kismet_loop | [accidental video]

Entry tags:

tf: rid | jetstorm

[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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Nothin' like a sweet custom ride. Sometimes she misses her old suburban, but she's grown very fond of the stree'doo---it's perfect for Haven's perpetual summer.]

Closing in on 'completely,' too. [She grins, shaking Jetstorm's hand---her right is inked up, so he'll get a good look.] They're tattoos, though I guess the word might not mean much to someone without skin.

[He blinks those big, blue optics of his and adjusts them a little to really get a look.]

Fascinating. Are humans in your world born with these? These patterns are very intricate.

Thank you. And no, no, they're acquired. Skin has a couple of layers, you see? [She'll turn her hand so that Jetstorm can better see the its nails, and point to the cuticles.] Or, at least, you can kind of see. Tattoos are made by puncturing it to insert pigment underneath the first layer, to make a design. When the punctures heal up, the pigment's... basically encapsulated where it's embedded in the tissue, so there's a practically permanent mark.

[So curious.]

The whole process sounds painful, but it is beautiful.

[And now he's looking at the rest of her, that he can see, without circling her, though he does point to her neck, specifically at her shirt collar. He'd like to look under that, to see where it all goes and what the rest of it looks like, but he wouldn't presume to touch without permission.]

And it looks extensive. Why do you cover it? [He never understood human clothing anyway.]

[Okay, that clear curiosity is endearing---and appreciated, both for itself and the opportunity it presents. Cybertronians have generally been good sports about answering all of Sam's questions, so it's... nice to be able to return the favour.]

It does hurt, but not too bad---and besides, it's more than worth it.

[Smiling, she'll spread her hands as Jetstorm inspects her. She's picked up a few pieces since arriving in Haven, courtesy of Paian, but even before, her sheet music had spread over some sixty percent of her skin.]

It is. [And she chuckles.] And the answer to that is kind of complicated, but most Earth cultures have a taboo against being out and about with certain parts of the body uncovered. I cover as much as do mostly because I'm just used to dressing in this style when there's no reason to dress differently, but...

[Sam shrugs, and pulls off her tee since the sports bra she's wearing is only or even less revealing than the top of your average two-piece bathing suit.]

I've got no issue with wearing a little less.

[Those arms go wide and he blinks at her, making sure this is allowed before going to the hand he had before and looking all upons.]

Clothing is strange to me, but your sun can be harsh on human skin and you do not have thick fur to keep warm in the winter. It does not seem necessary all the time, like with your tattoos.

[Oh. And there went the shirt. And wow. Now he will circle her, slowly, taking his time to look at each line.]

Thank you. There is so much of this covered. It seems such a waste to hide this when you went through pain to achieve it. [One hand goes to the edge of her bra to try and pull it down over her shoulder at the strap, to see more of what's there.] What does it all say? I do not understand the language.

Thank you for your interest.

[She'll shrug again and take hold of the strap to slide it down, briefly. She's attended a couple of conventions, appeared in a couple of albums; this is par for the course, setting aside.]

Sometimes, I get to show it off, but while that's fun, it doesn't matter too too much because I got all these songs for myself. It's all songs---musical notation for the melodies. Like... [She touches the tips of her fingers to her upper arm, left side, and hums a snatch of Greensleeves.]

[She's not really helping his curiosity here. At all. He doesn't recognize what she's humming and he can't read the music like she can, but it still has his awe all the same.]

[He circles her again and goes back to the hand he'd held before.]

Can you teach me to read this, or does the library have instructions for it?

How's 'both' grab you? I can teach you the basics, and the library'll have examples of stuff I don't.

Then, I will take it into my studies.

[He stops himself there with a look, like something just occurred to him, and looks up at her.] Does this language appear anywhere else? I would like to learn, but it may take time, and I would be hesitant to ask you for so much of yours to allow me to read you.

Oh, for sure! There'll be songbooks with the same notation somewhere in the library, and if neither of us manage to find any? I have some files with samples I can just send to your drone.

[Little smile at that.] That would be wonderful. I would be glad for your help.

[And then he looks back at the vehicle she used to get to him, considering.] If you would like, I can try to keep pace with your vehicle. I am not very fast, but I can run with you.

I'd be happy to help.

[She frowns at that, glancing at the stree'doo before casting an appraising eye over the minicon.]

D'you have any idea how much you might weigh in pounds...? Cause I think you could ride with, if you'd rather.

[He'll look back to her ride himself, then back to her again.]

If I estimate correctly, the translation would be about four hundred and fifty pound units. [And he's not looking confident in that at all, comparing his thick frame to her ride.] I am not so sure this will work. I worry I may damage something.

Edited 2015-07-29 00:53 (UTC)

Well... if a hundred-and-fifty pound guy can haul a three hundred and fifty pound caribou across the back of their skidoo, I'm willing to at least try it. [If worse comes to worse, she can call for pick-up.] We'll just have to be really careful with getting situated.

[Those optics might widen a little, then look at that 'skidoo' and back at her again.]

I... suppose. If I feel that it is beginning to take damage under my weight, I can let myself fall off the back to stop it. It would only be paint scratches at best, but I do not want to cause you to not have a faster means of travel.

[She offers Jetstorm a reassuring smile, shrugging before she pulls her shirt on again.] If things go terribly, terribly wrong, I at least know a guy who'll fix it---and another who'd give us a lift. [The thought's enough to get her grinning briefly, while her expression's hidden, because it's true and awesome and a little ridiculous; she knows a guy---two or three guys, actually---if there are repairs needed for anything mechanical; she knows a guy, if she needs a quick getaway; she knows a guy, if she needs aerial support; she knows a guy, if she really needs somebody punched. Something's gone terribly right, at least insofar as her social networking's concerned.]

I think we'll be okay if we proceed with caution. If you want to get on first, facing the back, and leaving a little room for me to sit so's I can actually drive, we'll have almost all of the weight situated over the section of body best for bearing it.

[He still doesn't look sure about this and he's not going to until they actually make it with the skidoo in one piece at the end of their trip. But he'll give her one more look, just to give her a lat chance to change her mind, before he steps over to the thing and starts to veeeery gingerly try to position himself on it as requested... with every little squeak and creak and unexpected shift of metal/leather/whatever under him forcing a pause out of him.]

[At that last look, Sam nods, having no intention of changing her mind. This is happening, and... the stree'doo holds. It holds even as she situates herself to sit back-to-back with Jetstorm, and although the minicon can't see it, he's sure to hear her smile as she speaks.]

Okay. Awesome. I am feeling optimistic about this. I'm going to start'er up so we can set out, but I'll go slow. You ready?

[He's just holding his balance here, still nervous, but not enough to get back off the vehicle again and just insist upon running the route.]

I am ready. I think... it may hold out.

[And he'll be watching that machine like a cyberhawk, just in case. That's not fear on him, that's concentration.]

Good, good. Here we go.

[And moments after Sam secures her helmet, they do go, starting off slow and gaining speed only gradually. Despite Jetstorm's weight, the stree'doo seems to be bearing up alright.]

[So far, so good. He'd take a better look at this thing if he thought he could do so while they're riding around on it, and it does make him feel more than a little awkward, but eventually it'll get faster than he can run, and he can't really complain. This is pretty neat.]

[It's neater yet when they hit a good clip, and the higher speed illustrates one advantage the stree'doo has over an actual motorcycle; its stability, even with all the weight atop it.]

Edited 2015-08-02 15:55 (UTC)

[This is... actually really neat. He's always been used to the world rushing by from the speed of his own two legs, or the feeling of motion from within his pod form, where he has no visual sensory input, as experienced from within his Master's vehicle form, but he's never seen it for himself. It's fascinating, for sure. He'll find himself looking all around at everything, watching it rush by, feeling a little thrill at it.]

Do you travel around using this device often?

Yeah.

[She has to raise her voice on account of the engine noise and her helmet's muffling effect, but it's a non-issue; she can be loud, if inclined.]

Not fast on my feet, and besides! The novelty of driving dry in warm weather's not worn off.

[much acting no wait that's v]

[ogod I miss him]

[aw thank you]

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