True Leadership )-Predaking x Youngling Reader-(

Peace, Be Still

     Predaking awakened from his slumber with a stretch, glad to be in his Predacon form. Pistons and joints hissed and popped as his claws scratched at the already scarred recharge chamber. The Predacon's would call it a berthroom, but there was no berth to be seen. He whipped his massive, powerful tail before stretching his spinal strut, letting out a content, beastly groan as he peered out of his door. The air seemed oddly... tranquil. 

     The massive beast didn't bother to transform, too comfortable, like a man in his boxers. He slipped around the small hallway that formed a circle, looking through his energon cupboard for a ration that interested him. There was no difference in shape, color or size (albeit bigger than what most Cybertronian's would have), he was simply enjoying the thoughts of the mundane, a peace in his spark he couldn't quite explain, but he rather liked it. It was as if all was well with the world. War was an afterthought, rebellion nonexistent and relations with everyone smooth like sweetened energon. 

     With a practiced talon he opened the top, still too lazy to transform. The room was big enough to accommodate his size anyway. He used this advantage so little anymore, wanting to keep an optic on (Y/D), who was always a servo-full. He hummed, realizing he didn't have to leave her today. Predaking downed the entire container past his parted jaws, breaking the glass. He'd spit it back out in a little ball anyway, he just hated how the metal tops would always get stuck between his denta. The glass was separated from the energon only a few Earth minutes later, and he let the clear ball roll, regurgitating it. 

(Y/D) would most likely enjoy playing with it.

     Tucking it into her little basket, where all her acquired toys went (including the horn of Skystalker), Predaking shoved it back in it's usual corner to clean his little hole in the ground. It didn't take too long, since he wasn't one to make too much of a mess, but sometimes (Y/D)'s antics turned his tidy home into a ground-zero sight. She hadn't been with him for awhile though, except for when he was finally able to bring her home. She had immediately bolted for the Predacon horn that no longer reeked of death, but rather smelled like the young femme and her acidic breath. The mech's wings twitched as he looked around, optics calm with the sense of peace in his spark. He crooned for the youngling, confused when he received no answer. He looked in his chamber, finding no sight of her. Checking the medical room, this too held no signs of the femme. He peered back in his common area, peaceful feeling gone as he transformed.

         "(Y/D)?" He looked around again, listening closely for the youngling.

     Now half panicked, he peered outside his home, looking side to side before looking down. In his panic he recognized the same peace he had felt earlier. It seemed to waft across the ground like a moon-lit fog. The mech's below were just as tranquil as he was, nothing to change their mood. No youngling to suddenly realize was gone. Since no one was fighting, or screaming in terror at the unblinking creature, he started the short walk up the staircase.

     Predaking felt the now nagging feeling of the peacefulness. It was as if the invisible force flowed over his pedes, the planet itself being the source. His steps slowed as he neared the Autobot city. Eerie silence filled the streets as he walked toward the meeting hall. It wasn't early, nor was it late. Mechs and femmes alike littered the streets, simply looking content, even his Predacon subjects mingled. He would have let it take over again if it weren't for the missing youngling. He could only think of the Autobots, an anger bubbling but the peace that covered the planet of Cybertron watered the hot feeling down with it's easy coolness. The mech stepped into the meeting hall, a couple bots roaming around but none were of the Autobot Council. They didn't seem very wary of him as the bots most often are, indeed they weren't paying much attention as they laughed. Predaking only halted his search when a familiar voice called his designation. 

         "Predaking!" Arcee called again, her soft smile out of character, when she was around him anyway, "It's a miracle- it's so peaceful."

         "Where is (Y/D)?" Was his response, startling the two wheeler.

         "Oh- you didn't know she had left?"

His optic twitched, but the laughter around him swelled in response to the sudden wave of cool rest that blanketed his spark.

         "No, I had not. She must have gone during the night."

The powerful beast wondered how he was so... accepting of her statement. Why would (Y/D) simply leave him?

         "I see. (Y/D) appeared in Bumblebee's dwelling last night. He doesn't know how, the door was locked and the windows can't be opened from the outside. All he remembers was that he was restless, with memory purges and nightmares, and then something eased his spark of the loss of Rafael."

     Arcee's words were soft, matching the atmosphere brought by an unknown force. Predaking's spark churned, contemplating what on Cybertron he should be feeling. His processor said anger, but his spark said relief and peace; tranquility.

         "You are not suspicious of this odd peacefulness?" He decided to ask, and for a moment Arcee had her usual serious look as she thought. 

         "No," the femme shook her helm, "I would be suspicious if my spark was disagreeing with my processor, as if in my mind I was happy but my spark was not. This-" she gestured to nothing, simply staring around her, "My spark is content, and so is the whole of Cybertron."

     Predaking allowed her to lead him to Bumblebee's home, where he had to duck to get in the door. He found (Y/D) playing happily as Bumblebee apparently finished filling up a glass with the familiar blue liquid of energon. Smokescreen sat on the couch with Bulkhead, Arcee deciding to sit between them as they jested. The yellow and black mech gave the cup he filled to (Y/D), offering a second to Predaking, then a third to a (F/C) and (S/C) femme he did not recognize. She looked to him with a tender love in her optics, smiling softly.

         "I'm okay, my Guardian."