??.? "This a bad time to say I got the touch?"
"Better yet, I think ya have the power. Or however that lyric goes."
IN WHICH a girl hums through life in quiet rhythms, but for every thousand lives she's lived, each time, the tempo stumbles. Each ti...
A/N: I will now be trying to do a chapter schedule of uploading on SUNDAYS!
I will do my best... I've never done this before but I'll keep yall updated if something changes. This is to prevent these long gaps inbetween where I upload a lot then get busy or go through a moment of being drained af, so hopefully it works!
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The sun was barely clinging to the edge of the world.
A low orange blaze curled up from the horizon like flame off dying embers, casting the cliffside in a wash of gold and bloodlight. The wind moved slow here, gentle, as if respectful of the moment, too careful to interrupt the fragile stillness that had settled between two souls who hadn't been in each other's orbit in... too long to say aloud.
Jazz didn't speak right away, and neither did she.
Rhea was sitting again after their long hug that felt like it would last eternity, back against a stone outcrop, one leg pulled close to her chassis as if trying to take up less space. Her frame still shimmered faintly from the energon leak earlier, sealed now, but not forgotten. The damage was shallow, superficial, and not nearly enough to hinder, but enough to mark her.
Jazz sat beside her, masking everything else he felt in favor of helping her clean her faceplate. She had told him multiple times that it was okay, but the mech had literally punched her... He wasn't just going to let that go...
Which was probably why she kept stealing glances at him like she could see the flicker beneath the visor, the micro-twitch of tension in his jaw. Like maybe she knew what he wasn't saying.
And maybe she did. Still... she stopped insisting she was fine and let him treat her faceplate if it would help ease the guilt leaking from his fairly closed-off EM field–something she wasn't used to feeling.
Primus–the only Cybertronians she had come across weren't close enough or unguarded enough for her to feel an EM field in its entirety, or had just been negativity amidst whatever brief battle she found herself in.
Even if this was only a flicker of what a raw EM field looked like–leaked emotions, really–it was utterly distracting. Enough so that she didn't even focus on his digits being as gentle as possible against her faceplate as he patched up the little leak. His gentle touches might as well have been feather grazing her with how much care and intention he put behind not making it worse for her.
She wondered if the suppressed field was something you had to learn, and stressed about it momentarily as her optics stared at his blue visor awfully close to her, working on her faceplate.
