We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Airazor felt a moment of bitter betrayal that, after vorns of an unspoken but mutual agreement to not touch on certain topics, certain people, Rattrap would orchestrate the conversation in this direction. She couldn't be angry at Rhinox, though, even as his quiet voice summoned up memories she'd archived, and pain she'd done her best to firewall away.
She leaned into Rhinox's sturdy bulk, into the comfort of their overlapping fields, her vocalizer issuing forth a keen of grief. She had never grieved for Tigatron, not really, telling herself that avenging him, avenging all of them, was more important, that grief was a luxury she couldn't afford when there were only the two of them and a nearly scrapped ship.
Now, surrounded by the security of an actual base (a base, people, and Primus only now was it striking her how very alone she and Rattrap had been), and the far more meaningful security of having one of their lost returned to her, she let herself indulge, let herself mourn, the cold tightness around her spark loosening and warming and finally easing into something she could bear without resorting to ignoring it utterly.
"Airazor," Rhinox murmured, and pulled her close. The hurt was coming off his friend in waves, battering him relentlessly, but he knew his own field was doing the same thing and welcomed Airazor's company on the Island of Lonely and Mourning. No trying to pull it in, be the strong one, now; that was the last thing Airazor needed, to think she needed to pack away her grief again, that it was something to be ashamed of. Rhinox refused to let either of them be ashamed.
He squeezed her hand gently, glyphs for sorrow and remembrance glowing in their mingled fields.
Rattrap would hardly claim that he hadn't felt the deaths of the others on the Axalon as keenly as Airazor and Rhinox clearly had. But he had been sparked a worthless, expendable piece of drop-caste scrap, surrounded by others just as worthless and just as expendable. Rattrap had practically onlined to loss, experienced it often enough to make him cynical if not outright bitter, and most importantly, had learned to work his way past it.
Those were lessons Airazor, Rhinox, and the others hadn't had to learn until the war started. He had watched as each loss hit them harder than it did him, simply because they were so unprepared to deal with any of them. Even he hadn't been prepared to have everyone torn away in a single battle gone straight to the slag heap, though. If he had been, maybe he would have done a better job at helping Airazor cope, after, instead of letting her lock it all away.
He suspected that, if he'd been the kind of mech who could be prepared for something like that, he wouldn't have done her much good.
All in the past, anyway, and nothing he could do to change it. What he could do was what he was doing: provide a warm, living presence holding on to them both, projecting comfort and reassurance (and, fine, slaggit, love) for all he was worth.
As far as Rhinox was concerned, Rattrap's worth could be calculated as "priceless." Strong in ways they weren't or couldn't be, loyal in his way as anyone Rhinox had ever known - oh, slag it all. Rhinox pulled Rattrap closer, making damn sure Rattrap was subsumed in his field and knew exactly how he felt without having to try to explain it. He'd never been much good with words, but he'd never needed to be.
He lowered his head, resting it lightly against Airazor's, shuttering his optics to filter out unnecessary data. Grief, guilt, sorrow, regret, loss... gratitude, affection, loyalty, love.
Rattrap felt the moment the weight of the fields around him shifted from the overwhelming weight of grief too long suppressed to something that didn't hurt any less - too soon for that - but which nonetheless felt completely different. He sighed and relaxed into Rhinox's embrace, into the warm emotions now filling the big mech's field.
Big Green always had been kinda sentimental; right now, Rattrap didn't even have the spark to tease him over it.
It was Airazor who finally broke the silence with a shaky little laugh. "This reminds me," she said, wrapping an arm around Rattrap so that the three of them were curled snugly together, "of the planet with the ice caves."
"Easy for you ta laugh," Rattrap groused. "You weren't the one with Inferno's big round aft practically on top a ya while we waited ta see if 'Bolt was gonna get his processor unscrambled enough ta fly."
Rhinox chuckled, the sound low and vibrating them both gently. He hadn't been along on that mission, but he'd gotten an audialful about it from everyone involved.
"That's nothing," he said. "Remember the time an entire mountain fell on top of me? It took you all almost a full rotation to find me, let alone dig me out, and when you did I couldn't stop babbling."
"As I recall," Airazor said, the arm around Rattrap tightening a bit, "you weren't the only one babbling by the time we dug you out."
"Yeah, an' as I recall, you weren't doin' too much better," Rattrap groused.
"True enough," the femme replied calmly, not rising to Rattrap's bait. The composition of the mountain in question had blocked both comms and the majority of their sensors, even her own specialized equipment and mods; when a dusty, dented, and yes, babbling, Rhinox had finally been lifted bodily from the rubble by Siege, relief had robbed Airazor of any attempt at calm professionalism.
Airazor bumped lightly against Rhinox's side. "That was the last time you were allowed to take point on a subterranean investigation, wasn't it?"
Rhinox chuckled, nestling them closer. "I'm better suited for rear guard anyway." Truth be told, he'd thought his friends' babbling was... kind of adorable. Not that he'd ever tell them that, of course.
"Though nobody ever came out unscathed taking point in subterranean environment," he added with a careful shrug. "Some bad mojo or something. Remember when Rattrap ran into Tarantulas in those slippery pearlescent caverns on Cygnarus? He might have been in real trouble if Tarantulas could have done more than flail around and curse."
Rattrap laughed at the reminder, wriggling free of the others to reach for the high grade cubes sitting forgotten around them. "Hey, if I coulda done more'n slide around on my tail, Tarry woulda been th' one in trouble. An' you," he punctuated the words by pushing one of the cubes at Airazor, "coulda warned me about those caves."
Embarrassment, amusement, and apology all colored Airazor's field. "I flew through there, Ratty. It didn't even occur to me you'd have trouble until after you'd started swearing at us over the comm."
Rhinox tried to hold back an entirely unbecoming giggle. Tried, but failed. Utterly. "But it was pretty funny watching you slide around," he pointed out with a sheepish grin. "We could have used you for a hockey puck."
"I'll use you fer a hockey puck," Rattrap growled, the threat utterly spoiled by the fact that his fist against Rhinox's well-armored arm did exactly slag-all. "Yer just lucky that whole mess ended up with me gettin' ta spend some quality time with Legs."
Airazor snorted. "Blackarachnia threatened to peel your plating off if you ever touched her again, and then dumped you in a lake."
"Hot spring," Rattrap corrected, with a nostalgic sigh. "Not exactly a hot oil bath, but ya didn't hear me complainin'." He waggled his optic ridges at her and leered. "Ya shoulda joined me. Ya got no idea whatcha missed."
"A parasitic infection, if I remember correctly," Airazor deadpanned. She turned to Rhinox. "That was the world with the technorganic mesh-burrowing worms, wasn't it?"
Rhinox shuddered eloquently. "Don't remind me. I wouldn't wish those things on my worst enemy." The infestation had hurt like the Pit, and he'd itched for weeks afterwards to boot. "The cure wasn't all that pleasant either. Why did Rattrap's garbage breath be the only thing they were allergic to, why...?"
Airazor chuckled. "That's what you get for volunteering to be the one to fish him out of the water."
"An' I told ya, it ain't garbage. I was sparked a recyclin' unit." Or, more accurately, a sanitation unit - what the humans no doubt would have called a walking, talking garbage disposal - but he liked recycling better. Even Rattrap had his pride, after all.
Rhinox chuckled. "Well. I suppose you're worth it." He hugged Rattrap closer, humming affection/trust/teasing at him. "Especially considering how many times you've saved all our afts since then. Remember the old warship the 'Cons dug up?"
"Eh, that old rust bucket woulda fallen apart even without my help," Rattrap said with blatant false modesty, field humming with smug/pleased/praise me anyway. "Just wouldn'ta gone down with as big a boom, or such excellent timin'."