#then the dynamic when lapis phos and prowl would meet is a lot like mesotulas/ tarantulas

[ikkosu]

FRAGMENTED

a short drabble with an idea that stemmed from my earlier ramble 😭😭 idk I just really wanted to write it out

"Interesting. You really are organized." Her voice— their voice, he's not even sure, eased through his audial processors, warm like the rays of sunlight blotching through water, a crystal-like cadence, yet sharp enough much as frolicking waves. He's pistoned like a sea wall trying to deflect it. With every effort, though — he's cracking at the seams.

"It's a shame, really. You'd fare better if your thoughts are so. Perhaps, a neat bundle would do. You're the type to file, yes? To be in control of what your knowledge purveys?”

With a vent, he whirled around, no longer having the patience to withstand their remarks. His door wings pike up to regard the new 'occurrences' of the recent events. That is, the porcelain, humanoid figure teetering by his doorway who stood, much like a graceful deer with hands primly folded behind their back. Engraved on their face is a twinkling smile with eyes, that bore the color of their name, that’s a creased moon, feigning luminence— the truth of darkness holding up all the same. 

Prowl grimaced.

This was all but Rodimus's insistence they aid' these native lifeforms, gems Perceptor had clarified, a place to accomodate them, since they were so fragile to be left alone at the hands of their adversaries, the 'lunarians' dwindling the numbers of their species so. A single touch — if not thoughtful — would break fracture them to pieces.

He was the first to meet then — aside from the Lost Light crew. After all, he was the 'immigration officer' , a position Optimus concocted on a whim to ensure their troubled nature, maintaining all the paperwork needed for a legal entrance into Cybertron.

Many were genial. Some, naive. Yet ,from a fragmented standpoint, one mind to another — he knew they were all deceiving themselves. Look what millions of years to a person can do — years where death isn’t much prevalent, and life, as it simmers on, deteriorates the mind lest age wouldn’t do it itself.

"You're Lapis. The librarian." He said plainly, though, not kindly. "I take it you know much of our species already, despite the nature of it so considered a taboo." His voice lowered. "You know we were coming for you."

The eyebrows eased upwards, twinkling eyes no longer a half moon. "I'd settle for Euclase's warning,” They mused, “but you're too independent to heed concerns from someone, much less, a lesser being than your kind."

He bristles but a crinkle of his nose is what he’s shown. “What would you know?”

"Not much. An opinion." They said, gloved hands, gun metal grey, tossed the hair behind their back that crackled like a wind chimes. "Is what I want. Nothing more. Nothing less. Or, perhaps, an opinion of my own too. If you're willing to concede, that is…"

Lapis pressed a finger to their temple — it fragmented at the touch of her fingertips. The cobweb of navy blue glinted. “If it assures you, officer — I am not all a threat. I’m quite fragile.”

He snorts. “Is that some kind of threat before you threaten me? Don’t make me laugh.”

He’s been warned not to interact with the gem. Rung's advice, specifically.  Said something about ‘blah, blah, blah’ he’s not bothered enough to listen.Though, he’s not sure if the desire to do so outweighs his concern. After all, he’s a strategic officer. He collects information.

And an undisclosed matter would plague him restless.

“Perhaps. Perhaps, not.”

Two can play at the game.