I've been struggling with this since I got home from BotCon, and I'm by far not happy with it, but any improvements just seem to make it worse. Sorry D: *hides under a rock*
--
Cybertron was disturbingly quiet.
Before the war, Cybertron as a whole was a noisy, bustling planet, the atmosphere filled with constant tones, static, notes, music, and transmissions all being fired from mech to mech, femme to femme, throughout all breems and kliks of the orn. Those noises were accompanied by the telltale roars of many different models and varieties of engines as citizens weaved their way through the towering buildings and each other to go about their, at the time, peaceful lives.
Now, Cybertron was as quiet as space itself - no music, no voices on the air, no engines rumbling. There was not even the soft noise of static to be heard - all the radio towers which may have once fueled it were destroyed long ago. The silence was eerie, unnerving, and depressing.
The only positive aspect was that, with such encompassing silence, it was impossible to not hear when someone was approaching from behind.
When he heard the first step, Jazz lifted his head from where he had been staring down toward the broken city streets far below where he and the other Autobots were recouping. When the steps only grew closer, Jazz turned to face the newcomer. He expected Prowl, Ratchet, or Kup - maybe even Trailbreaker or Blaster - but he could not fully hide a slight flicker of his visor in surprise when he identified who approached him.
"Figured you could use a break," Tracks' said, his smooth voice flowing easily through the choking silence. "You've been out here almost six cycles. Everybody's had a quick recharge but you."
"I'm fine," Jazz assured him with a dismissive wave of one hand. "I'd rather be out here keepin' watch than in there worryin' about everythin' else." He turned back to the balcony then glanced to his side when he saw blue and white at the edge of his vision.
"Mind if I join you then?" Tracks asked. "Prowl and Kup don't have anything for me to do, and I've got too much pent up energy to go offline."
"Be my guest - two sets of optics're better than one, yeah?" Jazz grinned as his tone of voice turned gently teasing. "'Course, 'ya could just go tell the others another story. Get their spirits back up again." His grin widened just a little when his comment earned him a soft, embarrassed noise from the red-faced mech.
"I'm afraid I burned out my one good story already," Tracks responded with a small grin of his own. He lifted his head to gaze at the sky. "I'm just glad it helped. So many of them were ready to give up and walk away - all I did was remind them that they're Autobots, and Autobots stick together to the end."
Jazz nodded and leaned forward against the edge of the balcony again to return his gaze to the streets below. "S'a good thing to remind them of, especially now."
"I know." Tracks' attention drifted back to his white companion as his own grin widened. "After all, you're the one who taught me that."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
1/2
Date: 2009-06-18 03:04 am (UTC)--
Cybertron was disturbingly quiet.
Before the war, Cybertron as a whole was a noisy, bustling planet, the atmosphere filled with constant tones, static, notes, music, and transmissions all being fired from mech to mech, femme to femme, throughout all breems and kliks of the orn. Those noises were accompanied by the telltale roars of many different models and varieties of engines as citizens weaved their way through the towering buildings and each other to go about their, at the time, peaceful lives.
Now, Cybertron was as quiet as space itself - no music, no voices on the air, no engines rumbling. There was not even the soft noise of static to be heard - all the radio towers which may have once fueled it were destroyed long ago. The silence was eerie, unnerving, and depressing.
The only positive aspect was that, with such encompassing silence, it was impossible to not hear when someone was approaching from behind.
When he heard the first step, Jazz lifted his head from where he had been staring down toward the broken city streets far below where he and the other Autobots were recouping. When the steps only grew closer, Jazz turned to face the newcomer. He expected Prowl, Ratchet, or Kup - maybe even Trailbreaker or Blaster - but he could not fully hide a slight flicker of his visor in surprise when he identified who approached him.
"Figured you could use a break," Tracks' said, his smooth voice flowing easily through the choking silence. "You've been out here almost six cycles. Everybody's had a quick recharge but you."
"I'm fine," Jazz assured him with a dismissive wave of one hand. "I'd rather be out here keepin' watch than in there worryin' about everythin' else." He turned back to the balcony then glanced to his side when he saw blue and white at the edge of his vision.
"Mind if I join you then?" Tracks asked. "Prowl and Kup don't have anything for me to do, and I've got too much pent up energy to go offline."
"Be my guest - two sets of optics're better than one, yeah?" Jazz grinned as his tone of voice turned gently teasing. "'Course, 'ya could just go tell the others another story. Get their spirits back up again." His grin widened just a little when his comment earned him a soft, embarrassed noise from the red-faced mech.
"I'm afraid I burned out my one good story already," Tracks responded with a small grin of his own. He lifted his head to gaze at the sky. "I'm just glad it helped. So many of them were ready to give up and walk away - all I did was remind them that they're Autobots, and Autobots stick together to the end."
Jazz nodded and leaned forward against the edge of the balcony again to return his gaze to the streets below. "S'a good thing to remind them of, especially now."
"I know." Tracks' attention drifted back to his white companion as his own grin widened. "After all, you're the one who taught me that."