneered.

“Let him go!” Smokescreen yelled as he kicked Lockdown in the leg. Even as Lockdown started to turn, Jazz saw white he pulled a blaster from his subspace and brought the butt down on Lockdown’s helm. Dipole was there, swooping both mechlings up and out of harms way.

“I’m so sorry,” Dipole said. “He’s fast!”

“He is,” Jazz agreed. “‘N real brave.”

“Devcon, are you okay?” Dipole asked. “Where’s your Origin?”

“Down there,” Devcon, the mechling, pointed towards the park. “He’s dead!”

“Hole up,” Jazz crouched low, cuffing Lockdown with his strongest stasis cuffs. “Dipole comm the enforcer. Sweetspark, what happened?”

“Lockdown’s my genitor,” Devcon explained. “Origin took me and ran away. He thought Iacon would be save but he found us. He shot Origin in the park.”

“‘M so sorry, Sweetspark,” Jazz said. Smokescreen hugged Devcon as the mechlings grief swelled up in him. Devcon clung to him and cried.

Ironhide came, shooing the enforcers away to deal with the murder scene and taking custody of the bounty hunter, very literally Iacon’s most wanted. Jazz and Smokescreen stayed with Devcon until SPS came to take him away. If he had family safe to sent him to, they would find them. If not, they would find him a foster family. His life had changed forever, Jazz hoped whoever took charge of him, they would be prepared to help him make his way through it. It was joors before they were done with the enforcers and SPS. Jazz held Smokescreen’s servo tight as they made their way back to base. Though he had commed Ratchet to explain to Prowl what was up, some of it, Jazz was going to have to explain himself.

“Ya can feel what other mecha are feelin’, can’t ya Smokey?” Jazz asked.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen replied.

“It’s rough sometimes, ain’t it?” Jazz asked.

“Mhm,” Smokescreen said. “It’s not normal, is it?”

“It ain’t,” Jazz said. “But it don’t mean anything’s wrong wit ya. Means yer and empath. I am too. I’ll teach ya how to shield when it’s too much.”

“Oh!” Smokescreen exclaimed. “You feel guilty.”

“Ya, Mechlin’,” Jazz chuckled. “It gave me a bit o’ a rough time. I don’t want that for ya, Sweetspark.”

“Is that why you were sick?” Smokescreen asked.

“It was part of it,” Jazz told him. “I didn’t know how to shield. I do now, once I teach ya, ya’ll be safe from dealin’ wit what I did.”

“Okay.”

Jazz looked straight ahead. Prowl was not going to take this well.

[diaswarriorcats]

[my-pjo-stuff]

letting my history nerd show with this one

[wispurring-moss]

anyways—

mods r asleep quick post teeny huskerdust doodle— 👌✨

[cutetanuki-chan]

do you have any alecto/anastasia hcs?

I think my biggest hc is that Anastasia wanted to be present at laying Alecto down in the tomb, but something went not as planned, cause she helped design it and it's her house, where is she

and not quite a hc but I want Alecto snatch some of Anastasia's bones before leaving the tomb

but tbh the moment I got the ask my mind completely blanked out on everything I was thinking about them, I'll add more to this post if I remember some of it

but thank you for asking!

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

One of my fave trashy TV B-movies of all time is Broken Vows (1987), in which Tommy Lee Jones plays a washed up alcoholic Catholic priest who hates his life…

[picckl]

i am not going to tag my arcane art as league of legends. I am not drawing league of legends fanart

[mikaelsrose]

you were meant to be our salvation and we were meant to be yours

[thoughtfulchaos773]

I got all the attention...

Focus=Undivded attention for Sydney.

And it's a secret vow between these two.

Because she reminds him in private, whispering even before Natalie walks towards the room, I don't want to share it.

Remember, Carmy tells her I understand. Twice.

The viewers- we're reminded under the table— that focusing on the restaurant equals undivided attention for Sydney.

A vow they keep between them. It's under the table.

Including not leaving her alone.

Carmy understands the truth about Sydney's raising: Even though she gets all the attention, which is a good thing. She's alone, and he promises to be here.

I'm supposed to feel normal about this.

[sprout-battlecats]

graystripe

[jombenz]

"God knows I tried, but broken, I bow to the beast inside Covered my tracks, but couldn't swallow my pride" - Porcelain, Motionless in White

forever my favourite character, here's a finished version of the wip

[anon-e-miss]

Broken Vows - 8

“‘M gonna go look at habs for ya when ya have a rest,” Jazz told Prowl. He avoided the glyph nap which seemed a little mocking to him. As his frame continued to integrate the delicate repairs and with a fragile self-respair systems, Prowl ran out of energy quickly and recharged off and on throughout the mega-cycle.

“Perhaps you might like to take Smokescreen with you?” Prowl offered. “He would benefit from fresh air.”

“Are ya sure?” Jazz asked.

“I trust you,” Prowl said.

“What about you and Blue?” Smokescreen asked.

“We need more rest than you, Bravespark,” Prowl told him. “I know it is not terribly fun for you when we recharge. There is a fine playground in the park your progenitor and I used to walk in.”

“I’d love to,” Jazz said. “What do ya say, Smokey?”

“Okay!”

“I’ll give ya a list o’ favourites,” Jazz offered Prowl. Prowl just shook his helm.

“I trust you and Smokescreen to select it,” he said. “You know how little I concerned myself with my habsuite.”

“A’ight,” Jazz said. “We’ll do our best.”

Smokescreen was nervous, Jazz knew. His genitor was nervous too. Jazz held Smokescreen’s servo in a firm grip as they walked down the hall and made their way to the tram that would drop them off at the metro. It was faster to drive, of course but Jazz was too nervous to drive Smokescreen and the mechling was far too young to drive on his own. Smokescreen would not have wheels of his own until he was a youngling. Sooner or later, Jazz would give him a ride somewhere but Smokescreen had already gotten lost once on his watch and he was not going to risk getting in a crash with him on their first trip off base. The media were all gone, having been chased off by the Primal Vanguard after Prime had given his speech. That did not mean there might not be opportunists who would sneak a quick shot but Jazz had a plan for that.

“I want ya to wear this,” Jazz told Smokescreen as he magnetized a small device to the collar of his armour.

“What’s it for?” Smokescreen asked.

“If anyone tries to take a picture o’ ya, this’ll scramble it,” Jazz told him. “I know yer ori don’t want yer face all o’er the news.”

“It was the same in Praxus,” Smokescreen said. “He didn’t want me in portraits. He didn’t want Blue either but he wasn’t allowed to say no.”

“‘M sorry yer Ori had to make that choice,” Jazz told him. “I’m sorry I bout’m in that spot.”

“Origin loves you,” Smokescreen said. “And it makes him sad. It always made him sad.”

“He’s got good reason, Sweetspark,” Jazz told him. “I broke his spark. I did it on purpose.”

“You were sick,” Smokescreen defended him and Jazz ruffled his helm. After everything Jazz had said and done, Prowl had excused him to their creation. It was a kindness Jazz did not think he deserved.

“Don’t make the damage any easier to live with, Bitlet,” he said.

“Hmm,” Smokescreen took a seat in the window and Jazz sat next to him. “You feel bad about it.”

“Sure do,” Jazz told him. “I didn’t know I’d kindled ya wit Prowl until I saw yer designation next to his on the casualties list. Even when I was better, I was too scared to face your Ori, even the memories o‘m so I didn’t read his letters, ‘n I lied to myself ‘bout how bad I’d behaved. I didn’t want to remember how bad I’d been. When I saw yer designation I had to face what a monster I’d been. I didn’t think I deserved to mourn ya, either o’ ya. But I needed to. I still carry the ultrasound photos he sent me.”

“Really?” Smokescreen asked. Jazz showed him the ultrasound. “I was just a blob.”

“We all start out that way.”

Jazz knew Smokescreen hoped his procreators would get back together and raise him and his brother together. It was something Jazz was a bit too scared to hope for himself. He loved Prowl dearly. With all the clarity in the world now, Jazz did not shy from this truth. The reality was, however he had hurt Prowl terribly and he had driven him away, laying the groundwork for the direction the Praxian’s life had taken. Every awful thing that had happened after could be placed at Jazz’s peds. At some point, if Prowl ever wanted to hear it, Jazz would like to apologize probably, to make sure he knew that Jazz took responsibility, that he had no excuses for everything he had said and done. He could not ask for a chance to be better for Prowl, for Smokescreen and for Bluestreak. Jazz would have to be better and to let the chips fall however they might.

“I know Origin’s originator and grandcreators were afts,” Smokescreen said. “What about yours? Origin never told me about them.”

“That’s ‘cause I never told’m,” Jazz explained. “My genitors were split-spark twins. They died in a riot in Polyhex ‘n losin’em broke my Ori ’n made ‘m go mad... sorta like I did, I guess. Me ‘n my brother, my twin split up... blamin’ different mecha for what happened. I know they’re alive but that’s all I know.”

“You got better,” Smokescreen said. “I bet he will too.”

Counterpunch had sent Jazz another of his rants that light-cycle. As always, it made no sense. There was no threat to Jazz in particular or the Autobots in general. It was just random glyphs, not even in sentences but almost just splattered across the page. Because Counterpunch did not know he had creations, because Punch had always considered his family to be his and not his alter’s, that he even had the code to the commlink Jazz had only ever shared with his family was still a bit unnerving. Talk of a mechanical spark and grinding gears, even when Jazz read it together with the other notes he had received lately, he found no meaning in it. He wondered if Ricochet got notes like these. His twin would never tell him. Ricochet had blamed Sentinel Prime for the deaths of their progenitors and the madness of their originator, in hindsight Jazz understood why. Ricochet did not forgive Jazz lending is allegiance to that prime as Jazz had blamed terrorists who had worn the Decepticon brand. Whether Ricochet called himself a Decepticon or freelanced, as had been the family business, Jazz did not know. He had not spoken to his twin in millenia and had not laid optics on him for even longer.

“This is our stop,” Jazz took Smokescreen servo and led him down the escalator and out onto the street.

It was just around the corner from Mirror’s, nearer than even Prowl’s old hab and been and a short walk to the park. There were other habsuite on his list to look at but if this one was even close to as good as the ad had suggested, he thought it would be perfect. Smokescreen, of course, would be the one to cast the deciding vote. The property manager shook Smokescreen’s servo after he shook Jazz’s and that was a point in his favour. There were lots of families in the building, or so said the manager and that was a point for the building. No one had lived in the habsuite for a while so it was a completely blank slate. Imagining how it might be set up was not a problem to Jazz. He laughed as Smokescreen ran about, checking every room. The mechling definitely needed sometime in the park to release some energy.

“This room for Origin, because it has a pretty view,” Smokescreen pulled Jazz along for a tour. “This room’s for Blue because its right next door. This rooms for me and this rooms for my grandori and uncle when they come to visit.”

“He’s so sweet,” the property manager said. “And so well behaved.”

“His Ori gets all the credit,” Jazz replied.

“Origin’s going to love it,” Smokescreen declared as they left, key card stored in Jazz’s subspace. As Jazz was an officer in the Autobot Corp, the property manager was quick to sign the habsuite over to Jazz, even having never met the principle tenant. Security was good, it would be better when Jazz added encryptions to the lock. Smokescreen had picked a good room for Prowl, it had a few of the park. He would love it.

“He’ll love that ya picked it for’m,” Jazz said. “How ‘bout we go to the park now ‘n ya can run ‘round like a wild mechanimal?”

“Okay!”

“And who is this?” Jazz jumped. The voice was husky. He knew without looking that it belonged to a wispy femme about his originator’s age.

“Dipole!” Jazz exclaimed. He had met her when she had returned from burying her progenitor. The funds that had seen her get there had been stolen and Prowl had hunted the thief down and returned them too her.

“I’m Smokescreen, Ms Dipole!”

“You look just like your Origin, doin’t you?” Dipole said. “Mirror mentioned you stopped by, to pick up a peace offering. Than she saw the news and she’s been as close to a wreck as I’ve ever seen her.”

“Mirror makes the yummy rust sticks, right?” Smokescreen asked.

“That’s right,” the femme replied.

“Prowl’s got some more healin’ to do but he’ll visit soon,” Jazz promised.

“Mirror always thought of Prowl as something of an adoptive grandcreation,” Dipole said. “What with him being all but orphaned.”

“Can we say hi?” Smokescreen asked.

“Uh...” Jazz thought on it. “I don’t want to take the wind outta yer Ori’s sails, Bravespark.”

“Eh?”

“I thought yer Ori outta be the one to introduce ya to Mirror,” Jazz said.

“He won’t mind,” Smokescreen said. “Especially if we bring more rust sticks. And... if Ms Mirror is worried about Origin, she’ll feel better and Origin’ll feel better knowing she’s not worrying anymore.”

“He is very clever,” Dipole said.

“All credit goes to his Ori,” Jazz replied. “Okay, we’ll say hi to Mirror.”

“They were really buried for vorns?” Dipole asked, softly as they headed to the bakery.

“Yeah,” Jazz replied.

“Mirror wouldn’t look at the casualty list,” Dipole explained. “After he said goodbye, she always figured he’d come back. She said he belonged here and not in Praxus but... well he never came back and then Praxus was gone. She didn’t want to know because if she didn’t know than she could imagine he was well, wherever he was.”

“I promise he’s okay now,” Jazz said. “He thought Smokey outta get out ‘n get some exercise while ‘m ‘n the bitty rest more.”

“It’ll be good to see him,” Dipole said. “He was always one of Mirror’s favourites.”

[diaswarriorcats]

[pareidolla]

man putting together all the stubbroken stuff is my canon is going to be so embarrassing. like yes, they're oil and water and loathe being around eachother most of the time. yes, they share the same bed and read and drink and bathe together anyway. yes, they would openly admit they find the other attractive if they weren't such a freak. bitter married couple without a wedding ring. worst roommates in the entire household

[rosias-warriors-project]

Alderheart my beloved is here!!! FINALLY my first MC on this blog! He's such a cutie patootie, and I'm in love with how the design turned out!

9/1433 (as of August 23rd 2024)

(Extra tags for blog search that I couldn't include because of the limit: #The Place of No Stars #A Light in the Mist #The Apprentice's Quest #Thunder and Shadow #Shattered Sky #Darkest Night #River of Fire #The Raging Storm #Clanless)