[Open] Just promise you won’t forget me
Who: Jetfire and Jetstorm, Wheeljack, others are welcome
What: The twins reflect on the note left by Wing.
Where: Roof of Ground Zero
When: March 29th after dark has fallen
Two nearly identical bots sit together at the roof edge of Ground Zero with their peds hanging over the side. In a servo of the blue twin is held the instructions left behind by Wing at his departure from Nautilus to return to Sleep. The note had told them to be good, and if they could not manage to behave that they should absolutely be the very best at being bad as they possibly could be. It ended with a simple request for the jet twins to watch after Wheeljack.
Together the twins had read over the words several times. It could be the last they hear of a bot that they considered a new friend. It wasn’t that they had been able to spend a lot of time with him. Really, it was a similar situation to Jazz. He was a bot they had met and liked, had spent time playing with, but without warning was gone from Nautilus. Just like that.
Wing was a flier, like them, that had helped welcome them to the city, and when he had played with them in the snow it had been so much fun for the young jets. The thing that made them sad was not a lost connection with another they had grown close to as others were experiencing, but instead the loss of even possibly having that with him. There is no doubt that they miss him, but they ache more for what could have been.
While there is of course the small chance that they would see him again, that possibility seems so distant.
The two younglings sit themselves up a little straighter, bringing their servos nearest the other forward to hold out facing up right next to one another to combine their focus. Held across both servos, a simple metal box appears. With his free servo, Jetfire removes the lid of the box, opening the empty container to the air. Jetstorm places the instructions down inside, and Jetfire replaces the lid to close it with a soft flush of air as he presses to seal it tight.
Moving in sync, the twins lay the box down to rest over one leg each, and slide those now freed servos back behind one another, curling an arm around the other. Leaning in together, the brothers bring their outer servos in to touch against the box containing the instructions, just resting their digits against the lid.
Looking up at the night sky, a sigh passes from their vents. Jetfire closes his dimmed optics briefly to lay his head over against his brother’s shoulder, tucking against his neck. In turn, Jetstorm rests his head against his brother’s helm with his own visor glowing less brightly.
Then, they simply stare up at the stars.
What: The twins reflect on the note left by Wing.
Where: Roof of Ground Zero
When: March 29th after dark has fallen
Two nearly identical bots sit together at the roof edge of Ground Zero with their peds hanging over the side. In a servo of the blue twin is held the instructions left behind by Wing at his departure from Nautilus to return to Sleep. The note had told them to be good, and if they could not manage to behave that they should absolutely be the very best at being bad as they possibly could be. It ended with a simple request for the jet twins to watch after Wheeljack.
Together the twins had read over the words several times. It could be the last they hear of a bot that they considered a new friend. It wasn’t that they had been able to spend a lot of time with him. Really, it was a similar situation to Jazz. He was a bot they had met and liked, had spent time playing with, but without warning was gone from Nautilus. Just like that.
Wing was a flier, like them, that had helped welcome them to the city, and when he had played with them in the snow it had been so much fun for the young jets. The thing that made them sad was not a lost connection with another they had grown close to as others were experiencing, but instead the loss of even possibly having that with him. There is no doubt that they miss him, but they ache more for what could have been.
While there is of course the small chance that they would see him again, that possibility seems so distant.
The two younglings sit themselves up a little straighter, bringing their servos nearest the other forward to hold out facing up right next to one another to combine their focus. Held across both servos, a simple metal box appears. With his free servo, Jetfire removes the lid of the box, opening the empty container to the air. Jetstorm places the instructions down inside, and Jetfire replaces the lid to close it with a soft flush of air as he presses to seal it tight.
Moving in sync, the twins lay the box down to rest over one leg each, and slide those now freed servos back behind one another, curling an arm around the other. Leaning in together, the brothers bring their outer servos in to touch against the box containing the instructions, just resting their digits against the lid.
Looking up at the night sky, a sigh passes from their vents. Jetfire closes his dimmed optics briefly to lay his head over against his brother’s shoulder, tucking against his neck. In turn, Jetstorm rests his head against his brother’s helm with his own visor glowing less brightly.
Then, they simply stare up at the stars.