#if I had to go further I’d add the metal shading I did for shockwave and soundwave on the other post

[iridescent-serpent]

This is for @yknow-fuck mostly bc they infected me with great takes on dorito shaped starscream that is the bayverse version

Enjoy your slightly easier to visually identify boy (he is slightly more chicken than usual)

[miyasukeietada]

Lineage

(Many thanks to @ninth-threnody​ for giving me use of Sarangerel, and also to @attritionofrestraint for Ezen and also for cowriting the scene this is adapted from.)

(CN: Blood, wounding)

If this was death, it wasn’t at all like she’d imagined it; it was neither cold nor alien, but rather warm and effervescent, positively electric with potential. The blood at her front anointed her fragile body as the hunter tried but could not manage to pull his weapon from where it remained buried in her soft belly. His keen eyes snapped to where the end of his blade ought to have been protruding on her back side, and yet there was nothing there. A new path unfolded before him in an instant, the motions intuitive in light of this new information. He changed course, swallowing his horror, and chose instead to plunge the blade further in, up to the guard until he heard the sharp pull of her inhale in response. The metallic tang of her pure essence had the wicked beasts around them licking their jaws with anticipation, and yet none moved to feast, captivated by the unfolding scene.

Her hands fumbled out and covered the hunter’s broad grip, shuddering nauseously as her lips animated wordlessly of their own accord, her head rolling forward limply. They remained locked in their deathly embrace, not one figure moving to so much as breathe until all at once an eruption ricocheted outward from her epicenter, sending a shockwave of blinding light in a bubble around them that briefly illuminated the world in all manners of white in the blink of an eye. The acrid stench of burning pitch momentarily overwhelmed the senses as the deafening thunder echoed away as quickly as it had sounded.

When the afterburn of the sudden flash faded in the hunter’s eyes, what was left around him was a ring of familiar, dark-scaled faces looking on, each with their own telling expression. Some inspected their restored limbs or gazed on at each other in wonder, and some stared silently and stoically at the duo in the center of their ring without a hint at their thoughts. The picture came together when his sight panned immediately to his right and spotted one face in particular that held an expectant smile that stood out among the sober, weathered faces, her blue limbal rings burning bright. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Sarangerel drawled, tipping her head to look him over. “You didn’t really think we’d leave the last Khotgor hunter without a token of love, did you?”

Before he could answer, the priestess pushed his hands and eased backward off the blade with renewed life, leaving its deadly edge smoothly coated in a brilliant shade of red. The gruesome veneer breaks apart into thin webs, dances along its well-honed edge with a tremble that threatens to fall into the river, and all at once soaks into the metal without a trace. With detached intuition, Miya laid hands over her own impalement, a blank stare aimed at something beyond all present, and when they moved again the stain and wound alike were as though they’d never been.

“Take it and don't disappoint us. Blood like that isn’t exactly easy to come by around here, you know." Laughter like a broken piano chord echoed impossibly in the expansive space. “We’ve been waiting for ages. Some of us more literally than others, though I wouldn’t mention it too loudly...some of us are a bit sensitive,” she confided darkly with a conspiratorial smile.

The hunter was on edge in spite of, or perhaps precisely for the crowd of familiar faces. The discordant laugh sends a shiver down his spine as an unwelcome reminder of exactly where and what they’re in the midst of. His mouth pulls into a dire frown.  "You're all lost here...?"

"Oh, not all of us. A few just got unlucky, and...well...you know what happened to me. I think we're missing a few generations, the luckier ones..." She gazed over her nails as though they were meeting in the middle of the markets or sharing news over coffee. "Come to think of it, I don't think I'd exactly call this 'lost', either. Let's give it a more romantic title and call it something more exciting like fate in light of this little spectacle. I’d hate to think all of this was just groping in the dark."

A barking cough interrupted the conversation and all eyes turned to the priestess. Ezen rushed to her side and for a moment it seems as though she might vomit as she bows her head and presses her hands to her chest. Before any can intervene, something tumbles from her mouth and plinks cleanly into the water. She thrusts her hand in to capture it before the current can sweep it away and holds it up to examine. A peculiar stone catches what little light can be gleaned, a faint verdant shade winking back. The little trinket emanates a comforting warmth, but no further explanation is offered. 

The distraction gives an old lover the chance to be the first to turn and disappear back into the darkness without a word to Ezen. Even now the estranged couple have nothing to say to one another, and nobody motions to draw Sakagat back. Sarangerel, on the other hand, lingered undeterred. "Chin up, brother. I hate to see you looking so distraught.” He spares her a dull glance at the familial title and she offers an apologetic smile in return. “This was for the best. You could say something like—” she cops the voice of a mystic, her slender hands rising to add theatrical effect. “—the prophecy was fulfilled...if you wanted to be dramatic."

"You can be dramatic," he responds gruffly, a sense of security returning as the attention wanes and the unnerving circle of ancestry recedes into the darkness. "You're owed that." 

The woman sidles closer, but does not make to touch either hunter or priestess. She speaks through a veil as though divulging a delicious secret. "I think our unfortunate states when we greeted you were dramatic enough, don’t you? Mm, it is positively dreadful down here. Terrible for my complexion."

A glint of emotion touches the hunter’s features, but vanishes as quickly as it had come. Before he has a chance to respond, Sara cuts him off in a low purr. "I'm proud of you, but I’m afraid I’ve got to go now. You'll know what to do with the weapon."

"I will," he concedes with a nod. "Thank you. Be well; this will all end soon. Peace is coming." 

"Oh, it’s been granted, darling," she calls over her shoulder as she makes to saunter back into the unrelenting darkness. "Good luck out there. The war is neverending."

He closes his eyes and nods once. "I'm ready for the next skirmish."

(⏣ Ko-fi ⏣)