#idestprimum

[risingxsparks]

Starter for @idestprimum

The flash of the explosion nearly disconnected her optics.

When her systems were able to feed the visuals into her processor for her to recognize her surroundings, Elita was certain she was dead. There was darkness, star-like bright dots at the corners of her eyes that disappeared when she tried to focus on them, and no gravity. Her body floated, spinning and twisting in the air and upper limbs flailed for something to hold onto, only for her servos to close around the empty air.

Then, suddenly, she was yanked downwards.

Her back hit the ground with a thud, metal against metal echoing in the otherwise empty landscape. She landed on her face– recognized the surface: Cybertron.

But where was the ground bridge? Where were her friends? Where were the decepticons? Had the bridge's explosion swallowed her and simply spit her out on another corner of the planet? She was no expert, but she was almost certain that wasn't how bridges were supposed to work.

The information her HUD was showing her felt... off. Elita knows Cybertron like the back of her servo, and yet every map her processor has generated in the past millennia is being updated as radars pick up information from beyond what her eyes can see. Apparently, she's at the outskirts of Iacon. But Iacon had been destroyed.

She walked until she reached a cliffside and sure enough, there it was. Iacon. It definitely had seen better days, but while the Iacon she remembers had been reduced to abandoned ruins, there was electricity and LIFE in this one from what she could see from afar.

Is this the Allspark? Is she dreaming?

She had to be.

Her HUD began picking up a signal that came from another mech, one she has not felt in far too long.

It's a trap, Elita told herself. Ignore it, it's a trap.

"...Optimus?"

[silenceofthewave]

@idestprimum said "Visibly sweating..."

Oh! And the Homewrecker has the audacity to speak to Betrayee! Oh how amusing this night has turned out to be!

Get over here.

[promisedloyalty]

{ @idestprimum }

We've talked about this, old friend. Holding in your feelings? It's unhealthy!

Grrrrumble rumble rumble.

"Either I do something and everyone yells at me, or I do nothing and everyone yells at me. At least staying quiet is less embarrassing."

[risingxsparks]

@idestprimum sent:

"You're mine. Only mine" to elita, from Tfone shattered glass prime :eyes emoji:

JEALOUS, FIERCLY PROTECTIVE & TERRITORIAL PROMPTS

Elita has been around long enough to notice some things about him.

She's certain that anyone from her own reality, anyone who got to know their version of Optimus, would have taken great offense in his name if she even dared imply that him and this other Optimus were anything alike. But she had known Optimus better than most– more intimately than most. This one had a lot of things in common with him, like the fact he couldn't stay away from her for long.

He was always around. At first, Elita thought it was because he didn't trust her. Soon enough it became clear that, like her Optimus, he simply sought company and couldn't handle being alone— even when this one went out of his way to try and come off as scary, there was a loneliness and need for validation deep inside him that Elita recognized, multiplied tenfold.

"You're mine. Only mine."

Her reality's Optimus hadn't been this vocal about his jealousy, but there had been MOMENTS when she'd noticed him poutier than usual. This one wasn't afraid to show that he was jealous– though part of Elita wondered if he realized just how childishly jealous he sounded.

Possessive, too.

Elita held his gaze, ignoring the angry fire that burned within his optics. It was not directed at her, but at some imaginary 'adversary' he'd convinced himself that he had. All she had done was spar against some of his soldiers, wanting to rest if they were anything like her reality's. He'd been watching and, apparently, he had not liked what he saw.

She leaned closer, brow ridges arching. "Who do you think you're talking to?" her voice was a mere whisper, reserved for only his audials, as if someone could have walked in and eavesdropped. "You think you're so scary, but we both know the truth."

Volatile mutts have to be kept on a tight, tight leash.

Her fingers hooked onto his chest plate, yanking him down until he was as close to eye level as they could get.

"You don't have to compete for my attention." a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. "They are just some random mechs, you are MINE."

[promisedloyalty]

"Looking for company, old friend?" (@idestprimum ES Optimus) He'll happily sit by the fire with you and share a drink.

{ @idestprimum // Earthspark }

Megatron huffs a sound almost like a laugh, leaning back to rest his back against the boulder he'd dragged over near the pit. "There you are. I was starting to worry you'd gotten lost and wandered over the border again-- what's that one called, by the way. Cantada?"

Ah, well. Best get himself up on his pedes and see to Optimus' tea before the Prime accidentally knocked the tripod over, or something...

"Fair warning, we might get swarmed by the weans in a bit, if you didn't see them off to recharge. No doubt you'll have been followed," he teases.

[promisedloyalty]

 “ look at me. “  (idestprimum//es op. had to do it to em and I regret nothing B3 )

{ @idestprimum }

So Bumblebee tattled on him, after all.

Megatron was already halfway up off the exam table when Optimus reaches out and catches his chin, effectively trapping him in place with legs swung over the side and fingers curled ‘round the edge of the berth.

He is no stranger to the Prime’s casual brushes, the brief pats or quick clasps. But this? Practically ordered to give him his attention? Megatron’s systems throw themselves into delirium, half clamoring to go belly-up and obey while the other half chafes at being treated like some sort of reckless new recruit.

And yet he cannot bear to try and pull himself free from a hold that was only slightly more firm than a caress.

The tiltrotor’s vocoder clicks roughly before he manages to marshal it into cooperating, optics dimming and dilating as he blinks slowly at his commander. “…I see you, Optimus. You ask for what you already have.”

[risingxsparks]

Stupid, so stupid.

After so many years of war, after watching friends and foes alike die because of mistakes that in any other situation would have been harmless moments of inaction, Elita should know better than to freeze. But she did, and now she will pay the consequences.

Blue optics stare up at a face that feels familiar and strange at the same time. She has seen Optimus angry before, but not at her— never at her. This isn't Optimus. No matter how hard she tries to convince herself, her spark doesn't listen to what her processor knows to be a fact. Where is the axe? She should be feeling around for it. Instead, her servos grip the hand that he's wrapped around his neck and she tries with all her might not to think about it being Optimus' hand —about how long it's been since she held his hand— as she's trying to pry his fingers off.

Optic ridges furrow and —much to her pride's detriment— even that doesn't manage to rid her of the pathetically sad look she's certain she has plastered on her face. She speaks through the obstruction of his griip around her throat.

"A decepticon?" she forces the words out. "I am not- not a 'Con." Making you wear that face, those words make no sense. "I am Elita One," she grunts. "Member of- of the autobot high command."

This was no mere scout, Optimus realized that much. They were far stronger, more cunning, and capable. He liked that, actually. They'd put up more of a fight. The Prime was tired of dealing with Megatron's weaklings.

Optimus snarls, his own battle axe igniting as he races forward, swinging and deadly swipes of his weapon making contact with this stranger's as he advances, not expecting the swipe. That was his fault, given he had been in such a rage, but no matter.

The feral Prime crashes to the ground, growling lowly behind his battle mask as blood-red hues burn up at her-

Her.

His entire being seizes for a moment, the anger and hatred in is spark is quelled just long enough for a name to roll across the frenzied thoughts of his processor.

She falters, and Optimus takes this as his opportunity to gain the advantage.

The Prime is up, pouncing on her before she could regain her composure, purple plates crashing into fuscia as the Prime slams her to the ground, and its servo encroaches itself tightly around her neck.

"I would ask the same of you, imposter." He snarls, the low deep baritone laced with poison.

How dare he. He'll kill him, Optimus swears on the Allspark that he'll KILL him--

Wait, what did she say?

Optimus narrows his optics, but his hold does not relent.

"What the frag are you talking about?" He snarls, voice laced with poison as the blood-red hues burn down at her. If they could melt plating, no doubt there would be a hole in 'her' chest.

"You are a Decepticon scout, are you not?" His grip tightens, and the Prime tries to ignore the tightening of his spark behind his chest.

"Megatron sent you here to lure me out. A cruel move even for him, making you wear that face."

[risingxsparks]

Since the beginning of the war, and at times even before, Elita had clashed against many mecha. Plenty of them bigger than her.

The yelling and the sound of his transformation from alt mode back to natural mode gave this one away, gave her time to brace herself for impact– which she did. Her energy axe buzzed to life as she fixed her stance. And yet, it still nearly knocked her off her feet when they clashed. Elita moves on autopilot, red eyes make her push aside any attempts at negotiations. Deceptions do not care to be civil or talk things out, there is no point in trying until she knocks him down.

Which she does. With great effort, but the momentum of his attack gives her just enough time to lower herself as close to the ground as she can manage, turn and slam her leg against his to sweep them from under him. The impact making her whole frame vibrate painfully.

And then she actually looks at him.

Combat mode deactivates too soon. But she cannot help him. Her servos tremble as the sharp end of her axe stops just inches away from his chest plate.

It can't be...

No, it's not Optimus. Optimus is dead.

"Who are you?!" she demands. "What kind of sick Decepticon trick is this?!"

The signal came out of nowhere.

Optimus assumed it to be some form of ridiculous trick from Megatron and his conniving rabble of Decepticons; he wouldn't put it past his old friend. That was until Ratchet confirmed it was indeed from a sentient mechanical, leading to the assumption that a scout had set off their proximity sensors instead.

What a fool Megatron was, throwing a scout out in the middle of Autobot territory. His old friend must have finally blown a circuit in that pacifistic processor of his.

That was fine, Optimus was in the mood for ripping something or someone apart.

Snarling, the Prime runs into a sprint across the field in search of the signal, the tracker beeping on his arm and HUD as he hones in. He aims instead to transform into a vehicular form, since it is faster and races across the surface, speeding quicker and quicker across the metallic landscape. The beeping quickens with each metre he crosses until finally they are in sight.

With a roaring cry, he transforms. Mixed with the speed at which he drove, accompanied by the sheer mass of his frame, Optimus launches himself at the stranger at maximum speed and with a very clear intention to kill.