Chapter Text
When you’re up against a trouble,
Meet it squarely, face to face;
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and take a brace.
When it’s vain to try to dodge it,
Do the best that you can do;
You may fail, but you may conquer,
See it through!
See it Trough By Edgar Albert Guest
Prowl drew in a deep vent and held it. Around him, the Iacon Main Transport Station bustled with mechs arriving and leaving. The crowd was unlike anything he had ever seen in Praxus. Due to their sensitive wings, Praxians appreciated their personal space and preferred to walk with certain distance between themselves and strangers. Thus, Praxian crowds were for the most part calm and orderly with no touching or pushing. Accidental touch was considered rude and touching a sensory wing very offensive.
Iacon was the capital city-state of Cybertron and as such, it was much more densely populated. The crowd here filled every available space and mechs brushed casually against each other as they hurried to get to their destination, unbothered by the contact.
Prowl remained frozen to the spot, huddled against one of the absolutely towering pillars that rose from the tiled floor towards the high crystal ceiling. The diameter of the pillar was 5.76 times Prowl’s own width and offered some protection against the steadily flowing flood of travelers. The transport station was a large and open space with plenty of natural light streaming in from the see-through ceiling. It was old, and had many decorative carvings in its design. Prowl figured he could stay right were he was and admire the architecture until he felt brave enough to join the crowd. Or until the crowds lessened. Whichever came first.
Primus, he thought he’d left this kind of pandemonium behind when he moved up from his sparkling classes!
He had a long journey from Praxus behind him and he was both tired and hungry. He missed his Caretaker at the Home, she had been his unwavering support after his progenitor had deactivated.
Marrum had given her all to help him, when he’d been struggling to make his way trough his life, one orn at a time. He had crashed frequently, sometimes several times an orn and Marrum had always been there, her field around him and her low, gentle voice in his audio. He’d power up in her powerful, thick arms, to a feeling he had learned to identify as safety. Marrum had helped him recognize and sort his emotions until his crashes grew more sporadic and he felt like he could function on his own again, like and independent mech.
He missed Marrum.
He wanted to run to her and curl in her protective embrace. Even now, though he was already second decavorn youngling, he could still fit easily in her arms. Marrum was – had always been – very free with her affection. She would sweep him in her arms and hold him just because she though he looked like he needed a hug. Being as big as she was, she could easily lift even average sized mechs in her metro-titan hugs and more than one sulking youngling had found themselves trapped in her arms until they gave in and accepted her comfort.
But Marrum was not just his caretaker. Marrum was a worker in Aegis, Home for Mechlings, and mechlings came in and they left. The workers devoted themselves to their charges wholesparkedly, but when a mechling reached adulthood and left, the obligations ended. Prowl knew some kept in touch, informed the much-loved workers of Aegis how they were doing and even visited sometimes. But Prowl didn’t know how to keep in casual touch, without feeling like he was dependent on them. He feared if he had an opportunity, he would balk at the next difficulty and just run back to Aegis, to Marrum’s waiting arms.
Because Marrum would welcome him back. But he was only welcome in Aegis until he reached his adulthood, after which he would be forced to move out so younger-ones could move in.
No, Marrum had been wonderful caretaker and Prowl would remember her with warmth, but it was time to leave it all behind. He had nothing in Praxus. It was time to make his life here in Iacon, to find himself a new place in society and build a new home.
And this time he would be the one who decided. He would, from now on, be the master of his own life, and be responsible of his own happiness.
No longer would he be dependent on others like he had been on his progenitor. He would never be in anyone’s mercy like he had been at Quickrun’s. He wouldn’t tiptoe around someone else in his own home, wouldn’t twist his own wings to make someone else notice him, to acknowledge him, to love him. He would never be trapped how he had been, before. His wings canted with determination and he looked up at the crowd.
It was still frightening, but this was Iacon and Iacon was where he would now live.
One crowd would not scare him away.
Tucking his sensory wings Prowl pushed away from the safety of the pillar and walked deeper into the busy Station.