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)
kismet_loop2015-07-18 07:03 pm
still_learning) wrote in kismet_loop2015-07-18 07:03 pm
Entry tags:
[accidental video]
[It's been a few days since the end of the explosions that have been following him and others throughout the place. Jetstorm wasn't alone during that time, not entirely, but now that it's over, he's getting time to think about what all has happened. Who he was left with, the world he finds himself in now, the idea that they could all find themselves under attack again at any time, for any or no reason at all.]
I am a warrior.
[Where he is now isn't clear, but by the absence of sound in the room but for what Jetstorm himself makes, it's clear he's alone. If his feet could wear a path in the ground walking the same circle over and over, they would. There is no indication for how long he has been walking like this, one end of his nunchucks in each hand as if he thought he might need it. He seems fretful as he argues with himself, and completely oblivious to the little drone close by, silently recording everything.]
I am strong. I am swift.
[His hands lower and he doesn't seem to notice it or care. One hand lets go of a grip to reach up and rub down his face. A few paces later, his other hand goes a little too slack and his weapon goes down to the ground with a clatter. The Minicon looks down at it in horror with a cry.]
Ah! No!
[In a rush, he darts down to retrieve his nunchucks and clutches them in front of him again, grip renewed. One hand pulls into his subspace to retrieve the only other item he has ever carried on his person: a cleaning cloth. With a whimper, he steps over to sit down on a small stool that may or may not have been for a bot his size, or perhaps for a human, and begins to methodically wipe down his weapon from one end to the other, always in small, counter clockwise circles.]
Most humble apologies, Master Drift.
[But his fingers are trembling. He misses spots, only to go back and work over them again.]
I am strong... I am...
[Finally, he gives in and hugs his knees to himself, pinning his nunchucks against him, and shivers.]
I am a warrior.
[Where he is now isn't clear, but by the absence of sound in the room but for what Jetstorm himself makes, it's clear he's alone. If his feet could wear a path in the ground walking the same circle over and over, they would. There is no indication for how long he has been walking like this, one end of his nunchucks in each hand as if he thought he might need it. He seems fretful as he argues with himself, and completely oblivious to the little drone close by, silently recording everything.]
I am strong. I am swift.
[His hands lower and he doesn't seem to notice it or care. One hand lets go of a grip to reach up and rub down his face. A few paces later, his other hand goes a little too slack and his weapon goes down to the ground with a clatter. The Minicon looks down at it in horror with a cry.]
Ah! No!
[In a rush, he darts down to retrieve his nunchucks and clutches them in front of him again, grip renewed. One hand pulls into his subspace to retrieve the only other item he has ever carried on his person: a cleaning cloth. With a whimper, he steps over to sit down on a small stool that may or may not have been for a bot his size, or perhaps for a human, and begins to methodically wipe down his weapon from one end to the other, always in small, counter clockwise circles.]
Most humble apologies, Master Drift.
[But his fingers are trembling. He misses spots, only to go back and work over them again.]
I am strong... I am...
[Finally, he gives in and hugs his knees to himself, pinning his nunchucks against him, and shivers.]
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