Chapter Text
Straining his neck to look out the port window, Rung gazed upon the moon colony Caminus in fascination and wonder, his optics wide beneath his glasses. From a distance, the world looked very much like Cybertron but Rung knew that the colony was very much unique and special.
Rung had quickly read about Caminus and its inhabitants before going on this journey, as abrupt as it had been. It had been fascinating to read how the camians had developed their own culture and religion while cut off from Cybertron. One could clearly see where they had a common ground but had then split off to form something unique. In particular, Rung had taken a great interest in their fixation on art and the act of creation. While yes, he wasn’t the most creative of mechs (he didn’t think building model spacecraft counted) he still greatly appreciated art in all its forms. That’s why, when the opportunity had presented itself to visit Caminus to exchange work methods and studies with their therapists, Rung had practically jumped on it. He longed to see the crystal gardens, the oil ponds.
Still, the actual travel itself was not something he had looked forward to, especially when he saw that he had been seated between two bulky mechs whose frames both crowed over to his seat.
Fidgeting, Rung earned an irritated grunt from the mech sitting next to him, the one with the window seat. “Ah, sorry” he quickly said but the mech had simply grunted once more before leaning his head back with his optics turned off, obviously trying to get a few more minutes of recharge before they landed. Rung didn't understand why he had paid extra for a window seat if he was just going to sleep the entire way. He also couldn’t understand how he could sleep when Rung himself was so excited that he had read the same pamphlets at least a dozen times already. How could he not be tense with anticipation of Caminus, especially not with how sensationalized it had become on Cybertron.
The recent reunion between Cybertron and the long lost colony had been a monumental moment celebrated by both worlds. Cybertron had long sought to reclaim its lost colonies while apparently Caminus had wanted to find the original homeworld, the cradle of their people. They meeting between the two worlds had come as a pleasant surprise for almost everyone. Rung remembered with fondness the festivals that had been held in celebration, the excitement in the air. It was all everyone was seemingly talking about nowadays. There was always some news segment describing the most recent meeting between cybertronian and camien officials.
“It’s the start of a new golden age” some had claimed.
“Once we unite with the other colonies out there we’ll become unstoppable” others had said.
Truth to be told, Rung did not care about galactic conquest or domination. Had he been a more ambitious mech then perhaps he’d found an interest in it but as he was he simply found it redundant. They had just finished fighting a war, wasn’t it in their best interest to repair internal relations and rebuild the foundations of their society? Ah, but that was not up to Rung now, was it? He was just a therapist after all.
Camien culture had quickly gotten introduced to those on Cybertron and it was met with great success and appreciation. Music, theater, works of art. Looking at all of this, one could not help but think Cybertron was a bit… dull, in comparison to Caminus. A glittering landscape with beauty to be found everywhere. With Cybertron still rebuilding after the war, it was nice to be reminded of the more finer things in life. Though when it came to politics it seemed like both worlds were both cut from the same cloth as neither world’s leaders had wasted any moment in creating an alliance. Cybertron hoped to gain control over Caminus and reclaim old glory while Caminus were mostly focused on getting raw materials so they could deal with their energy problem. Both powers wanted something from the other and they were both willing to play along.
The shuttle shook as it descended that final distance before landing on the colony. The mech beside Rung awoke with a startled grunt before looking around confusedly as if he didn’t immediately remember why he was on a shuttle. He looked around confused, bleary optics struggling to focus on anything in particular. Rung’s armor plates loosened slightly as he remembered to relax and let out some pressure that he didn’t know had built up during the journey. Looking around, he tried gauging the feelings of his fellow travelers who were all packed tightly next to each other.
There was a sense of anticipation in the air shared between the bots inside now that landing was approaching. There were murmurs of excitement exchanged between individuals, musings about the moon colony they were about to explore. Most of them were, just like Rung, first time visitors and the mechs in this particular shuttle were all here for work related business similar to him. They were here to attend seminars and exchange work methods with their camien brethren.
Some of the bots in the shuttle Rung recognized as fellow autobots he had once worked with, albeit briefly, during the war, though he doubted they recognized him. Not that either autobots or decepticons supposedly existed anymore. Once Megatron and Optimus Prime had announced that the war was going to end both militias had been abolished in the name of peace. Well, mostly. Some bots still clung onto their former identities as soldiers, especially the MTO’s who had only ever experienced war. Rung was more than aware of this as a lot of his patients were bots who had a hard time adapting to peace times. Hopefully, the things he learned on Caminus would allow him to better help his patients.
The shuttle shook once more, this time harder than before, and Rung hit his chin on the box he was holding onto. Internally, he cursed as he rubbed his aching chin. This shuttle didn’t even have a storage unit, forcing all of the passengers to either store their belongings in their sub-space or keep it in their lap. Luckily Rung had been able to pack most of the things he needed in his various pockets but there were a few, larger items that he had been forced to pack into a box.
Had he been a celebrity or politician, Rung would have been placed in a more spacious shuttle with fewer bots onboard and most definitely equipped with a proper storage unit. Perhaps he would even have gotten his own shuttle if he had been important enough. Hah, wasn’t that a thought. A shuttle, all to himself? What a waste. Still, it would have been nice with some more leg room. Rung stretched his whole body taunt with a silent groan. He could already feel how the gears in his legs had grown stiff from the lack of movement. Still, he wasn't was not one to complain. Everyone else on the shuttle were going through the same experience and to complain about discomfort would surely not have been appreciated by the other passengers. Not to mention that he was used to it. Rung would often have to take public transit, both before and after the war, as his… unconventional alt mode didn’t provide him an alternate form of transportation. Alas, what he wouldn’t have traded to be forged with something with wheels or wings. That way he could have avoided getting nearly crushed to death every time he had to go somewhere. People had a nasty tendency to not notice him until he was underfoot after all. Too many times had he been all but trampled on because bots just didn’t register his presence. At least most had the decency to mutter out some kind of apology.
Rung was broken out of his thoughts as the shuttle shook one last time as it finally landed. This time he had the presence of mind to shield his chin before the box hit it again. All the bots on the shuttle went silent and stared at the doors with anticipation. Even the bot that had previously been recharging squirmed in his seat, eager to get out. After a couple of tense seconds, with only the dying sound of the shuttle engines to fill the air, the doors opened with a hiss. Immediately, bots started standing up, eager to get out of this wretched tiny flying box and stretch their legs. Rung rolled his neck and shoulders, feeling the tense cables underneath his plating aching. Even though he was a therapist he had never been particularly good at sitting still for prolonged periods of time. Sure, he could have technically stood up during the flight here and moved around a bit but the shuttle had been so crowded that he would have undoubtedly stepped on someone’s pedes if he had tried to. So, not wanting to be a bother, Rung had remained seated, his box of belongings in his lap.
Now, finally standing up for the first time since their departure from Cybertron, Rung let out a sigh of relief even as his frame creaked. His poor old joints really weren’t what they used to be, thought to be fair; he couldn't remember the time where he had been young enough to live without any sort of ache. That’s the virtue of growing old, he supposed. Besides, after the war he didn’t feel like he had the right to complain about getting to grow old. It felt in poor taste.
Unable to resist the tide of frames shuffling out the shuttle door, Rung followed the flow, allowing himself to be swept along.
The first thing Rung saw as he exited the shuttle was a beautiful sunset. It was evening, the sun was just setting and it created a magnificent skyline. The sky was a pale blue and the clouds were painted in vivid shades of pink and purple. Tearing his optics away from the colorful sunset, Rung finally took notice of his immediate surroundings. Whereas cybertronian buildings were all right angles and straight lines, the buildings on Caminus had a more flowing shape and curves, soft and with a feeling of life. In the back of his mind, Rung remembered reading about this in one of the pamphlets he had read in preparation for his journey. While this sort of architecture did exist on Cybertron it was typically only found in places that had been built during the Golden Age. But on Caminus this kind of style had prevailed through the ages even up to modern times. If the pamphlet were to be believed, most buildings were built with this aesthetic in mind. In the distance, Rung could spot streamlined towers and twisting spires made out of glittering metal and glass which shone like beacons in the setting sun. It offered a breathtaking view and the therapist found himself entranced by it. It was like something out of a painting and he couldn't help but wanting to soak it all up.
Caught up in admiring the sights around him, Rung had stopped in his tracks, which was not the smartest thing considering the fact that he was still in the middle of a moving crowd. One of the bots, the one that had been sleeping in the seat next to him, bumped into him from behind and Rung, having been unprepared for any sort of collision, fell forward without any sort of resistance. He face-planted and dropped his box, causing the lid to open and its content to come tumbling out on the ground.
The mech mumbled a quick sorry but didn’t offer a hand to help the orange bot up or to help pick up his belongings. He didn’t even give him a second glance to see if he was ok, though to be fair, neither did anyone else. Multiple bots were talking to each other animatedly, discussing where to go first or if they should immediately check into their hotel rooms that had been booked in advance. Some were even laughing with each other and they simply stepped around the scattered belongings without even looking. The crowd moved on as if nothing had happened, leaving behind a rather frazzled psychiatrist.
Pushing himself up on his knees, Rung carefully touched his face to make sure nothing was damaged. Luckily, his nose was intact and he didn’t have a split lip. There were no major dents in his face either. Not so lucky, however, was that his glasses, which had taken the brunt of the damage. The delicate glass had cracked, creating a fine web pattern on both lenses. It was impossible to see anything through them, the world turning into an indecipherable collage of colors. Huffing, Rung carefully took them off, inspecting for further damage with his fingers. While the lenses were beyond saving at least the frame itself hadn’t sustained any noticeable critical damage. A lil scuffed, sure, but otherwise intact. And he supposed he was quite lucky that the glass hadn’t outright shattered and caused his optics any injuries. Still, this was not an ideal situation. Having not expected this to happen, especially not on the first day of his trip, Rung had not brought an extra pair with him. No, those had remained back on Cybertron in his apartment, neatly tucked away in a drawer next to his berth. He should have known better, should have known something bad would happen to him.
Still on his knees, Rung sighed. He pressed his hands against his closed optics as he tried to collect himself. Unpleasant emotions boiled up inside his spark, ugly and invasive. Most prominent was the feeling of self loathing. This kind of situation, being pushed around and ignored, was unfortunately something he was used to. At this point he didn’t even blame anyone else for it because surely it was his own fault. His presence was simply… easily overlooked. Forgettable. Lacking. Unless interacted with frequently he would be nearly instantly forgotten and even then those he met on a near day-to-day basis often would forget the most basic things like his name or address. That was why, despite his quite advanced age, he had never had a conjux or an amica. There had been bots he had been close to, even considered friends but he had never been important to anyone. It was simply put a lonely existence. But this was something he had come to accept, albeit begrudgingly. He was just… not special enough.
For a few seconds Rung just sat on the ground, face buried in his hands.
… No, this would not do, Rung quickly decided. This would not do at all! There was no point in wallowing in his own misery and self loathing, it would achieve nothing. He was on Caminus, a completely new world, and there were so many things to see and experience. Besides, he was also here for work! He couldn’t just… couldn’t just sit on the ground and feel bad about himself for the rest of time!
Releasing his face, Rung did his best to smile, even if it was only for himself. He quickly patted both cheeks twice with his hands to bring him back to the present. Yes, the start might have been less than ideal but that didn’t mean things were unsalvageable. He could fix this! It wasn't the end of the world!
Rung stood up and swiftly dusted himself off. He smiled again and was proud that it only felt slightly forced this time. Tucking away his broken glasses into one of his sub-space pockets he then started gathering his scattered belongings, compensating for his bad eyesight by touching along the ground. It took a bit longer than it should have but eventually he managed to get everything back in the box and from what he had felt, nothing appeared to have been broken.
Looking around Rung couldn’t see a trace of his fellow travelers, nor anyone else for that matter. They must have left without him. Now, normally this was not too much of a problem but without his glasses he couldn't read any signs or maps. Not to mention that everything simply looked like blobs of color without any real distinguishing shape and his depth perception was almost completely gone. This meant that if he wanted to avoid bumping into everything and everyone he had to take it very slow. But that was alright! Sure, he might get to the hotel a bit later than anticipated but it was doable! He knew the direction the rest of the passengers had gone in and he was sure that if he went the same way he would eventually come across some kind bystander that could point him in the right direction. If they were kind enough they might even take him there themself.
Thankfully, Rung's box of belongings was small enough for him to carry it with one arm, allowing him to use his other to feel his way forward. Finding a wall he walked along it, one hand always on it to make sure he walked in a straight line.
Making his way out of the shuttle bay area was easier than Rung had anticipated. Since it was an outdoor location he didn't have to worry about cluelessly wandering around endless corridors like he had when he had gone to take the shuttle back on Cybertron. Really, Cybertron had a lot to learn from Caminus, even when it came to architecture. Rung was actually quite font of that Golden Age aesthetic, even if it could go without being so wasteful in resources. Pre-war Cybertron had been so concerned with being untouchable that many buildings were more like fortresses and mazes, especially the government buildings. After walking a distance Rung started hearing the familiar murmur of a crowd. Perking up, he started walking a tad faster. This was excellent progress! Soon he would be able to ask some random passerby for help! Even him with his easily overlooked presence should be able to grab ahold of someone.
The closer he got to the crowd the louder it got. There were a myriad of voices and someone seemed to be holding some kind of speech. What caught Rungs attention however was the sound of live music. Long, drawn out notes of some kind of string instrument and someone was singing, their voice low and sombre. He couldn’t quite make out the lyrics, drowned out by the soft murmur of the crowd, but the tune sounded familiar, though he couldn’t remember where he had heard it before. Rung furrowed his brow as he tried to recollect where he had heard the song before. Was it perhaps when he visited Polyhex for that music festival? No, that wasn’t it, they hadn't played anything like this at that occasion. Maybe Iacon? He had gone on many concerts while he had been studying. Ah, no, that wasn’t it either. Damn his bad memory, he felt like he had the answer on the tip of his tongue. Perhaps if he just got a bit closer and actually managed to make out the lyrics...
The sound of glass shattering rang out as Rung's elbow accidentally bumped into something and sent it crashing on the ground. While he couldn't see anything without his glasses he knew that people were now staring. Silence spread like a wave and the music cut off with an off tune screech.
Pausing mid step, Rung's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he had the sudden, horrifying thought that he might be intruding upon some kind of private gathering. It would certainly explain the live music and what sounded like a speech earlier.
Embarrassed and unsure what to do, Rung took his free hand and waved sheepishly.
“Oh, uhm, I do apologize. Is this a bad time?”
It was if he had suddenly set of a bomb because the voices exploded all at once, loud and frantic. Rung couldn’t make out what any of them were saying, all of them speaking too quickly for him to do anything but catch a few words every now and then. And was that… crying he heard? Oh dear, now he was all but sure that he had intruded upon something. Maybe a conjuxing ritual or, oh, Primus forbid, a funeral. Oh no, this was awful, they must all be terribly upset with him, from what he had heard camiens were highly religious and took these kinds of things very serious.
Taking a step back he raised a hand up in apology. Almost immediately the crowd went silent again. It unnerved Rung greatly and he decided right then that it would be better to try getting help somewhere else. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude." He paused and looked at the spot where he assumed the glass had fallen. "And I really didn't mean to break anything. Really, I am so sorry about that. But I won't intrude any longer, I will be on my way th-” There was a cacophony of screams then.
“No, don’t go!”
“Don’t leave us, oh Divine One!”
“Please stay!”
Before Rung could even comprehend what they had just said, shadow fell upon him as he was surrounded by the crowd. Most of them kept a distance whereas only a handful got close enough that they could have touched him if they wanted to. Rung clutched his box close to his chest and pressed his back to the wall behind him. He didn't have a single clue about what was going on and why he was being surrounded. Were they angry? Sad? Without his glasses it was impossible to make out any kind of facial expressions and his inability to make sense of their emotions filled him with anxiety. He could barely make out individuals as many of them shared the same paint job, a mix of various shades violet and gold, and the way they moved were confusing to his optics, causing his vision to swim. As Rung desperately tried to figure out a nice way to ask what the frag was going on he overheard some of the things muttered between people.
“He has returned to us, the glorious lord has finally revealed Himself!”
“Glory to holy Primus and His divine form!”
“My spark trembles with joy upon the priveliege of seeing His holy frame!”
“The Rite of Honor must have summoned Him!”
If Rung had felt less confused and out of touch he might have said something, anything really, but the way things were quickly escalating words failed to make it past his throat. Obviously these bots were religious and Rung couldn’t help but feel they had mixed him up with someone else. He couldn’t come up with any other feasible explanation.
“And just WHAT on Caminus is going on here?” a deep voice suddenly exclaimed, much louder than everyone else. The crowd fell silent and turned their heads to face whoever was speaking, a welcome reprieve of attention for Rung. “Well? Why have you stopped the rite?” The speaker sounded impatient. “Don’t you know how important it is for us to pay respect to divine Primus and his holy Primes?” Part of the crowd slowly stepped out of the way until they had formed a path.
Making his way through the crowd was a bot with a white and orange paint job. “Especially now when there’s a Prime on Caminus, a direct link to our most Holy! We need to show our devotion! Really, what could possibly have made all of you act this wa-”. Upon laying his optics on Rung he froze mid step, his hands still in the air. He made a few attempts at speaking. “I-uh-I-you-this is-” His mouth then snapped shut with a resounding clang.
There was a moment of silence that stretched on longer than were comfortable. Rung stared at the crowd of bots. The crowd of bots stared at him. They were waiting for… something. Awkwardly, Rung cleared his throat. “I am terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb… whatever you were doing and I definitely didn't mean to break anything, I just-” He fished out his broken glasses from out of his sub-space and presented them around with one hand, praying that they would explain everything. “My glasses are broken and I can’t see very well without them. I was just wondering if perhaps anyone could help me with directions?”
For a couple of seconds there was no response until the white and orange bot spoke again. Or rather, shouted. “Praise be! Our most holy, the Great Creator, the God of Gods, Primus himself, has appeared before us!” The bot quickly rushed forward until he was but an arms length away from Rung and dropped onto his knees. “All hail Primus!” The rest of the crowd immediately followed suit.
“All hail Primus!” they chanted in unison as they dropped to their knees.
Rung simply stared at them in shock, his optics wide. Yes, this really was one big mix up.