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fandomweekly2019-07-07 10:22 pm
autobotscoutriella) wrote in fandomweekly2019-07-07 10:22 pm
Entry tags:
[#020] Sunset (Transformers Prime)
Theme Prompt: 020 - Hindsight
Title: Sunset
Fandom: Transformers Prime
Rating/Warnings: G / None
Bonus: No
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Optimus Prime will always wonder if he could have done something different.
Earth's sun sank into the west, a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold and orange blending into softer blues and purples as the light began to fade. Shadows stretched out across the desert, seeming to go on for miles and miles, cutting the landscape into stripes of dark and light tan. On the horizon, a few small shapes stirred, possibly humans sightseeing, possibly animals getting ready for a night's hunt. In the east, the first few stars had begun to appear, faint points of white light against deep blue sky.
It was beautiful.
But it was not Cybertron.
Optimus Prime watched the sunset from the roof of the newly appointed base, observing the way the light changed the color of the reddish stone around him. It was nothing like the way the light would have reflected off the metallic surfaces covering Cybertron; the light seemed softer, dimmer, here.
Footsteps announced the arrival of a member of his team. With no preamble, Ratchet dropped down onto the stone beside the Prime, looked out across the desert, and announced, "Well, it's not exactly the Towers, is it."
Optimus's mouth curved in the faintest hint of a smile. "No, my friend, it is not."
The two sat together, silently watching the sun sink behind the horizon. Ratchet finally broke the quiet, as the sky began to truly darken to deep blue. "How long do you plan to stay here?"
It was a perfectly reasonable question that lacked any satisfactory answer. Optimus took his time considering it, and could only come back to one response. "I do not know. We will stay as long as we are welcome, and as long as we may be needed."
Ratchet made a noncommittal grunt and returned to watching the horizon, leaving Optimus to consider that response further.
Only a few decades earlier, the idea of taking up residence on an alien planet would have been unthinkable. No one would have agreed to abandon Cybertron, not even if they had been told what would happen and what they would need to do to survive. Perhaps if Optimus had known then what he knew now, there would have been some way to prevent it. If they had been forewarned of Cybertron's impending death, they could have headed it off.
But he had been forewarned. Perhaps not in so many words, but he had known, before he ever considered the prospect of leading an army, that a war would destroy their beloved home. No one had known the exact details, but they had known all the same what the end result would be.
Not for the first time, Optimus wondered what he could have done to prevent it. Hindsight was far more accurate than any information one might have in the moment, and second-guessing his own decisions was pointless, but he could not help but consider what he might have done differently.
Perhaps, if he had listened more carefully to Megatronus's words and heard the hints behind them, before the words became actions.
Perhaps, if someone had contacted Megatronus before he had given up hope of any good existing on a Cybertron led by someone other than him.
Perhaps, if he had done a better job of convincing the Council that the problem was not a need for a new Prime, but a need for things to change. Perhaps if he had not allowed himself to believe that as the Prime, he could right all the wrongs.
Perhaps, if someone had seen and acted on the deep systemic problems facing Cybertron before mechs in Megatron's position had concluded that there was no solution but violence.
There were many perhaps's. If he could go back in time, knowing what he knew, then perhaps he would have chosen one, and Cybertron--and countless of its inhabitants--might live.
But considering that possibility was pointlessly painful. No one had the luxury of going back and undoing their own mistakes, no matter how much they might want to. Cybertron was dead. His own choices, and his own mistakes, had contributed to it. He could not resurrect the planet, as much as he might want to. Nor could he undo the damage of the war.
There was only moving forward, and protecting this new planet from Cybertron's fate.
Ratchet was looking at him, silently waiting for the Prime to speak. Optimus suspected that the medic knew far more of his inner thoughts than he let on, but Ratchet would never raise the issue unless Optimus spoke of it first. Some things were best left unsaid, even between old friends.
The sun dipped completely below the horizon, leaving the rose- and orange-tinted sky rapidly fading to a deep purple. In the distance, the lights of the small human town--Jasper, Agent Fowler had called it--glowed dimly against the dark sky, a few tiny pinpricks of light. No city on Cybertron had been that small since before the dawn of the Golden Age.
Optimus pulled himself out of his reverie with a slight shake of his helm. Dwelling on the past was not doing him any good, and discussing it would only entrench the what-ifs further.
"Come. We should see what modifications will need to be made to the new equipment Agent Fowler delivered."
"I can tell you that right now--lots," Ratchet grunted, rising and stretching. "That'll be a few years' work, at least. This planet's technology might as well have been salvaged from the Predacon Age--or earlier."
Optimus smiled inwardly. "I am sure your skills are equal to the task."
"Of course they are. Doesn't mean it'll be easy." Ratchet paused with one hand on the roof door. "You know, Prime, if you need to talk..."
He let the words trail off. Optimus understood them anyway.
"Of course. Should I ever have the need, I will let you know."
But not for the topic of Cybertron's fall.
Hindsight was cruel enough when kept to himself. He would not inflict it on his team.
Title: Sunset
Fandom: Transformers Prime
Rating/Warnings: G / None
Bonus: No
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Optimus Prime will always wonder if he could have done something different.
Earth's sun sank into the west, a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold and orange blending into softer blues and purples as the light began to fade. Shadows stretched out across the desert, seeming to go on for miles and miles, cutting the landscape into stripes of dark and light tan. On the horizon, a few small shapes stirred, possibly humans sightseeing, possibly animals getting ready for a night's hunt. In the east, the first few stars had begun to appear, faint points of white light against deep blue sky.
It was beautiful.
But it was not Cybertron.
Optimus Prime watched the sunset from the roof of the newly appointed base, observing the way the light changed the color of the reddish stone around him. It was nothing like the way the light would have reflected off the metallic surfaces covering Cybertron; the light seemed softer, dimmer, here.
Footsteps announced the arrival of a member of his team. With no preamble, Ratchet dropped down onto the stone beside the Prime, looked out across the desert, and announced, "Well, it's not exactly the Towers, is it."
Optimus's mouth curved in the faintest hint of a smile. "No, my friend, it is not."
The two sat together, silently watching the sun sink behind the horizon. Ratchet finally broke the quiet, as the sky began to truly darken to deep blue. "How long do you plan to stay here?"
It was a perfectly reasonable question that lacked any satisfactory answer. Optimus took his time considering it, and could only come back to one response. "I do not know. We will stay as long as we are welcome, and as long as we may be needed."
Ratchet made a noncommittal grunt and returned to watching the horizon, leaving Optimus to consider that response further.
Only a few decades earlier, the idea of taking up residence on an alien planet would have been unthinkable. No one would have agreed to abandon Cybertron, not even if they had been told what would happen and what they would need to do to survive. Perhaps if Optimus had known then what he knew now, there would have been some way to prevent it. If they had been forewarned of Cybertron's impending death, they could have headed it off.
But he had been forewarned. Perhaps not in so many words, but he had known, before he ever considered the prospect of leading an army, that a war would destroy their beloved home. No one had known the exact details, but they had known all the same what the end result would be.
Not for the first time, Optimus wondered what he could have done to prevent it. Hindsight was far more accurate than any information one might have in the moment, and second-guessing his own decisions was pointless, but he could not help but consider what he might have done differently.
Perhaps, if he had listened more carefully to Megatronus's words and heard the hints behind them, before the words became actions.
Perhaps, if someone had contacted Megatronus before he had given up hope of any good existing on a Cybertron led by someone other than him.
Perhaps, if he had done a better job of convincing the Council that the problem was not a need for a new Prime, but a need for things to change. Perhaps if he had not allowed himself to believe that as the Prime, he could right all the wrongs.
Perhaps, if someone had seen and acted on the deep systemic problems facing Cybertron before mechs in Megatron's position had concluded that there was no solution but violence.
There were many perhaps's. If he could go back in time, knowing what he knew, then perhaps he would have chosen one, and Cybertron--and countless of its inhabitants--might live.
But considering that possibility was pointlessly painful. No one had the luxury of going back and undoing their own mistakes, no matter how much they might want to. Cybertron was dead. His own choices, and his own mistakes, had contributed to it. He could not resurrect the planet, as much as he might want to. Nor could he undo the damage of the war.
There was only moving forward, and protecting this new planet from Cybertron's fate.
Ratchet was looking at him, silently waiting for the Prime to speak. Optimus suspected that the medic knew far more of his inner thoughts than he let on, but Ratchet would never raise the issue unless Optimus spoke of it first. Some things were best left unsaid, even between old friends.
The sun dipped completely below the horizon, leaving the rose- and orange-tinted sky rapidly fading to a deep purple. In the distance, the lights of the small human town--Jasper, Agent Fowler had called it--glowed dimly against the dark sky, a few tiny pinpricks of light. No city on Cybertron had been that small since before the dawn of the Golden Age.
Optimus pulled himself out of his reverie with a slight shake of his helm. Dwelling on the past was not doing him any good, and discussing it would only entrench the what-ifs further.
"Come. We should see what modifications will need to be made to the new equipment Agent Fowler delivered."
"I can tell you that right now--lots," Ratchet grunted, rising and stretching. "That'll be a few years' work, at least. This planet's technology might as well have been salvaged from the Predacon Age--or earlier."
Optimus smiled inwardly. "I am sure your skills are equal to the task."
"Of course they are. Doesn't mean it'll be easy." Ratchet paused with one hand on the roof door. "You know, Prime, if you need to talk..."
He let the words trail off. Optimus understood them anyway.
"Of course. Should I ever have the need, I will let you know."
But not for the topic of Cybertron's fall.
Hindsight was cruel enough when kept to himself. He would not inflict it on his team.
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