"What's with the long faceplate?"

It was Smokescreen, coming in for a rough landing as he transformed, stumbling as he hit the rock of the cliff. Once he found his footing again, the mech sat beside a melancholy (Y/D), who hadn't even looked at him. She continued to look up into the night sky, where she knew she was free. Then why does she feel anchored to the unrelenting Earth?

         "Just... thinking," she answered, the green of her optics dulled, matching the somber mood that not even the stars could seem to brighten.

         "You think he's still online," Smokescreen knew, those were his thoughts as well, no matter how much hope he may have.

         "I don't think," (Y/D) said coldly, "I know he's still online. It's hard to keep him shut out."

         "I can imagine."

         "Can you?" she huffed, optics moving to stare at the ground, where she imagined shackles around her pedes, "You don't have a bond with him that no matter how many times you tell yourself it's okay to, you can't allow it to fade into oblivion, where it belongs."

Sighing, the rookie looked to the ground as well. He didn't have a bond like she did, so he wouldn't know her pain, no, her torture. he came from the Well of Sparks, like most everyone else, so the mech was never pre-equipped with any sort of bond like (Y/D) is. Looking back to the femme, he saw many emotions she was trying to hide. Frustration, anger, sadness, loneliness. She had been alone for so long, and somehow made it through those millennias, those eons of no one but the symbiotes she had made.

         "You're right," he nodded, "This is harder then what I'll ever know, I am still a rookie," his short chuckle brought a momentary smile to (Y/D)'s faceplate, "But, while I might not know what you're going through... I'm still here to listen..."

     Seemingly startled, (Y/D)'s attention snapped to the mech next to her, and she stared at him, puzzled, relieved, vexed, whatever came up made her indecisive of her next move. Should she leave? Where would she go? For some reason her spark was telling her to kiss him, but the femme didn't want to listen. Punching him sounded good, a nice left hook that would leave a sizable dent in his helm. Yeah that sounded satisfying. But her fists wouldn't move, to busy holding her kneeplates to her chassis as she stared at the rookie, not to much older than her, but less experienced in the ways of war. She stared, lost in his hesitant smile, not the usual cocky grin he wore around the others. She loved that innocent smile, and hoped it would never disappear, as hers did. She didn't want to break him.

         "From my standpoint you've repaired me more than once already."

(Y/D) felt her faceplates heat up as she realized she was speaking out loud. Her gaze transitioned to the ground, cooling fans loud and obnoxious as they whirred.

Smokescreen chuckled.

         "Just because I'm a rookie doesn't mean I haven't seen my fair share of the carnage," the mech stated, "but that doesn't mean I've seen as much as you have."

         "You're contradicting yourself," (Y/D) didn't see his point.

         "What I mean is that I might not have gone through the tortures of your experiences," he explained, "But I do have the ability to at least try and understand without losing myself in the sorrow of it all."

Those emerald optics flicked back to the new flier, though she made no other indication that she was still listening. Letting a sigh escape his derma, Smokescreen continued.

         "We all have something that tears us up inside, like a crazed Scraplet, it eats at us everyday, at some point it has to come out, or else you risk a lot more than someone else seeing you cry."

     He would have made a great Prime, (Y/D) decided, and looked back to the ground. She was to busy thinking of what to say next to notice the strong digit that she could easily overpower, take a gentle hold of her chin, and make her look to the equally if not more gentle optics of Smokescreen. He smiled at the sight of her unique optics, a treasure. Prettier than any diamond or energon glow. The stars from above dotted her faceplate, like adorable freckles that only added to her beauty. Who could ask for more? The silver reflective flecks were distorted by her tears as she cried for the second time in vorns. Bringing her close, Smokescreen let her cry with no comment, no more words of wisdom, just the no longer as lonely silence of the night, and the mentally made swishings of the occasional shooting star. This is not a moment one would wish to last forever, but it's not one those would simply wish to pass either, and both the femme and mech found themselves at this crossroads.

     At last the sobs ebbed to hiccups, and hiccups to the slow descent into recharge, the rookie finding himself with a drained femme who would most likely punch him for waking her up just to go back to base. So here on the cliff he stayed, wings twitching from time to time at the slightly colder night time breezes that would pass by. The night creatures howled, hissed and slithered, the stars twinkled and the moon made the clouds look as silver as (Y/D)'s beautiful frame. And all seemed well, for the Princess and the Soldier.