Jetstorm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
still_learning) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
robothell2015-08-09 01:14 pm
still_learning) wrote in robothell2015-08-09 01:14 pm
yep this is a thing
Who: Jetstorm, open but limited (plz discuss with me first)
Where: Just about ANYWHUR
When: During/after the event
What: The EVENT
Warnings: This is limited for a reason. Mini's experiences with this sort of thing have not been good and he isn't going to be affected, so he'll pull nunchucks on anyone who comes at him looking for luvvins. Cuddles might do, but he's going to be wary. Caution is advised.
The first day he noticed the flowers appear, Jetstorm didn't quite know what to think of them. He had seen an organic version of the flora on Earth and thought them beautiful. Cybertron had never seen such color, and the scents they gave off, while peculiar, were not offensive to him. Certainly they weren't to the native wildlife or the humans. Earth had a way about it that made him miss it something fierce, after having lived on war-torn Cybertron again for the short time he had. It reminded him too much of the streets and the gang he had worked for in the name of false justice, so for the sake of a change in things, he'd taken one of the flowers to his room to lighten the mood of it all.
He'd noticed the pollen floating off of it, but to him, it only served as an amusement, something to bat away playfully while he laid on his back at night under the broken desk, staring up at the dull dark of his four walls. There was a light he had managed to salvage not long after he arrived, but the pollen's soft glow added a touch to the room that he found he liked better.
Two days later, he threw the flower out in a hurry. It started with odd sounds from some of the others, sounds that put a squeeze on his spark in a bad way, and a lot of them to boot. The first incident he had come across sounded like someone might have been in pain, and in his want to help them, he had foolishly rushed closer. A few seconds of shock later, his feet had him bolting from the scene. The second incident, he took to with more caution and less haste. By the third time - in the same day - he had given up his salvage venture and gone home.
Something had come over most of the residents on Cybertron. It took him time before he thought of pinning the cause on the appearance of the flowers, and then he thought to go out and take on the nigh-impossible task of destroying at least the ones immediately around his home building, for all the good that would do him. Beautiful though they were, he wouldn't be able to face the effects they had on the others, though it curiously seemed to have no effect on him. And besides, the one he had picked had already stemmed three more new blossoms to replace it. He would not be able to wipe them out without hurting his own cause.
Locking himself in his room seemed the next best thing to do, but he would have to leave eventually. He could not stay forever. Then the thought occurred to him that his was not a unique situation. Maybe others had not been affected. Maybe others were unwilling to partake in the effects these new plants had on them.
So Jetstorm decided to venture out again, swallowing his fear - and he was afraid. Of friends, of foes, of the plants. But he had his weapon. He was a warrior. And he could do this. At least, he could try.
Where: Just about ANYWHUR
When: During/after the event
What: The EVENT
Warnings: This is limited for a reason. Mini's experiences with this sort of thing have not been good and he isn't going to be affected, so he'll pull nunchucks on anyone who comes at him looking for luvvins. Cuddles might do, but he's going to be wary. Caution is advised.
The first day he noticed the flowers appear, Jetstorm didn't quite know what to think of them. He had seen an organic version of the flora on Earth and thought them beautiful. Cybertron had never seen such color, and the scents they gave off, while peculiar, were not offensive to him. Certainly they weren't to the native wildlife or the humans. Earth had a way about it that made him miss it something fierce, after having lived on war-torn Cybertron again for the short time he had. It reminded him too much of the streets and the gang he had worked for in the name of false justice, so for the sake of a change in things, he'd taken one of the flowers to his room to lighten the mood of it all.
He'd noticed the pollen floating off of it, but to him, it only served as an amusement, something to bat away playfully while he laid on his back at night under the broken desk, staring up at the dull dark of his four walls. There was a light he had managed to salvage not long after he arrived, but the pollen's soft glow added a touch to the room that he found he liked better.
Two days later, he threw the flower out in a hurry. It started with odd sounds from some of the others, sounds that put a squeeze on his spark in a bad way, and a lot of them to boot. The first incident he had come across sounded like someone might have been in pain, and in his want to help them, he had foolishly rushed closer. A few seconds of shock later, his feet had him bolting from the scene. The second incident, he took to with more caution and less haste. By the third time - in the same day - he had given up his salvage venture and gone home.
Something had come over most of the residents on Cybertron. It took him time before he thought of pinning the cause on the appearance of the flowers, and then he thought to go out and take on the nigh-impossible task of destroying at least the ones immediately around his home building, for all the good that would do him. Beautiful though they were, he wouldn't be able to face the effects they had on the others, though it curiously seemed to have no effect on him. And besides, the one he had picked had already stemmed three more new blossoms to replace it. He would not be able to wipe them out without hurting his own cause.
Locking himself in his room seemed the next best thing to do, but he would have to leave eventually. He could not stay forever. Then the thought occurred to him that his was not a unique situation. Maybe others had not been affected. Maybe others were unwilling to partake in the effects these new plants had on them.
So Jetstorm decided to venture out again, swallowing his fear - and he was afraid. Of friends, of foes, of the plants. But he had his weapon. He was a warrior. And he could do this. At least, he could try.
no subject
At least now she knows more about what the flowers do. Good job, little nerd.