Voices of Cybertron II
Title: Voices of Cybertron II
Author: AotA
Rating: K
Warnings: fluff, Prowl playing a not-quite-a-prank on the Ark
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Optimus
Setting: tf-bayverse
Summary: “Ah want ta hear ya talk in that beautiful voice o’ yours.”
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.
Notes: An exploration of how location and class affects spoken Cybertronian. Thanks to zomgitsalaura for looking this over for me!
“Prowl?” Optimus prompted.
Prowl smirked and replied with a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Prowl ignored the curious expression and stood in front of one of his tactical displays. He faced the mechs and began to speak, “As we have had, and continue to have Decepticon incursions…”
His first words had Jazz stare in shock for a klik before he broke out a happy smile, but that quickly changed when he realized the effect Prowl was having on all the other mechs. A gleeful expression that would probably be more at home on the resident prankster’s face, namely Sidewipe, appeared.
All around him, mechs stared as they heard their tactician iterate changes in protocol and defense updates in his native Praxus accent instead of Official Standard Cybertronian, which was the only way anyone had ever heard him speak. Jazz stifled a snigger, knowing that Prowl of all people was pulling a prank, and was he ever doing it with style.
Jazz wondered if he could try pulling off something similar and join him. He slouched, deciding that his own native accent was too thick and ingrained to manage it no matter how entertaining it would be. He would have to practice.
Eventually, without the usual interruptions during his presentation, Prowl finished going over the changes in record time and wrapped up what he was saying. “Any questions?”
There was silence as Prowl surveyed the other Autobots. His wings gained a quizzical tilt as there weren’t any. He paused, then apparently decided that, no matter how odd it was, there were no questions and nodded, “Very well. That will be all this orn. If there are any other changes that need to be implemented I will notify you through the normal channels.” He removed the tactical displays and returned to his seat, passing control of the meeting back to the Prime.
To his credit, Optimus managed to continue to conduct the meeting without too much of a delay, despite the sideways glances that continued throughout it. That is, he continued the meeting until there was a distinctly worried comm. from Jolt, informing the command staff that there was a small crisis in progress involving Wheeljack, various potently volatile substances, a localized system blackout, and two small oblivious twins. They winced in unison, none of those things were good on their own, but together they had the potential to be frightfully disastrous. Optics caught each other around the table, silent debates over who would be responsible to handle this situation this time.
With a suspicious, but unsurprising, lack of volunteers, Prowl found himself resigned to handling the task as he had already gone over his part of the meeting. Informing Jazz that, “I will rely on you to recount the rest of the meeting at a later point in time,” he swept out of the meeting like a spark set on vengeance.
Jazz watched his sparkmate leave with a chuckle, feeling sorry for the poor slaggers about to meet their creators. He didn’t notice the tense lull in the conversation until bewildered voices erupted making him jump in surprise. Jazz turned his attention back to the small mutiny occurring in shock. After a moment, when what they were saying registered, Jazz couldn’t resist a wry, vexed smile. Oh Prowl, you just love confounding these poor mechs, don’t you? Jazz rested his cheek in his palm, letting the babble wash over him. He wasn’t going to get involved in this particular uproar.
Eventually, Prime slapped down a fritzing Red Alert, a bewildered, and thusly rather cross, Ratchet, and a growling Ironhide. Blaster was simply intrigued and had a thoughtful expression stamped across his face. Perceptor, as a stand in for Wheeljack, looked confused but amused by the proceedings.
“How Prowl chooses to speak is none of our business,” Optimus eventually lectured. “Prowl is a Praxus model after all. Why wouldn’t he be able to speak like it?”
Red Alert shook his head, not buying it, “Why would he start now, of all times? He has never talked like that before.”
Jazz decided that he should probably fess up. He raised a hand tentatively, “Uh… Ah think that that’s kinda my fault.”
The shift in attention, focused unerringly on him, had the saboteur wishing he hadn’t said anything. He sank down in his seat to present a smaller target. Oh man! This is all your fault Prowl!
-=/\=-
Prowl sighed as he finished sorting out the mini crisis to find that the meeting had indeed finished in his absence and he was due to take the next shift on monitor duty. Scanning through his schedule backlog, Prowl realized that he was going to have to multitask to finish all the data pads that needed to be gone over.
Dropping by his office so that he could pick up the most urgent data pads, he finally made his way to the monitor station to relieve Inferno. Fortunately for him, he had all shift to “relax” with his work. Unfortunately for him, it was after his shift was over and it was his own turn to be relieved that a disaster quickly materialized. And that disaster became the cause for Prowl’s exasperated yet extremely amused dismay. Sideswipe, apparently, had been missed by the gossip grapevine.
It wasn’t Prowl’s fault that what happened, happened. Not at all.
Author: AotA
Rating: K
Warnings: fluff, Prowl playing a not-quite-a-prank on the Ark
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Optimus
Setting: tf-bayverse
Summary: “Ah want ta hear ya talk in that beautiful voice o’ yours.”
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.
Notes: An exploration of how location and class affects spoken Cybertronian. Thanks to zomgitsalaura for looking this over for me!
“Prowl?” Optimus prompted.
Prowl smirked and replied with a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Prowl ignored the curious expression and stood in front of one of his tactical displays. He faced the mechs and began to speak, “As we have had, and continue to have Decepticon incursions…”
His first words had Jazz stare in shock for a klik before he broke out a happy smile, but that quickly changed when he realized the effect Prowl was having on all the other mechs. A gleeful expression that would probably be more at home on the resident prankster’s face, namely Sidewipe, appeared.
All around him, mechs stared as they heard their tactician iterate changes in protocol and defense updates in his native Praxus accent instead of Official Standard Cybertronian, which was the only way anyone had ever heard him speak. Jazz stifled a snigger, knowing that Prowl of all people was pulling a prank, and was he ever doing it with style.
Jazz wondered if he could try pulling off something similar and join him. He slouched, deciding that his own native accent was too thick and ingrained to manage it no matter how entertaining it would be. He would have to practice.
Eventually, without the usual interruptions during his presentation, Prowl finished going over the changes in record time and wrapped up what he was saying. “Any questions?”
There was silence as Prowl surveyed the other Autobots. His wings gained a quizzical tilt as there weren’t any. He paused, then apparently decided that, no matter how odd it was, there were no questions and nodded, “Very well. That will be all this orn. If there are any other changes that need to be implemented I will notify you through the normal channels.” He removed the tactical displays and returned to his seat, passing control of the meeting back to the Prime.
To his credit, Optimus managed to continue to conduct the meeting without too much of a delay, despite the sideways glances that continued throughout it. That is, he continued the meeting until there was a distinctly worried comm. from Jolt, informing the command staff that there was a small crisis in progress involving Wheeljack, various potently volatile substances, a localized system blackout, and two small oblivious twins. They winced in unison, none of those things were good on their own, but together they had the potential to be frightfully disastrous. Optics caught each other around the table, silent debates over who would be responsible to handle this situation this time.
With a suspicious, but unsurprising, lack of volunteers, Prowl found himself resigned to handling the task as he had already gone over his part of the meeting. Informing Jazz that, “I will rely on you to recount the rest of the meeting at a later point in time,” he swept out of the meeting like a spark set on vengeance.
Jazz watched his sparkmate leave with a chuckle, feeling sorry for the poor slaggers about to meet their creators. He didn’t notice the tense lull in the conversation until bewildered voices erupted making him jump in surprise. Jazz turned his attention back to the small mutiny occurring in shock. After a moment, when what they were saying registered, Jazz couldn’t resist a wry, vexed smile. Oh Prowl, you just love confounding these poor mechs, don’t you? Jazz rested his cheek in his palm, letting the babble wash over him. He wasn’t going to get involved in this particular uproar.
Eventually, Prime slapped down a fritzing Red Alert, a bewildered, and thusly rather cross, Ratchet, and a growling Ironhide. Blaster was simply intrigued and had a thoughtful expression stamped across his face. Perceptor, as a stand in for Wheeljack, looked confused but amused by the proceedings.
“How Prowl chooses to speak is none of our business,” Optimus eventually lectured. “Prowl is a Praxus model after all. Why wouldn’t he be able to speak like it?”
Red Alert shook his head, not buying it, “Why would he start now, of all times? He has never talked like that before.”
Jazz decided that he should probably fess up. He raised a hand tentatively, “Uh… Ah think that that’s kinda my fault.”
The shift in attention, focused unerringly on him, had the saboteur wishing he hadn’t said anything. He sank down in his seat to present a smaller target. Oh man! This is all your fault Prowl!
-=/\=-
Prowl sighed as he finished sorting out the mini crisis to find that the meeting had indeed finished in his absence and he was due to take the next shift on monitor duty. Scanning through his schedule backlog, Prowl realized that he was going to have to multitask to finish all the data pads that needed to be gone over.
Dropping by his office so that he could pick up the most urgent data pads, he finally made his way to the monitor station to relieve Inferno. Fortunately for him, he had all shift to “relax” with his work. Unfortunately for him, it was after his shift was over and it was his own turn to be relieved that a disaster quickly materialized. And that disaster became the cause for Prowl’s exasperated yet extremely amused dismay. Sideswipe, apparently, had been missed by the gossip grapevine.
It wasn’t Prowl’s fault that what happened, happened. Not at all.