Prelude - an independent piece, of moderate length, sometimes used as an introduction to a fugue.
Thunder s danced through the sky currently overtaken by dark clouds adorned with the faintest red hue along the clearer edges. The crackling sound that followed the light show sent tremors through the town below , shaking doors and windows and elicited whimpers from the young ones too scared by the act of nature they did not quite understand.
"Such a horrible night." A female's voice intoned while she watched the unforgiving acid rain pouring down from the skies. "The stench will be unbearable come the dawn."
"It is what it is." A mech spoke softly, watching the droplets pounding mercilessly the street's ground. In this town they had the luxury of a special coating protecting the ground and their homes but not all were as fortunate as they were. Many humbler places faced the degradation of their roads and streets after an acid storm like this and their already abused feet were treated to the mess of mud generated by partly melted materials, lending them an even more decayed and poor appearance.
"Such is our lot." The femme spoke with a tone of resignation which oddly enough had just the barest hint of fondness. "Are you not hungry? You've barely touched your meal."
"I find myself more preoccupied with your well being, you are fast approaching the critical period of generation." The mech approached her, his golden chevron glinting on the faint light of their kitchen. "I still cannot believe you would put yourself through this for me."
"Quit the nonsense already, Smokescreen." She smiled at him with cockiness. "We wanted this, both of us wanted our relationship to be more than just fun and games. I know what you are, I know what being with you entangles. We've been through this when we bonded, so stop worrying about it, I'm not going to fall on my back and deactivate just because I'm producing your offspring."
"Chromia, I still cannot believe you would choose me over all the suitors you've had. You are too good to me." Smokescreen smiled, taking her hand between both his own to stroke the palm and back of it. "I have no words to describe how fortunate I am to have you in my life."
Chromia chuckled softly and leaned up to peck the mech's cheek. "My darling Smokescreen, you had no competition whatsoever for my affections, believe me." She brought a hand to the side of his helm to stroke the audial receptor unit. "No mech can compare to you."
Smokescreen found himself content enough with that answer and gently stroked her own audio with blue finger. "I am only worried of the fate I might be bestowing upon the unborn."
"Everyone in the clan has had a chance to decide by themselves if they will accept their fate or renounce the task appointed to you. No child of ours will be tasked with your duty if it's not within their spark to do so." Chromia assured him with that peaceful yet confident smile of hers. "For now, let's concentrate on bringing the little one to existence and we'll worry about the unborn Hunter's Etude when the time comes."
Smokescreen smiled in contentment and knew he was a lucky one to have gained Chromia's favor. She had been a musician highly respected and popular, her public and private performances were always a delight to watch and there was no shortage of attention towards her. Proposals and propositions were almost a rite after every performance or public appearance of hers.
Smokescreen would not deny his own desires for her, but he found her personality much more attractive than her physical beauty. It was what kept him hanging around, far enough to avoid being noticed but close enough to hear her speak.
Even now he wasn't sure how she actually took notice of him and approached him to talk but he thanked whatever forces of fate pushed her in that direction.
"Not an usual noblemech, are you?" She'd asked shortly after they formally met. Chromia knew even then that Smokescreen bore a heavy duty on his shoulders, for although the clan was of noble forge and their wealth nearly as legendary as their duty, gossip and superstition followed their path.
It was the reason Smokescreen feared the clan's legacy would be lost after him, who would want to bear a spark only to be delivered to the rough path the hunters had to traverse through their lives. Smokescreen always feared solitude but was at peace with the belief solitude and loneliness would be part of his life.
Chromia changed that belief and now she was delivering to the world another spark who might have to carry the same weight its parent did? Smokescreen only hoped eventually his offspring would be as lucky as he was to find love as true and resilient as Chromia's was.
Two decacycles later, under the rampage of thunder and the deathliest of acid rain, a new life came to exist. The cries were loud and could almost overpower the roar of thunder, the wiggling limbs expressing the unhappiness of the newly created sparkling, born to the noble cradle of Hunters and the loving arms of Smokescreen and Chromia.
Cleaned off excess materials to produce its shell and wrapped in the fine blankets its parents' status afforded to him, the new mechling was placed against his mother's chest, where her spark's wavelength would harmonize with his spark and calm down the displeased infant.
For cycles he went without a name, as the superstitious servants would declare a creation under an acid storm was a bad omen, and the sparklet was to be named only after the Circle of Light had purified the infant off its bad luck after a bath in the pond known as the blood of Primus. The energon, considered virtually a holy emanation of Primus himself, the core of their planet, was unique and under the custody of the Circle of Light, led by Dai Atlas and his cohort, Axe.
To be bathed with this holy energon would ensure the newly created life to enjoy life free of the bad luck that would otherwise forever plague him and those around. Dai Atlas commented, as he held the frowning infant in his massive palms, that this sparkling would scare bad luck away merely by virtue of that glare of his.
Jokes aside, the sparkling was cleansed and after tolerating being handled by strangers, the sparkling demanded in no uncertain way to be refueled. Axe traced small symbols in the tiny band of red that would soon develop into a chevron, the blessing and the name bestowed upon him.
"It's alright, dear...you can have your mix now." Chromia smiled as she fed her son. "Such a charming little guy you are, aren't you, Prowl?"
"He has a temper, I think," Smokescreen said as he watched his mate feed their new born, the holy energon being absorbed into the delicate armor plates to bless and nourish the infant. "I wonder who he picked that from." Smokescreen teased his mate.
"Yeah, I wonder." Chromia grinned and jabbed his side. "Welcome to Cybertron, Prowl. You'll find it an interesting place to be."
Prowl looked up at his mother and father, not certain of what the fuss was all about but as long as he was being refueled he could not care any less. For now it was all that mattered to him and his proud progenitors.