Cliffjumper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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re_alignment2013-03-31 06:48 pm
cliffjumper) wrote in re_alignment2013-03-31 06:48 pm
Entry tags:
[Video] | Vector Prime's temple | Ever wanted to know about Unicron?
Okay, so... [The feed comes on at the same time as those few words are spoken, Cliffjumper sitting leaned back in a chair - the standard one for the desk in the rooms they're given. There's a frown on his faceplates but really... it's there to hide his being uncomfortable, not because he's particularly annoyed or torqued.]
We've all been told Unicron's behind all this slag, right? [Vague little handwave.] I suppose that ain't really gonna tell most of ya anythin' unless you've actually seen him, and since that isn't really safe...
[Cliffjumper trails off momentarily, shifts in his seat and then shrugs. If it was just the matter of people not believeing it, he wouldn't care, just punch the glitches who made fun of him (which he'd done a few times). But since Unicron - or its powers, rather, affected them here, it seemed like an idea to show why it should be taken seriously. Being told it "ate reality" didn't mean much in bare words, really.]
Gonna share a bit of memory with you. The quality ain't gonna be the best, 'cause I wasn't exactly at my best at that point, but it ought to be serviceable.
[There's something of an awkward pause, but Cliffjumper's not going to wait for anyone to chime in or detract and throw off his groove here, so suddenly the video cuts out, only to immediately be replaced by a slightly wobbling view of a ruined street on Cybertron. There's static at the edges, but nothing bad.
In fact, the worst noises in the feed are two; the screeching, rattling tearing of metal being shorn apart, echoing too much to have any particular direction, though that sound soon drops in intensity as the feed stabilises and Cliffjumper stops moving for a moment, dialling down his audio receptors.
That, however, is doing nothing for the other noise.
A noise which isn't really a noise, but nonetheless vibrates right along the memory being played up, underlaying everything. Even those not cybertronian would be able to pick up on a faint sense of certainty, of end. Not just death made into noise, but something more absolute, the negation of matter.
The wobbling movement starts up again, down the street, around a corner, around a building and then.
Stop.
There's a brief waver in the recording, and if this memory had been shared more personally and not over the Link, the transfer would suddenly have been swamped by fear. Then shame for feeling it, and fear again. As it is, Cliffjumper gets to keep that part for himself.
The view tilts slowly upwards, continuing upwards and whatever that is it's huge, the static at the edges briefly strengthening before clearing. Perhaps unwantedly so.
"---been most disappointed if the meat of my ancient enemy was anything but succulent!" That's as much a noise and not-noise as the shearing vibration which still underlies the memory; in fact, the thrumming voice tangles with it, strengthens it, and the view tilts a little, the edge of the building Cliffjumper rounded
visible at the corner as he ends up leaning against it.
Staring.
Because this being isn't just the size of a planet, isn't merely towering up in the air and literally standing on Cybertron as a giant hand descends and tears out a handful of metal and unfortunate mechs who didn't have time to flee to summarily put that handful into his mouth...
It's vaster than that, followed by an oppressive knowledge that even through a straight recording over the Link somehow is transferred that the physical shape is just suggestion, is merely the container of something far larger, something far hungrier and it's not just the metal of Cybertron which is being consumed here.
Another handful. What is being lost here can't be regained.
"---Fight! Fi--" That shout, terrible enough on its own, when followed by a scream that makes the air crumple, the view of the memory fizzle into static and blackness.
It comes back to light.
Unicron's face, the violently green optics wide, staring at a tiny speck of incandesence which can't really be translated. Briefly, that terrible vibration from earlier is eased. Left behind is nothing but soothing stillness, and Unicron reaches---
The view tilts as Cliffjumper slides down against the wall he's leaning against, and then goes black.]
... Uhm, yeah. Best I've got.
[Enjoy Cliffjumper's rather defensive growl and the scowl on his faceplates as now takes the place of then.]
We've all been told Unicron's behind all this slag, right? [Vague little handwave.] I suppose that ain't really gonna tell most of ya anythin' unless you've actually seen him, and since that isn't really safe...
[Cliffjumper trails off momentarily, shifts in his seat and then shrugs. If it was just the matter of people not believeing it, he wouldn't care, just punch the glitches who made fun of him (which he'd done a few times). But since Unicron - or its powers, rather, affected them here, it seemed like an idea to show why it should be taken seriously. Being told it "ate reality" didn't mean much in bare words, really.]
Gonna share a bit of memory with you. The quality ain't gonna be the best, 'cause I wasn't exactly at my best at that point, but it ought to be serviceable.
[There's something of an awkward pause, but Cliffjumper's not going to wait for anyone to chime in or detract and throw off his groove here, so suddenly the video cuts out, only to immediately be replaced by a slightly wobbling view of a ruined street on Cybertron. There's static at the edges, but nothing bad.
In fact, the worst noises in the feed are two; the screeching, rattling tearing of metal being shorn apart, echoing too much to have any particular direction, though that sound soon drops in intensity as the feed stabilises and Cliffjumper stops moving for a moment, dialling down his audio receptors.
That, however, is doing nothing for the other noise.
A noise which isn't really a noise, but nonetheless vibrates right along the memory being played up, underlaying everything. Even those not cybertronian would be able to pick up on a faint sense of certainty, of end. Not just death made into noise, but something more absolute, the negation of matter.
The wobbling movement starts up again, down the street, around a corner, around a building and then.
Stop.
There's a brief waver in the recording, and if this memory had been shared more personally and not over the Link, the transfer would suddenly have been swamped by fear. Then shame for feeling it, and fear again. As it is, Cliffjumper gets to keep that part for himself.
The view tilts slowly upwards, continuing upwards and whatever that is it's huge, the static at the edges briefly strengthening before clearing. Perhaps unwantedly so.
"---been most disappointed if the meat of my ancient enemy was anything but succulent!" That's as much a noise and not-noise as the shearing vibration which still underlies the memory; in fact, the thrumming voice tangles with it, strengthens it, and the view tilts a little, the edge of the building Cliffjumper rounded
visible at the corner as he ends up leaning against it.
Staring.
Because this being isn't just the size of a planet, isn't merely towering up in the air and literally standing on Cybertron as a giant hand descends and tears out a handful of metal and unfortunate mechs who didn't have time to flee to summarily put that handful into his mouth...
It's vaster than that, followed by an oppressive knowledge that even through a straight recording over the Link somehow is transferred that the physical shape is just suggestion, is merely the container of something far larger, something far hungrier and it's not just the metal of Cybertron which is being consumed here.
Another handful. What is being lost here can't be regained.
"---Fight! Fi--" That shout, terrible enough on its own, when followed by a scream that makes the air crumple, the view of the memory fizzle into static and blackness.
It comes back to light.
Unicron's face, the violently green optics wide, staring at a tiny speck of incandesence which can't really be translated. Briefly, that terrible vibration from earlier is eased. Left behind is nothing but soothing stillness, and Unicron reaches---
The view tilts as Cliffjumper slides down against the wall he's leaning against, and then goes black.]
... Uhm, yeah. Best I've got.
[Enjoy Cliffjumper's rather defensive growl and the scowl on his faceplates as now takes the place of then.]
no subject
Sure, could've worked, but for anyone who ain't got a clue what Unicron is, puppets would be as descriptive as words.
[He snorts slightly; and then it'd just have been another "Unicron is terrible" description, without a handy show of HOW or WHY.]
And it's worse when size an' ego matches the power.
no subject
Some bots really have no imagination, shame on them.
[People gets influenced by Unicron here in a daily bases, they should get a good idea of WHY is he terrible.]
You don't have to tell me. I'm Knock Out.
no subject
Big thing like this, it's kinda hard gettin' it until you actually see it.
[Which was why he did it like this, since it seemed like it could be helpful and it would actually matter. Otherwise he'd have kept it to himself.
Then he pauses, eyeing Knock Out, but luckily for KO, the designation tells him nothing.]
You've dealt with somethin' relating to Unicron before, then? I'm Cliffjumper.
no subject
It's not something easy to believe because lot of mech doesn't even want to think about the fridge horror that implies livign in a world were Unicron's existence is a proved fact.
[Apparently, Knock Out's is unique among universes.] Cliffjumper? Not the one from my world. I can tell.
no subject
Huh, suppose that's true. But at least where ya know Unicron exists, the same goes for Primus.
[And that, for him at least, is pretty reassuring.]
What, what gave it away? [One part snark, one part curiosity, even if he knows at least partly what it is besides the difference in design; the other Cliffjumper present is... well. Rather easily social?
And don't get too much of an ego about that yet, Knock Out. There are other versions, just none here!]
no subject
True. He's more discrete than Unicron, though.
[He can match that snark very well.] Oh jsut a few simple things. The height difference, body build, the fact that I talked to him the others day...You also look pretty alive for a dead guy.
[Lies and slander, he's unique~]
no subject
And I dunno, maybe a few sparkly tears at the corners of your optics would improve ya even more. [Have some more snark, even if they can't really cry in the same way humans do.]
And less likely to destroy all of reality as well. [Cliffjumper just snorts then, waving a hand dismissively at Knock Out from his end of the feed, leaning back more in his seat.]
It's not that much. [Huff.] And contrary to some of my alternates I've never died. [Except for possibly in the original timeline his is a splinter universe from, but shhh, he doesn't know.]
no subject
I promise the next time something horrible happens I will cry a little bit just for you. [Knock Out knows they can't, it doesn't stop him from joking aobut it either.]
Primus wouldn't be Primus is he did that, don't you think? There's a reason why he's the creator.
[The medic chuckles.] Don't get offended, In on the smaller size. Not dying is always a plus. [If he doesn't know that it doesn't count.]
no subject
Whatever. And I kinda like myself alive, yeah.
And I'll treasure and appreciate it when it happens. [This time he does roll his optics... or rather, the equivalent off, tossing an angled glance down at the ground.]
Deity of light and creation, yeah, I know.
no subject
Who doesn't?
No problem, pal. [Knock Out just smiles as always.]
Very good at creating certain mechs too. Have you seen Solus?
no subject
Uh-huh. [Have a dry stare, which goes into slightly confused as Knock Out mention Solus.]
Uh... yeah, I have. What'd you mean? [She's like any other mech, isn't she, except for the curves and that's still odd to Cliffjumper.]
no subject
[Seriously Cliff? Knock Out is stoppign himself form chuckles.]
She has a really nice frame.
no subject
Nothin' ya saw much at all... er, where I'm from. Only recently they became a shade more... erm, usual?
[It's still strange, okay? He keeps thinking of human women, which is just silly.]
no subject
What do you mean with that? [He¡s not following, pal.]
[To Knock Out it's just another frame type.]
no subject
Well, uh. I know they're kinda usual in other realities, but in mine, I can't ever remember seein' one until recently. Might have been one or two around earlier, but... that's it.
[Another shrug.]
no subject
[What's so wrong with hammers? You are a weird bot, Cliff.]
no subject
No. I mean that frametype in general. Not what type of fraggin' weapons they do or don't prefer!
no subject
Ah, that. it's a common frametype in my world, I can't see what's wrong with it. You should see Insecticons. Now those are disgusting.
no subject
Nothin' wrong with it, just... not at all usual. And what's wrong with the Insecticons? [Have an blank, non-comprehending loook.] They look like any other mech, just... transform into mechanical bugs...
[Which is odd, but not particularly disgusting.]
no subject
Strange. They are brainless, disgusting, beasts. In my world at least. They live in hives too.
no subject
That's differences between realities for ya, I suppose.
[He shrugs and grimaces a little.]<7small>
no subject
Pretty much. You guys don't know what you are missing.
no subject
... Why'd we be missin' anything just 'cause that frame-type ain't been around at all or much until recently?
[Just. flat, confused stare.]
no subject
You need more imagination.
So, what's your kind of frame type? [Knock Out likes big mechs with nice waists.]
no subject
Yeah, yeah, whatever--- [And that? That's the sound of Cliffjumper's engine sputtering and his optics flare.]
Wha-- Why'd you even want to... what does this have to do with anything?!
[Have a bit of a flail.
Big mechs, big engines, huh, Knock Out?]
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