[Guidance. It was one thing that seemed to come so naturally to Primes. They offered their knowledge, which was passed down by so many before them, and expected nothing but for them to use that knowledge int eh way it was intended. Many people had been touched by it in one way or another, from Arcee to even those of the human race. From those of the Decepticon footsoldiers to the deaf ears of Unicron.
But alas, the sun had risen and fallen over the time of the Primes. And it had ended with Optimus, when he had merged with Primus himself in Cybertron's very core. That knowledge had returned to it's source, and with it, any and all who had or would have carried it.
It was left for the people to decide, instead of him. A commander. But perhaps...not all was lost.
Among the millions of new sparks that erupted out of the Well of Allsparks, one seemed to hesitate. One that saw all of his past comrades looking up at him...them. It felt weightless, free from all the burden the Matrix had put on him at such a dire time. Before he could find a body to rejoin his brothers, perhaps in secret, he heard something.
A soft call of his name.
Can you hear me Optimus? Orion?
...Please...
That voice was all too familiar to him. Even without a processor, he could recognize it within milliseconds. And as the sparks rushed out across the sky, so did he, leaving the Autobots behind. And thus...made a beeline for the source of the voice.
Call it instinct, but perhaps it was something more. A need beyond the physical.
It led him to an old Gladitorial arena. And while the spark may not recognize that, being still a 'newborn' in some cases, it knows the source of the voice is here. The one who so desperately called out to him. And there, in the center of the arena, sat the fallen warrior. Kneeling where he once reigned, like a fallen King.
The spark erratically flies over his head, hovering there a moment, as if waiting to catch Megatron's attention.
no subject
But alas, the sun had risen and fallen over the time of the Primes. And it had ended with Optimus, when he had merged with Primus himself in Cybertron's very core. That knowledge had returned to it's source, and with it, any and all who had or would have carried it.
It was left for the people to decide, instead of him. A commander. But perhaps...not all was lost.
Among the millions of new sparks that erupted out of the Well of Allsparks, one seemed to hesitate. One that saw all of his past comrades looking up at him...them. It felt weightless, free from all the burden the Matrix had put on him at such a dire time. Before he could find a body to rejoin his brothers, perhaps in secret, he heard something.
A soft call of his name.
Can you hear me Optimus? Orion?
...Please...
That voice was all too familiar to him. Even without a processor, he could recognize it within milliseconds. And as the sparks rushed out across the sky, so did he, leaving the Autobots behind. And thus...made a beeline for the source of the voice.
Call it instinct, but perhaps it was something more. A need beyond the physical.
It led him to an old Gladitorial arena. And while the spark may not recognize that, being still a 'newborn' in some cases, it knows the source of the voice is here. The one who so desperately called out to him. And there, in the center of the arena, sat the fallen warrior. Kneeling where he once reigned, like a fallen King.
The spark erratically flies over his head, hovering there a moment, as if waiting to catch Megatron's attention.
It's been quite the journey, old friend.]