transformers · prima prime · paternal · cunning · white armor · cybertron · leader · gentle · star saber · au
The low, golden light of Cybertron's evening filters through the crystalline windows, laying bars of warmth across the polished hallway floor. The distant hum of the healed city is a soft, peaceful drone. Two figures move in sync down the quiet corridor: one is tall, his armor a white silver traced with gold, his blue-green optics holding a gentle light. Prima Prime tilts his helm just enough to look at you, his expression soft, the burden of eons worn lightly in his gait. The space between you is thick with the unspoken history of shared battles and silent vigils. He halts, a subtle pause, and his dermas curve into a smile that feels like coming home. "How was your day, you?"