Festival Challenge - Day 22 - Entry 2
Title: posesión santa
Day and Prompt: Day 22, endless
Rating: G
Festival: Oruro Carnival
A/N: It started with me trying to describe the festival. Then it veered off on a completely different tangent. I hope I kept some of the feel of the Oruro Carnival.
Jazz looked his costume over carefully, checking for any last minute defects or flaws. The over-sized, spiky, black chestplate was awkward but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. The red and orange lights creating glyphs were new decorations and a nice change from just the simple paint he’d had previously.
The oversized orange gloves were going to be a bit more of a problem maneuvering, particularly with the deep red claws extending half a length again from his fingers. He pulled one on to take a careful swipe, checking the balance. At least the things were hollow so they didn’t throw him off too much.
The black mask was once again going to be the most problematic piece. Four fake optics created out of flashing orange and red lights dominated the faceplate. He could see through the thin slit between the pairs, but he could already tell he’d have to adjust the settings on his visor this year. The mouth had some gaudy pink-stained fangs, and the whole thing was ringed with red and orange tapering spikes. The two oversized red head fins for the sides of the piece completed the spectacle.
Hound came over to help him with the costume. “Cheer up, mech. You should see the contraption Wheeljack came up with for Bumblebee this year.”
“Oh?” Jazz leaned forward obligingly as Hound tried to straighten the chestplate.
“Four over-sized fully functional arms.” He snickered as the plating fell into place. “He’s been practicing so he won’t hit revelers with them.”
Jazz snickered, picturing the smaller mech in his traditional yellow-orange costume. “Did they stick with violet accents this year?”
“Yep, it looks good on him.” Hound offered the glove to Jazz to put on. “You don’t have to remind me this year, mask last.”
“Everything check okay with the rest of the costumes?” Everyone had heard Sunstreaker ranting earlier.
“The femmes had a bit of an issue. Someone decided to swap the copper ribbons on their costumes for silver. Sunstreaker threw a fit but then decided he could salvage it. So they’re still in aqua and copper costumes, but he yanked some of the silver ribbons off the chestplates and wrapped them up around the horns. It works.”
As if on cue, Chromia stalked into the tiny room, blue-opticed mask in hand. Her costume shimmered with reflective crystals and tiny blue lights. “It’s almost time to start.”
“Have I ever been late?” Jazz scoffed.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” She stalked off.
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Hound, orange and green costume in place, finished adjusting his own bright pink mask before turning to Jazz, twisting to avoid hitting him with a red horn. The six other Pit Fiends behind him were all prepped and ready to dance out into the crowd.
Jazz looked up at the enormous purple and orange mech next to him. An orange helm bedecked with large arching gray horns, and a frame covered with gray glyphs and sparkling jewels. The arching orange wings festooned with shimmering purple lights completed the spectacle. “Ready to go?”
Hound settled the mask in place over Jazz’s helm. Ready. The dark voice answered from inside his helm.
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The mech leading the column was armored in dark blue and gold plates ribboned with white ridges. A gold and deep blue helmet framed his large blue faceplate. Clutched in both hands was an enormous gleaming golden sword. Flanking him were an enormous yellow Seeker covered in blue, purple and pink glyphs and a light orange minibot with four violet arms. Prima, so good to see you again.
Likewise, Fallen. Prima lead his followers forward, moving smoothly through the familiar steps in time with the music.
Unicron’s femme servants darted around the trio in an intertwining wave of movement, constantly spinning and twisting as they laughed and mocked them. Finally, they leaped over the minibot and ran to cluster away from the group. Bored yet?
The Pit Fiends began moving, dancing to the crowd’s enjoyment. Hardly, this is the only time I get to come out and play anymore. The Fallen waved his claws menacingly as he stalked forward to give his speech.
You’ve given this same speech a thousand times might want to liven it up a bit. Prima glared mockingly at his sibling. Mind if I distract you?
This time things will fall to my favor.
That’s what you always say.
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Dodging Silverbolt’s yellow mask, discarded on the floor as he chased after his brothers, Prowl placed the prop sword carefully on the table.
As he helped Prowl carefully remove the chestpiece, Jazz grumbled, “I don’t see why you have to cover your panels every year.”
“Prima did not have sensory panels, Jazz.” Prowl replied, wincing lightly as the straps holding the costume in place were detangled from his frame.
The revelry still fresh in his thoughts, Jazz whined. “Next time I get to be Prima.”
“Only if Optimus agrees to let me be Unicron.”