Notes Of A Precious One (Volume A1)

CHAPTER 18

Dark red. The whole place was dark red now.

Then suddenly, dark blue.

Amalia opened her eyes and sighed, rubbing her head and tousling her hair until her scalp felt like it had a bad case of dandruff. She was trying to remember, but it seemed like every attempt wasn't giving her back the memories that were supposed to be in those gaps, but filling it with someone else's memories.

But who was that 'someone else'?

Sighing in defeat, she grabbed her laptop and went to one of the local university websites. Might as well as do something else instead of brooding like Batman.

Mission City, luckily, was the kind of place that didn't charge too much in university fees, so she managed to find one that was affordable. It was offering courses in Mechanical Engineering, and...

Writing?

Well, specifically, Foundation In Arts, but that could lead to English Studies, of which would let her qualify as a writer. Amalia put her laptop aside and rummaged in one of the drawers beside her bed. In it was a notebook with a glittery blue cover and a fineliner pen. She uncapped the pen and chewed on the end for awhile, thinking of what to write. This wasn't exactly a book that would qualify as a diary, but she supposed it would have to do for now.

So with a sigh, she wrote:

Dear diary,

These past few days have been pretty weird so far.
I want to say it is probably understandable, given that my parents work closely with the Autobots and thus are frequent targets for the Decepticons, but I can't help but feel its weird nonetheless, especially when they seem to want me the most. They sent one of their shocktroopers - Barricade - after me, trying to get me to give them the 'glasses'...whatever the hell he's babbling about, because I swear I sold nothing on eBay.
Living at base is fine, for now. I don't think I can say anymore until I've lived here for some time. It might be good, or bad. I don't know yet.
At least everyone knows me here.

She stopped there, closed the pen, and rubbed the tapered blue crystal pendant around her neck. She needed answers. Soon.

-

"Is everything okay, Sweetspark"?

"Mm"? Sarissa mumbled, turning to look at her mother, who had just hauled herself up onto the container she sat on.

"You don't seem like yourself", Chromia clarified.

"I'm fine", Sarissa replied, rubbing her face with her servos. "Just thinking about Amalia, is all".

Chromia placed her own small servos on Sarissa's shoulders, briefly admiring the way her daughter's hair caressed them, like leaves brushing against a wall. She could sense that Sarissa wanted to tell her something, but was reluctant to do it now.

And then...

A shrill, cat-like screech, coming from outside.

Both femmes jerked to attention as an explosive shell zoomed through the air and hit a stack of cargo containers, blowing them up and sending coloured metal fragments flying everywhere.

They shared a long look with each other, then ran off to alert the rest of the base.