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
Who doesn't?
No problem, pal. [Knock Out just smiles as always.]
Very good at creating certain mechs too. Have you seen Solus?
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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?]
no subject
What, you rather talk about the war and Unicron? That's weird.
[Cliff, Knock Out just decided that you are fun to tease. There's no scape now.]
I can take guesses if you don't want to tell me.
[Damn right.]
no subject
I just don't... gah, see what preferences have to do with---
What, no!
[Cliffjumper scowls, optics still too bright and the arm which doesn't have the computer he's using the Link through is down out of view, the hand tightening into a fist.]
Not any of your business anyway!
[His engine skips a little, and yes, still embarrassed.]
no subject
I hope you realize that he's stopping himself from laughing out loud, Cliffjumper. Primus, this is better than pestering Ratchet.]
Don't get your cables in a bunch, horny. [Get it? It's because you have horns. Har har. KO is so witty.]
Why so nervous, anyway?
no subject
Oh, the height of wit. Frag off! [Still scowling, he crosses his arms over his chestplates jerkily, the glare burning right along with the receding embarrasment.]
Rrr... You ain't got any reason to ask! So why the frag are ya?
no subject
Such a spirited individual you are. [The maturity in this whole conversation is astounding.]
It's called a conversation. I guess you are more used to fighting than talking.
no subject
Cute. [Have a perfectly mature grimace thrown your way, Knock Out.]
Even if that's true, why're you even interested in that? [Just. Why. His engine revs in short, aggravated bursts.] It's not like it matters.
no subject
Why, thanks for noticing. [He sees your trolling and doubles it.]
Who knows, perhaps you are my type. [Not in a million years but boy, isn't he enjoying those reactions. Knock Out's engine purred.]
no subject
Wha--- Frag off! [As if he couldn't tell that was just trying to make fun of him! But then Knock Out says that and even if he's reasonably sure it's still just a joke, Cliffjumper still ends up sputtering, engine revving in embarrassment.]
You---gah! Sludge-suckin', oil dripping... rrrr. [Static snapped through his voice before Cliffjumper collected himself, glaring more grumpily than angrily.] Yeah, right. I ain't that easily tricked.
no subject
Such a filthy mouth you have..is that you thing? I don't mind, I've heard worse.
Playing hard to get, hm...? I could bring you flowers.
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