(There's Smokescreen after his change into a flier :) Hope you all like it!)

     A drop of water slid from the slightly curved digit of (Y/D), making the water ripple, distorting her reflection, and she was glad of it. When the water calmed once more, she stared at her reflection again, a repetition she had been doing at the favoured oasis for an hour by now. Her bright green optics glittered, but not in happiness, and a scar, not yet buffed out and polished, shown near her derma. 

So much like her Sire.

Her expression grew cross, and the mirror like water shattered as she made a small wave, the lighter peaks hitting the shore on the other side, as if reaching out to the ruins of Darkmount, the gentle sounds of the quick water it's mourning cry.

Too much like her Sire.

(Y/D) looked again at the clearing reflection, and hated it. Why couldn't she be more like her Carrier? Sure, her green optics were a definite trait, but no one just looks at one small aspect of someone. No, they look at what's obvious, what they see first hand, the first impression. Her build, the sharp digits, singular jagged tooth, her alt being that of the skies, her demeanor, her past. No one would be able to guess that her Carrier as Echoblast, a forgotten Data clerk and unknown warrior. The only ones who knew kept it a secret, not wanting to blacken the honorable name of Echoblast through the horrid war that brought her demise, especially when her own offspring was unsure who to follow: her Sire, or her Spark.

         "And you followed a monster," she glared at herself, a servo coming up to the scarred plating just above her chassis where the Decepticon symbol used to rest. It was long gone, but (Y/D) still felt the weight of what it stood for, and tried to scratch it off sub-consciously, "because you're one too..."

Her gaze transitioned to the view of the broken tower, a citadel that, if she had chosen so, would have been hers to rule beside her Sire. The energon tears had already fallen, and she was near empty, not having refueled since Darkmount fell, except maybe once, but she didn't care to remember. 

         "Hey, it's still here!"

     Being startled by Smokescreen's failed landing, (Y/D) got up, wiping what might have been left of her self-loathing tears. 

         "Why wouldn't it be?" she shrugged, "It's still several miles from the ruins."

         "Maybe so," the grounder-turned-flier looked to what he saw as a wonderful view, "but I would have expected at least some debris."

The Decepticon heir gave a half smile, and Smokescreen turned, worry evident in his faceplate.

       "You know, you shouldn't think of yourself like that."

(Y/D) then knew that she had been talking out loud the whole time, something only her Carrier knew about, because she did it too.

         "What I think of myself is-"

         "None of my business? Yeah, maybe, but is it why yo never came to the Autobots?" 

She knew he was right, but merely crossed her arms as he sat down on the other side of the water, looking at his own reflection, the tips of his top wings just barely seen in the water.

         "Here's a secret: I used to hate fliers," he smiled softly, "The only ones I knew where the names of living and dead Decepticons. Now, I'm one of them."

He stood up again, his smile replaced by a frown.

         "You're a flier, and I was cautious, kind of... okay not really but I did have a biased opinion of you for awhile."

This much was true, though his curiosity had trumped his hate for her class of vehicle.

         "You hated me?"

         "No," he shook his helm, "I hated what you were... are... You know what, scratch that, my point is," he sighed, dragging a servo over his faceplate, "I am now something I used to hate, but I don't hate me."

(Y/D) frowned, still not understanding his meaning, and Smokescreen saw that his message wasn't getting through to her.

         "You changed my view," he looked to the ground, kicking the sand slightly, "You were an outlier, one single outlier," Smokescreen found his courage to look up, seeing that (Y/D) had lost her reserved demeanor, servos dangling by her sides, optics changed from a confused frustration, to a calm readiness to listen further, "But, you don't have one outlier, you have eight. Optimus, Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, the entire team! We don't see, Megatron. Prime sees Echoblast, and I bet, if I had seen your Carrier,  I'd see more her than Megatron too... I don't see a monster. I... I see a hero."

         "I'm no hero," was (Y/D)'s immediate response, "A hero helps others without thinking of any self gain. Optimus is a hero, my Sire was a hero, I'm just a product of being raised by a flawed hero."

Smokescreen was about to say something further, to prove his point over hers, but was stopped as the princess of a flawed faction raised a servo to stop him. 

         "When you have a legend to live up to, I am nothing compared to who I am descendant to."

     She sat back down in the sandy grass of the oasis, looking to her reflection once more.

         "No one thinks to highly of Megatron," Smoekscren chuckled as he sat beside her, wings making the movement a chore, not quite being used to them yet, "I think you're good in that department."

The shuffling of sand masked over the soft sigh of his current femme companion, and he smiled at her when he was finally able to sit down completely.

         "I didn't mean, my Sire," she looked to the mech with saddened optics, a look that made his spark twinge with the regret of misunderstanding, "I was talking about... my Carrier."

Should she tell him, or should she not? That was a surprisingly quick debate as the words, unsaid for vorns, began to tumble out of her intake, choosing for her.