Blaaaargh I say
Title: Toccata (In Black and White) - Crystal Drops (02/31)
Day: 02
Prompt: "No two snowflakes are alike"
Verse: G1
Rating: PG-13
Words: 929
Other Characters: Ricochet.
Warnings: Character Death.
Summary: Prowl could not understand why humans were so obsessed with being unique.
Notes: For the Delightful December challenge @ prowlxjazz. Happy holidays to all in the pxj community! This piece is not beta read so feel free to correct me.
Snow drifted down from the cloudy skies above them, blanketing the city and all immobile objects on its path in it’s frozen pale blue tinted ice crystals. Snow, Prowl knew, was just another form of one of the most abundant elements in this planet, whether safe for organic life consumption or not.
At first, Prowl had never understood the humans’ fascination with the concept of snow, it was just water in a different state, a powder created by diminutive crystals of frozen water that fell on by the pull of gravity. Humans themselves did not know what snow truly was like until they developed the technology to see what snowflakes were truly like, and it seemed from there their fascination began as two crystals never repeated the exact same pattern.
Each snowflake was unique and no other would ever be just like the one that has melted away and ceased to exist. For Cybertronians humans were actually more like snowflakes. Their lives were ephemeral compared to that of the Cybertronians, nothing but snowflakes that drifted through life with only Primus knew what purpose. Each human was unique, and not even those with identical genetic material could ever be the same. Twins were often reassured of their individual unique value with the example of the snowflakes. Others more sarcastic also turned it into a mocking nickname.
For cybertronians it wasn’t quite the same. The borderline obsession with being unique wasn’t necessarily shared amongst Cybertronians, they did not need to be ‘unique’, they merely sought to be themselves, regardless of whether that made them unique or follow the pattern carried over by others like them. That was why there were certain kinds of frames or designs that were commonly seen. Many mechs did not even have the luxury of different colors to distinguish them and one could tell what city one belonged to by the common elements of their design.
But Prowl felt that he knew of two snowflakes that maybe had been alike. Jazz didn’t speak much of his deceased twin brother, other than they had been identical in many ways, their frames had turned to carry inverted color schemes, but otherwise Jazz and Ricochet had been truly two halves of one spark.
Prowl never met Ricochet, the mech having passed long before he and Jazz crossed paths for the first time, yet every time his spark touched Jazz’s he felt he knew and learned more about Jazz and his twin brother. With every merge of their sparks, Jazz shared more about his past, more about a life so different to the one the War forced him to lead. He’d come to know more about Jazz and Ricochet that he would have imagined, he’d seen the memories of two twin mechs going together everywhere they could, often hanging from each other’s hands and mischievously playing little games with their condition of twins to get a good giggle out of other mechs. They would start completing each other’s phrases, which quickly earned them sighs and grunts of annoyance from older mechs or their peers who found it most disturbing that Ricochet would begin a sentence only to have Jazz finish it. But that game became old relatively soon and they took their mischievousness to the next level, when they began to speak at unison, move at unison and mirror each other’s expressions.
For many this was particularly creepy, but Jazz and Ricochet thrived in being so alike, in truly representing that they were the two halves of one spark. Being like two identical snowflakes made them unique in a different sense.
When Prowl was first granted a glance to Jazz’s spark he had almost expected to find a whole spark, fused with Ricochet’s and thus allowing Jazz to keep on living despite the loss of his twin. To his surprise what he found was a spark roughly half the size of a common spark. When asked about it Jazz admitted Ricochet never returned to him and for a long time he felt incomplete and on the brink of death or madness, but something -and Jazz claimed it was Ricochet’s essence talking to him- often convinced him he had to keep on living so he would find the spark that would complete him.
Prowl never expected that spark would be his own, but when he merged with Jazz fully and completely, he felt he himself had been completed. The night of their bonding he could feel rather than hear a murmur that thanked him and asked him to care of Jazz as Jazz would care of him.
“What’s on yer processor?” Jazz’s voice purred softly against Prowl’s audio while his arms wrapped around Prowl from behind.
“Just the snow.” Prowl murmured, touching the black forearm gently. “Humans are fascinated with it. It’s just water.”
“Humans like their metaphors. They like t’think the things around ‘em explain what they are, where they’re comin’ from. It’s nice t’see them able to marvel about their world.” Jazz snuggled against Prowl’s shoulder, watching the snow drifting down from the warm safety of the temporary quarters afforded to them for a brief collaboration with the local police. “They say no two snowflakes are ever alike.”
“So I’ve heard.” In reality the saying might be completely true now, as Ricochet’s frozen crystal had melted away, leaving only Jazz to drift through life like a lone snowflake.
“But not alone anymore, lover.” Jazz smiled, either sensing what Prowl was thinking about or nudging through the bond for Prowl’s thoughts.
Prowl nodded with a small smile. “No. Not alone.”
Day: 02
Prompt: "No two snowflakes are alike"
Verse: G1
Rating: PG-13
Words: 929
Other Characters: Ricochet.
Warnings: Character Death.
Summary: Prowl could not understand why humans were so obsessed with being unique.
Notes: For the Delightful December challenge @ prowlxjazz. Happy holidays to all in the pxj community! This piece is not beta read so feel free to correct me.
Snow drifted down from the cloudy skies above them, blanketing the city and all immobile objects on its path in it’s frozen pale blue tinted ice crystals. Snow, Prowl knew, was just another form of one of the most abundant elements in this planet, whether safe for organic life consumption or not.
At first, Prowl had never understood the humans’ fascination with the concept of snow, it was just water in a different state, a powder created by diminutive crystals of frozen water that fell on by the pull of gravity. Humans themselves did not know what snow truly was like until they developed the technology to see what snowflakes were truly like, and it seemed from there their fascination began as two crystals never repeated the exact same pattern.
Each snowflake was unique and no other would ever be just like the one that has melted away and ceased to exist. For Cybertronians humans were actually more like snowflakes. Their lives were ephemeral compared to that of the Cybertronians, nothing but snowflakes that drifted through life with only Primus knew what purpose. Each human was unique, and not even those with identical genetic material could ever be the same. Twins were often reassured of their individual unique value with the example of the snowflakes. Others more sarcastic also turned it into a mocking nickname.
For cybertronians it wasn’t quite the same. The borderline obsession with being unique wasn’t necessarily shared amongst Cybertronians, they did not need to be ‘unique’, they merely sought to be themselves, regardless of whether that made them unique or follow the pattern carried over by others like them. That was why there were certain kinds of frames or designs that were commonly seen. Many mechs did not even have the luxury of different colors to distinguish them and one could tell what city one belonged to by the common elements of their design.
But Prowl felt that he knew of two snowflakes that maybe had been alike. Jazz didn’t speak much of his deceased twin brother, other than they had been identical in many ways, their frames had turned to carry inverted color schemes, but otherwise Jazz and Ricochet had been truly two halves of one spark.
Prowl never met Ricochet, the mech having passed long before he and Jazz crossed paths for the first time, yet every time his spark touched Jazz’s he felt he knew and learned more about Jazz and his twin brother. With every merge of their sparks, Jazz shared more about his past, more about a life so different to the one the War forced him to lead. He’d come to know more about Jazz and Ricochet that he would have imagined, he’d seen the memories of two twin mechs going together everywhere they could, often hanging from each other’s hands and mischievously playing little games with their condition of twins to get a good giggle out of other mechs. They would start completing each other’s phrases, which quickly earned them sighs and grunts of annoyance from older mechs or their peers who found it most disturbing that Ricochet would begin a sentence only to have Jazz finish it. But that game became old relatively soon and they took their mischievousness to the next level, when they began to speak at unison, move at unison and mirror each other’s expressions.
For many this was particularly creepy, but Jazz and Ricochet thrived in being so alike, in truly representing that they were the two halves of one spark. Being like two identical snowflakes made them unique in a different sense.
When Prowl was first granted a glance to Jazz’s spark he had almost expected to find a whole spark, fused with Ricochet’s and thus allowing Jazz to keep on living despite the loss of his twin. To his surprise what he found was a spark roughly half the size of a common spark. When asked about it Jazz admitted Ricochet never returned to him and for a long time he felt incomplete and on the brink of death or madness, but something -and Jazz claimed it was Ricochet’s essence talking to him- often convinced him he had to keep on living so he would find the spark that would complete him.
Prowl never expected that spark would be his own, but when he merged with Jazz fully and completely, he felt he himself had been completed. The night of their bonding he could feel rather than hear a murmur that thanked him and asked him to care of Jazz as Jazz would care of him.
“What’s on yer processor?” Jazz’s voice purred softly against Prowl’s audio while his arms wrapped around Prowl from behind.
“Just the snow.” Prowl murmured, touching the black forearm gently. “Humans are fascinated with it. It’s just water.”
“Humans like their metaphors. They like t’think the things around ‘em explain what they are, where they’re comin’ from. It’s nice t’see them able to marvel about their world.” Jazz snuggled against Prowl’s shoulder, watching the snow drifting down from the warm safety of the temporary quarters afforded to them for a brief collaboration with the local police. “They say no two snowflakes are ever alike.”
“So I’ve heard.” In reality the saying might be completely true now, as Ricochet’s frozen crystal had melted away, leaving only Jazz to drift through life like a lone snowflake.
“But not alone anymore, lover.” Jazz smiled, either sensing what Prowl was thinking about or nudging through the bond for Prowl’s thoughts.
Prowl nodded with a small smile. “No. Not alone.”