Slipstream (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chickscream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
robothell2015-02-19 08:11 pm
chickscream) wrote in robothell2015-02-19 08:11 pm
Entry tags:
ready for nothing [open]
Who: Slipstream, her confusion, and YOU!
Where: A ruined, empty street or sky.
When: RIGHT NOW
What: Intro/bafflement post
Warnings: A snarky angry seeker lady who hates her dad
A.
Slipstream was already ready to go home.
Oh, sure, Detroit wasn't that great, and she'd spent a lot of time dodging under the radar and swinging across the lake to Canada (where the Autobots never set their feet, for some reason), but it was all the home she had ever known in her own right, besides her brief stint on Earth's moon.
Her memories of other homes weren't her own, and she ignored them as best as she could, ignored the echoing deja-vu of these streets. It looked like... a place Starscream had known, once, but torn apart and ravaged, like in the wake of a battle; it looked like no place she had ever been, and the stars were arrayed in shapes unknown to her optics.
Pressed back against a wall and with her optics narrowed, Slipstream was just about ready to jump out of her plating and shoot the first thing that surprised her.
B.
Taking to the skies, Slipstream circled tightly in jet mode, taking in the view.
She hadn't even realized how much she liked greenery until there was none, how lively organics were until she was in a place of metal and gears.
Unsettled, she braked and switched back to her more customary form, hovering and looking over the city. It spread further than Detroit ever did, pocked with craters and destruction-- a wholly inhospitable-looking place, in her opinion, and probably no fun to get back home from.
"Sparks, this place is awful," she tells the air, and swoops down over the city looking for more signs of life-- familiar or otherwise, she doesn't care, as long as it's not Starscream himself-- beyond whoever greeted her first. If someone wanted to hail her down to the ground, she'd go, no matter who; and if someone wants to come up and bother her, she'll probably not shoot them.
Where: A ruined, empty street or sky.
When: RIGHT NOW
What: Intro/bafflement post
Warnings: A snarky angry seeker lady who hates her dad
A.
Slipstream was already ready to go home.
Oh, sure, Detroit wasn't that great, and she'd spent a lot of time dodging under the radar and swinging across the lake to Canada (where the Autobots never set their feet, for some reason), but it was all the home she had ever known in her own right, besides her brief stint on Earth's moon.
Her memories of other homes weren't her own, and she ignored them as best as she could, ignored the echoing deja-vu of these streets. It looked like... a place Starscream had known, once, but torn apart and ravaged, like in the wake of a battle; it looked like no place she had ever been, and the stars were arrayed in shapes unknown to her optics.
Pressed back against a wall and with her optics narrowed, Slipstream was just about ready to jump out of her plating and shoot the first thing that surprised her.
B.
Taking to the skies, Slipstream circled tightly in jet mode, taking in the view.
She hadn't even realized how much she liked greenery until there was none, how lively organics were until she was in a place of metal and gears.
Unsettled, she braked and switched back to her more customary form, hovering and looking over the city. It spread further than Detroit ever did, pocked with craters and destruction-- a wholly inhospitable-looking place, in her opinion, and probably no fun to get back home from.
"Sparks, this place is awful," she tells the air, and swoops down over the city looking for more signs of life-- familiar or otherwise, she doesn't care, as long as it's not Starscream himself-- beyond whoever greeted her first. If someone wanted to hail her down to the ground, she'd go, no matter who; and if someone wants to come up and bother her, she'll probably not shoot them.
no subject
"You have my sincerest condolences."
Was he being honest? Sarcastic? His tone was so flat, it was a little hard to tell. His expression didn't have any malice or condescension in it though.
"If you're willing to deal with having a remote off switch, terrible hours and a lot of isolation, I think you'll enjoy my job."