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robothell2015-03-12 02:23 pm
tsunclonus) wrote in robothell2015-03-12 02:23 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] Catch-all Cyclonus Post!
Who: Cyclonus and ANYBODY
Where: Places!
When: Any time after he arrives
What: Cyclonus doing what Cyclonus do
Warnings: Sad robots, LOUD SINGING
A -
Cyclonus watches solemnly as the terminal in the forum plays through it's clip show once again. It's not the history of his Cybertron, but it might as well be. The rise of something beautiful and great and it's slow death in the face of millions of years of war. He had missed the death of his own Cybertron, lost in the Dead Universe, but here was the death of another laid bare to him in a series of scattered images.
Though perhaps not quite dead. Injured, torn, desecrated, but still alive and reaching out. Longing for what it once was. Or perhaps he's just projecting his own longing for his lost shining Cybertron.
Optics darkening, he places a hand on the terminal, as though he can offer it comfort or at least understanding. Then he does what he always does when his longing for his old home grows too much: he sings.
Loudly, fervently, he sings, the Primal Vernacular harsh and gutteral in his Tetrahexian accent. He sings odes to the glory of Cybertron, to its great cities, to Primus and the Guiding Hand. He sings ballads of his people and their deeds before they set about ruining the planet that birthed them.
He sings with all the emotion of one who has known loss; of his home, his friends, everything he held dear. He sings with the pain of one who has known the ache of a wasting death, the sting of betrayal, the guilt of being made to hurt that which you loved most.
It has been a while since he's sung without an audience, having grown used to Tailgate's presence during such moments, his wide, bright optics fixed admiringly on him, sometimes his lighter voice joining Cyclonus's darker in song. Cyclonus feels his absence keenly in this moment, and that too finds its way into his voice.
He will sing until static begins to creep into his voice, and then he will leave. But he'll be back to sing again the next day.
B - Cyclonus takes to the air every day following his arrival. The first time he sought to explore further, sweeping over the surface of this familiar-yet-unfamiliar Cybertron. He hadn't made it far, struck by an irresistible urge to return to the city.
Perhaps it was a malevolent force, trapping them here. But Cyclonus couldn't shake feeling that this Cybertron was simply keeping all of its guests close.
Still, every day he sweeps the skies, testing the limits of how far he can bear to go and keeping an eye out for anything interesting... And a certain someone.
C - Whatever!
OOC: Cyclonus is totally getting all up over the city, so feel free to throw scenarios at me or ask me for a starter or just generally bump into him somewhere!
Where: Places!
When: Any time after he arrives
What: Cyclonus doing what Cyclonus do
Warnings: Sad robots, LOUD SINGING
A -
Cyclonus watches solemnly as the terminal in the forum plays through it's clip show once again. It's not the history of his Cybertron, but it might as well be. The rise of something beautiful and great and it's slow death in the face of millions of years of war. He had missed the death of his own Cybertron, lost in the Dead Universe, but here was the death of another laid bare to him in a series of scattered images.
Though perhaps not quite dead. Injured, torn, desecrated, but still alive and reaching out. Longing for what it once was. Or perhaps he's just projecting his own longing for his lost shining Cybertron.
Optics darkening, he places a hand on the terminal, as though he can offer it comfort or at least understanding. Then he does what he always does when his longing for his old home grows too much: he sings.
Loudly, fervently, he sings, the Primal Vernacular harsh and gutteral in his Tetrahexian accent. He sings odes to the glory of Cybertron, to its great cities, to Primus and the Guiding Hand. He sings ballads of his people and their deeds before they set about ruining the planet that birthed them.
He sings with all the emotion of one who has known loss; of his home, his friends, everything he held dear. He sings with the pain of one who has known the ache of a wasting death, the sting of betrayal, the guilt of being made to hurt that which you loved most.
It has been a while since he's sung without an audience, having grown used to Tailgate's presence during such moments, his wide, bright optics fixed admiringly on him, sometimes his lighter voice joining Cyclonus's darker in song. Cyclonus feels his absence keenly in this moment, and that too finds its way into his voice.
He will sing until static begins to creep into his voice, and then he will leave. But he'll be back to sing again the next day.
B - Cyclonus takes to the air every day following his arrival. The first time he sought to explore further, sweeping over the surface of this familiar-yet-unfamiliar Cybertron. He hadn't made it far, struck by an irresistible urge to return to the city.
Perhaps it was a malevolent force, trapping them here. But Cyclonus couldn't shake feeling that this Cybertron was simply keeping all of its guests close.
Still, every day he sweeps the skies, testing the limits of how far he can bear to go and keeping an eye out for anything interesting... And a certain someone.
C - Whatever!
OOC: Cyclonus is totally getting all up over the city, so feel free to throw scenarios at me or ask me for a starter or just generally bump into him somewhere!
no subject
Truth be told, Miranda had not come here to make some polemic at the expense of the planet and its native populace. Much as she detested being here. It was in her nature to be critical. The proverbial boot attempting to kick things in the right direction for improvement.
"Normally, when we reveal our age we like to shave off a few years."
no subject
"This world has been done a great wrong," he says, then admits, "Perhaps an external presence is needed to undo the damage."
Because Cybertronians are apparently a bunch of ancient babies who need constant supervision.
He gives Miranda a sidelong look. "Are your people embarrassed by experience?" Seriously, why else would you lie about your age.
no subject
She could sympathize with wanting to keep the matter in-house but she had been involved involuntarily so if it meant bringing this diminished shadow of a planet back out of the dark ages she would drag Cybertron kicking and screaming to do it.
At what was a fair assessment, she shrugged.
"Perhaps the horrendously broken nuances of where humans allocate their priorities is a conversation for another time."
no subject
The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. "I suppose all species have their own unique follies."
no subject
Then, spurred by her own curiosity.
"So is there a rough translation?" Beat. "For what you were singing?"
Still felt just short of lying to call that singing.
no subject
"It's hymn," he answers, "A version of the Primal Sacrament, our creation tale. I can recite it for you, if you wish."