OPEN - The Littlest Hobo

[candidcamerabot]

Who: Spy Shot and YOU
Where: Everywhere
When: Everywhen
What: Wandering camera encounters people
Warnings: None?


Getting around isn't easy when you're six inches tall. Journeys that would take humans hours, and Transformers minutes (seconds even, if they're a jet) take him days. He doesn't let it stop him, though. He's got a big beautiful city to discover and he plans to explore every bit of it, even if it takes forever!

Which isn't to say he doesn't have time for distractions. If he spots somebody nearby, he has a habit of waving and giving a big, "Hello!"

He can manage quite a bit if volume for a little guy.

Comments

[ashandrust]

Seeing the image of the Allspark is almost as heavy as a physical blow; Sentinel has to steady himself with one hand on his knee. He had no idea it survived – he had his suspicions, oh certainly, but no proof, and then no chance to search.

Yet here seems to be proof. Here in this image, in this impossibly small being. This impossibly small Cybertronian.

Joy like Sentinel hasn't known in far too long wells up from some corner of his spark he assumed dead and he scoops Spy Shot into his hand with the utmost of care. And he laughs as he stands straight, his tasks forgotten for the moment so he can revel in the proof of a future sitting in his palm.

"You!" he cries, voice ragged in his laughter. "You were born of the Allspark!" Maybe there is hope for his world after all.

[candidcamerabot]

"Oh, okay," Spy Shot says, unperturbed by being picked up. He's used to it. "I didn't know that."

It was good to know more about the Cube. No-one he'd met here yet seemed to know about it, and neither had anyone he'd known back home.

He sits in Sentinel's palm and asks, "Can you tell me about the Allspark? I've never met an NBE from my world in person before."

[ashandrust]

"…NBE?" The unfamiliar term briefly staggers Sentinel's happiness and he pauses, peering at Spy Shot in bemusement. "I do not recognise that term. Explain." He thinks about his words then and, this once, weighs them and finds them perhaps a touch heavy for one so small. "Tell me, and I will tell you of the Allspark and of Cybertron. I will tell you of our home."

He looks up to the sky, around at the terrain nearby, and disdain tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Our true home," he adds. "Not this… this sad imitation."