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It was, Jazz realized, really quiet.
Battlefields were noisy, with crashes, explosions and yells of those caught in endless cycles of violence and aggression. Even the quietest moments were filled with the loudest whispers of doubt and fear.
This fight was one of the quiet ones, with the voices echoing silently.
Bluestreak sat at the edge of the platform, legs swinging freely over the empty space that lay between the observation deck, and the moons surface below. He had been quiet for more than a cycleand that, Jazz knew, meant there was something wrong.
Sighing, Jazz wandered out onto the platform, and sat next to the silver grey Dautsun making enough noise so that he wouldnt startle the gunner.
The other mech barely glanced at him.
Squiet, Jazz observed, swinging his legs into th
A single command rang out through the warm summer air, and Jazz froze.
Synapses and relays protested briefly at the sudden halt, but held. One foot remained precariously in mid-air, where he had been taking a running step forward when the cue to stop had been called. The other was solidly on the organic surface, creating a curiously pleasant odor, where the liquids from within the vegetation and dirt were creating their own perfume.
This was what summer was like on the lovely little planet called Earth, and this was, as Optimus had said, one of the most important missions that any of the Autobots could have been assigned. Jazz possessed the required skills, and was most likely to succeed-- so off he went.
Ungainly. Clumsy. He could be a statue, for all that he was moving, and yet, a light evening breeze tickled grass against the sensors in his leg.
Flights-- Inside PerspectiveThis contains a slight spoiler for Flights of Angels, as well as another point of view that will probably not make it to the final draft. You have been warned!
Chimera sat quietly among the flowers on the short stretch of grass next to the beach, as she watched the insects floating on the summer breeze.
Butterflies, someone had told her. A favorite example of beauty and fragility to these earth creatures. Delicate and fragile, she could understand. Shed already killed three of them trying to get a closer look.
She couldnt see beauty however. They were just ugly organic worms with some crazily colored membranes on them. Even the colors were garishly ugly.
It was a concept that slipped away, every time she attempted to grasp it.
Her legs were stretched out in front of her, perfectly still in the gouges that her jets had made in the dry soil. Chim
One Too Many***
A half an hours work, and Jazz was done.
It hadnt been a particularly complicated system, if one went by the standards of the Decepticon empire, or even Red Alerts exacting methods of security. All Jazz had to do was know the minds that created it.
Settling back into a comfortable chair next to one of Teletran Ones auxiliary terminals, he smiled, checking through a few routine reports, eying a concert date that coincided with one of the mission briefing sessions... That was going to be difficult.
Jazz had gotten about halfway through the reports when one of Teletrans internal alarms registered weapons discharge in the crew quarters. Less than a minute later came the incoherent yell over broadband radio.
It was loud enough to make him flinch, and was followed by a string of curses that would make most Autobots heck, it would make most Decepticons cr
Between the sand and the sky He was being consumed by fire and ice.
Only the fire wasn't as hot as it should be as it caressed his face, and arms. The ice kept taunting him, tickling his feet and back.
It was actually pleasant.
And he made no effort to move away from either. Motion brought the rolling sickness again-- the half memories of being as helpless as a child's toy, tumbled around and striking against hard objects.
What had he been doing?
Did it matter?
The soft hush-hush-hush nearby lulled him back towards the slumber that he'd just awakened from, the sharp cries that rose above the soft-deafening sound were not panicked, and did not trigger the urge to get up and find out what was going on.
He was... comfortable, despite the fine grit that seemed to be working its way into his joints.
A Silent Dance***
Yin and Yang.
Light and dark.
Male and female.
The stars dont dance in their stationary patterns, for they have no music.
The length of time that they spent apart was far longer than the stolen minutes that they had together. Sometimes the ache was more than either could stand, and the few hours were spent in each others company, not speaking, just being.
There had been talk, long ago of just leaving their respective positions, fleeing to somewhere that the loneliness couldnt touch them, where it would be just the two of them. They could be together, for as long as they lived, and when one died, the other would know. And then, later, quietly join the one who had passed on before.
But there were obligations. There were friends. There were loyalties to ideals and, as always, there
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More