Long overdue ficlet/drabble
FOR VIOLAH'S BIRFDAY. IT'S UBER LATE AND I EPIC FAIL AT LIFE, but I hope you like it anyways. D:
Title: Cliff
Continuity: Transformers Animated
Character/Pairing: Oil Slick x Cyclonus
Rating: G (I'M SORREH, no robo pronz this tiem around, just awkwardness ;3;)
Author's Note: I was inspired by vani_nessa's Premonitions to write this. I absolutely loved her take on TFA Cyclonus, and wanted to pit him against my take on Oil Slick (although I probably failed at Cyclonus), and Vi demanded I do it, and for once I had an attention span longer than a goldfish's, so here it is. (And yes I swear I'm still working on the Starscream fic. *runs*)
---
Team Chaar was named after its base of operations, the planet Chaar. It was a desolate planet, all scraggly peaks, gritty sand, and indigo skies. Dust storms would arise without warning, of such violent fury that the landscape itself would change after one had swept through. Because of this, no maps ever stayed accurate for more than a few solar cycles.
It was a perfect hiding place for Decepticons. So perfect that sometimes the Decepticons themselves could not find their own base.
Cyclonus and Oil Slick halted side by side at the edge of a cliff, both pairs of optics scrutinizing the land sprawled before them, searching. Cyclonus crossed his arms, joints grinding painfully from the accumulated grit. The pair had been out on a routine patrol when a storm struck from nowhere, and they had been caught out in the open with no shelter close enough to run to. Both of them were rather worse for wear, coated with a fine layer of dust. In the perpetually dim light, they resembled pale wraiths with sets of smoldering coals for eyes.
"We're lost," Cyclonus said finally. His voice was more of a vibration than a sound, deep as the caverns hidden behind the dunes, rumbling like the boulders that shifted in the winds.
"No need to state the obvious, Cyc'. Try getting through to Stryka again with those ears of yours," Oil Slick said. He did not seem to be bothered in the slightest that they may never find their base again. The larger warrior narrowed his optics irritably, but did as his companion prompted. Finger pressed to his commlink, Cyclonus tried several channels, tilting his head slightly for better reception.
"Nothing." His arms folded across his chest again, expression decidedly grim.
Oil Slick shrugged nonchalantly. "Then I guess we should keep going."
His words were met with stony silence, Cyclonus staring out at the bleak horizon as if it was something to be read and studied.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Oil Slick said after a moment. Cyclonus seemingly continued to ignore him.
"Good. Because you're going to be a doll a carry me off this cliff whether you like it or not."
Neither Cyclonus' expression nor tone of voice changed even a fraction. He did not even look at Oil Slick. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me, sweetheart." Oil Slick smirked, the expression partially masked by the reflected light on his trademark domed helmet. Without so much as a warning, he grabbed Cyclonus by the elbow, claw-like digits digging harshly into the metal, and pushed him right off the cliff.
Like a cat twisting to land on its feet, Cyclonus instantly fired his thrusters and righted himself. He clutched at Oil Slick's shoulder, half to pry him off, half to stop him from just hanging on to Cyclonus' arm and unbalancing him.
The space jet landed clumsily at the foot of the cliff and stumbled a step or two backwards as Oil Slick fell against him unceremoniously. The two mechs stood awkwardly for a moment, optics locked. Oil Slick was still latched to the flyer's arm, the other hand having moved instinctively to scrabble at Cyclonus' waist to steady himself. Cyclonus still had a firm grip on the cycle's shoulder, the other arm raised as if to shrug off Oil Slick's claws.
"You land like you make friends," Oil Slick sneered, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Cyclonus shoved him away roughly and turned his back on him.
"You didn't give me any warning," he said simply. Despite his hunched, tense shoulders, his voice was neutral. He started walking, not waiting for Oil Slick.
"Not my fault you were being a space cadet," the cycle drawled, catching up quickly.
"I can put you back on that cliff and leave you."
"A space cadet with no sense of humor."
Cyclonus stopped in his tracks, and Oil Slick quickly dodged out of striking range. After a few nanoclicks of the jet standing stiffly, irritation practically oozing from his energy signature, Oil Slick dared to take a few steps closer, even overtaking him. Cyclonus positively glared death.
Oil Slick spent the rest of the search with his lip components sealed and sensors trained on Cyclonus, who loomed behind him like an angry storm cloud.
Title: Cliff
Continuity: Transformers Animated
Character/Pairing: Oil Slick x Cyclonus
Rating: G (I'M SORREH, no robo pronz this tiem around, just awkwardness ;3;)
Author's Note: I was inspired by vani_nessa's Premonitions to write this. I absolutely loved her take on TFA Cyclonus, and wanted to pit him against my take on Oil Slick (although I probably failed at Cyclonus), and Vi demanded I do it, and for once I had an attention span longer than a goldfish's, so here it is. (And yes I swear I'm still working on the Starscream fic. *runs*)
---
Team Chaar was named after its base of operations, the planet Chaar. It was a desolate planet, all scraggly peaks, gritty sand, and indigo skies. Dust storms would arise without warning, of such violent fury that the landscape itself would change after one had swept through. Because of this, no maps ever stayed accurate for more than a few solar cycles.
It was a perfect hiding place for Decepticons. So perfect that sometimes the Decepticons themselves could not find their own base.
Cyclonus and Oil Slick halted side by side at the edge of a cliff, both pairs of optics scrutinizing the land sprawled before them, searching. Cyclonus crossed his arms, joints grinding painfully from the accumulated grit. The pair had been out on a routine patrol when a storm struck from nowhere, and they had been caught out in the open with no shelter close enough to run to. Both of them were rather worse for wear, coated with a fine layer of dust. In the perpetually dim light, they resembled pale wraiths with sets of smoldering coals for eyes.
"We're lost," Cyclonus said finally. His voice was more of a vibration than a sound, deep as the caverns hidden behind the dunes, rumbling like the boulders that shifted in the winds.
"No need to state the obvious, Cyc'. Try getting through to Stryka again with those ears of yours," Oil Slick said. He did not seem to be bothered in the slightest that they may never find their base again. The larger warrior narrowed his optics irritably, but did as his companion prompted. Finger pressed to his commlink, Cyclonus tried several channels, tilting his head slightly for better reception.
"Nothing." His arms folded across his chest again, expression decidedly grim.
Oil Slick shrugged nonchalantly. "Then I guess we should keep going."
His words were met with stony silence, Cyclonus staring out at the bleak horizon as if it was something to be read and studied.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Oil Slick said after a moment. Cyclonus seemingly continued to ignore him.
"Good. Because you're going to be a doll a carry me off this cliff whether you like it or not."
Neither Cyclonus' expression nor tone of voice changed even a fraction. He did not even look at Oil Slick. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me, sweetheart." Oil Slick smirked, the expression partially masked by the reflected light on his trademark domed helmet. Without so much as a warning, he grabbed Cyclonus by the elbow, claw-like digits digging harshly into the metal, and pushed him right off the cliff.
Like a cat twisting to land on its feet, Cyclonus instantly fired his thrusters and righted himself. He clutched at Oil Slick's shoulder, half to pry him off, half to stop him from just hanging on to Cyclonus' arm and unbalancing him.
The space jet landed clumsily at the foot of the cliff and stumbled a step or two backwards as Oil Slick fell against him unceremoniously. The two mechs stood awkwardly for a moment, optics locked. Oil Slick was still latched to the flyer's arm, the other hand having moved instinctively to scrabble at Cyclonus' waist to steady himself. Cyclonus still had a firm grip on the cycle's shoulder, the other arm raised as if to shrug off Oil Slick's claws.
"You land like you make friends," Oil Slick sneered, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Cyclonus shoved him away roughly and turned his back on him.
"You didn't give me any warning," he said simply. Despite his hunched, tense shoulders, his voice was neutral. He started walking, not waiting for Oil Slick.
"Not my fault you were being a space cadet," the cycle drawled, catching up quickly.
"I can put you back on that cliff and leave you."
"A space cadet with no sense of humor."
Cyclonus stopped in his tracks, and Oil Slick quickly dodged out of striking range. After a few nanoclicks of the jet standing stiffly, irritation practically oozing from his energy signature, Oil Slick dared to take a few steps closer, even overtaking him. Cyclonus positively glared death.
Oil Slick spent the rest of the search with his lip components sealed and sensors trained on Cyclonus, who loomed behind him like an angry storm cloud.