#Once A Self Insert

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

The Way The Spark Changes

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the waters of the ocean were calm and gentle. Morningstar watched as the sun slowly rose over the waves, her head full of thoughts she had not lingered on before. Her glossy black body shined in the light, from her flat elevated peds, to her dragon headed chasses, to her blue optics, which held a far away look to them. Her mouth, usually in a smile in some way, shape, or form, is pursed, contemplative, verging on a frown. One hand was against the rock she sat on, holding her upper half up, while the other was slowly playing with the Decepticon insignia on her chest, a digit dragging against the lines.

The soft crashing of the waves and her peaceful form was hiding a frenzied and rather panicked stream of thoughts in her mind. Another battle had been lost. More warriors had been injured. More infighting, more accusations, more distrust and hatred. The mech she loved, who she fought for, is becoming more and more unhinged, coming up with even more dangerous plans, plans that involve sacrificing their own men, plans that will endanger not only themselves, but everything and one.

Morningstar closed her optics, a sigh escaping her metallic lips. Her reason for being with the Decepticons was fading from her. The once love she held with great reverence, was now turning to irritation. Looking at him no longer sent her spark into a flurry of signals to be flushed and experience happiness. It did still send a signal or two to smile fondly and experience for a moment of joy, but it now sent more anxiety and frustration through her. She still held some positivity for him, but... the original spark of something that pulled her aside was gone. The thing that had made her give up her morals and her beliefs, the thing that made her join the Decepticons instead of the Autobots with her sister, had been depleted.

It hurt. It hurt that she gave up helping people, saving lives, and building solid connections with beings who wished to better the universe for a mech that didn't give her a second glance. It hurt that the love she had was now gone. It hurt that the warmth that she once got from his attention and his words were now dulled and droning. It hurt that she no longer wanted to fight for her emotions, no longer wanted to do what she could to make him happy. It hurt that her reason for remaining was dwindling.

She did make friendships with other Decepticons, yes. Soundwave was quiet, observing. The normally loud femme loved being around him in silence, as the silence around Soundwave did not feel attacking and cold like when she was alone. His quiet was filled with comfort, acceptance. She did well with Thundercracker, both bonding over the reservations about being a Decepticon. Thundercracker stayed because of his fear of Megatron and his love of his trine mates, Morningstar stayed for her fierce love of Megatron, and her fear of change.

That is why she sat on the beach now, contemplating her life. She had to decide what she had to do. Did she remain with those she had fought along side for over 4 million years, despite the reason for staying was gone and her spark hurt like it was being mauled by the Pet? She could perhaps learn to love him again, learn to fight with her whole being once more. She had been approached by Thundercracker, who was worried about the increasing amount of scars on her armor. Before, nothing could touch her. Now, it was becoming increasingly hard to motivate herself to move out of the way of attacks.

Perhaps she could join the Autobots. A smile threatened the Dragon's features, the thought of her sister tearing up with pride and relief of her youngest sibling coming home to the Ark. Grace would collapse with joy if she walked in, searching for forgiveness and redemption. The Autobots would bawk and be suspicious of her, of course, seeing as for a good chunk of time she gave her everything for the Decepticon cause, or at least, for the one who ran the cause. She would offer information and future plans, give her all to redeem herself in the eyes of the Autobots, her sisters, her people, and herself. Then again, could she face those she called her comrades and her trinemates in battle? Could she look at them, watching as they tried to kill her with pain in their expressions and questions in their optics?

The DJD would hunt her down for her treason, certainly. Her name would more than likely shoot to the top of The List, a demand of her once beloved leader once he found out. Vos will question her in his strange tongue, his usually high pitched babble taking a softer tone. Kaon ordering the Pet to attack her with a shaky breath, but the Pet limping over to her, looking at her with questioning eyes. Tesarus would shift side to side, the maul pit in his chest whirring. Helix would demand answers, asking why betray them. Why betray her brothers, her fellow soldiers, her mates? In the end, Tarn himself would attempt to do the deed, talking normally, trying to go softer to lull her spark to death. She was resistant to his attack, her spark only knowing the speed of music and a select few voices.

Would her leader demand to do the final blow?

Then again, she could flee the war. She could grab a ship, stockpile energon, and just go. Leave the world of Earth and find a new one. She could find somewhere that they didn't know her name, didn't know the Cybertronian war, didn't know about Autobots and Decepticons, and maybe make a new life. Work at her redemption by being a good friend, a good neighbor. Save a few lives she knew nothing about, work to cure diseases, overthrow evil dictators... Become someone that the humans call a hero. Perhaps... She could go home.

Home made her catch her breath. Destronia had been so far from her mind for so long, it was almost like a fantasy to think about now. She could go home. Home, to her castle, to her throne room. Home, where everyone would welcome her with open arms, smile and scold her for leaving them so suddenly. Home, with her fellow Destronians, peace in the air, love everywhere. Home, with her responsibilities and the insufferable pressure to be the goddess they all need you to be.

If she went home, she would have to take the throne once more. She would don her crown, take her place at the center of the 4 chairs, and become who she fled from when she snuck aboard her sister's ship headed for Cybertron. She would have to become Judge, Jury, Executioner and Reaper, seeing as all her siblings had long left the thrones. Dest, Tron, and Nia were more than likely still in charge, the avatars that Morningstar created to replace the sisters as they went on their journeys. Kylia was more than likely hunting down dangerous prey and omnicidal maniacs across the cosmos, Graceon was the gentle Autobot medic along side her sweetspark Ratchet, Eveningmoon was on her own self-discovery mission, trying to find out who she was besides the darkness of the form herself and her twin Morningstar once were combined as... Now Morningstar was questioning her purpose in life. She was the being of emotion, of courage, of life.

Sounds of laughter nearby brought Morningstar out of her musings slightly, before she semi-focused on the ocean once more. What was she to do with her life? All the Ideas she thought of had valid pros and cons, but it came back to that all consuming fear of hers. Metathesiophobia, after a moment of looking it up. The fear of change. Was she strong enough to make a new life or fight for the one she had now? Was she truly out of love for the one she gave up her everything for? Her mind raced with questions and thoughts, playing out scenarios and trying to see what would be the best bet for her. The moments of her life swirling around her, voices trying to work with her, yelling at her, trying to tell her the path she should or shouldn't take...

~:Morningstar, report:~

A sigh of defeat escaped her, before she pressed the com-link on her right upper jaw line, underneath her audio sensors.

"Morningstar reporting."

~:Megatron commands that all Decepticons return to base:~

"Order acknowledged. I will return to base." She responded, getting up from her seat on the giant rock formation. She released the comm-link, allowing the responses to be done.

~:Confirmation received:~

The voice went silent, and yet another sigh escaped her. She chuckled mirthlessly, holding her face in her hand. The tears she had not realized that had been falling were making themselves known now, the gentle wetness lightly coating her digits on her face. The pain in her spark grew, it felt like a void was sucking in everything, emptiness consuming her. She couldn't handle to look at him again. She couldn't stand it now, yet she had to. She had to be strong. She had to be Morningstar.

She wiped away the oily tears, taking a breath as she floated into the air. She spread her wings, once she was high enough, before allowing herself to fall, her wings catching the wind before beginning to glide. With minimal effort on her anti-gravity engines, she flew parallel from the plane of water beneath her, her hand grazing the surface. Her own reflection looked at her, before looking forward, seeing the dark-purple tower rise from the sea. Her destination. Her prison. Her dwelling.

Her tomb, if she played her cards wrong.