Dust
Title: Dust
Author: Boom
Continuity: Transformers G1
Rating: U
Characters/Pairing: Grapple
Warnings: Wordy musings
Summary: Grapple muses.
Author's Notes: Sorry, no plot here.
Grapple hated dust.
Dust was not uncommon on Cybetron but it seemed like he had never had to deal with it in such quantities as on Earth. Admittedly he was from Iacon, which did not tend to get as much dust precipitation as other parts of Cybertron.
For example, Irides. Beachcomber had once started explaining to Grapple why Irides received so much more dust that the rest of Cybertron but as soon as he started talking about ellipses and planetary rotations Grapple had stopped listening. Irides was a fine example of why the urge to create and mould one's environment should not always be followed. Grapple had seen artwork inspired by Irides as it was aeons ago, a sight as alien to him as the forests of the organic world he was on now. Great skyscraping clusters of crystals shone from glimmering pools of coloured solutions and massive geodes were dotted throughout the mineral forest, changing continually as the dust-laden wind added and took away mass. This was at the beginning of Cybertron's golden age, and as more and more wonders were built in the cities, the existing wonders that had built themselves over aeons were mined away.
As resources ran thin the crystals were cut down, carved up and polished and the geodes were harvested for the minerals within. The Iridescent Forest became the Irides plain. Without the towering large crystals to trap the little moisture in Cybertron's air there were no more gleaming blue pools of copper sulphate solution, and hence no young crystals grew. Without the vast geodes constantly being remodelled there was nothing to stop the wind as it raged over the vast plains that used to contain forests and cities. The small mechanical creatures that thrived in the dust piles died out as their homes eroded away and were destroyed, just like the cities that once rose high and proud.
Some mechs still lived out there, scraping a living from the dust and the junk left behind by their ancestors. Where once cities thrived small towns remained, in the ruins of the past were homes custom-built to survive the dust storms. Grapple had once visited one such settlement as part of an architecture field trip. The point of the trip was to marvel at the Cybertronian spirit that could engineer habitation in such hostile conditions but all Grapple could remember was the gritty feeling of never quite being able to get all the dust out of his joints and facial components.
On Earth the dust wasn't quite as dangerous, but there was an added element of disgust to it. It was made of dead organic things. After reading that most dust was dried flaked human skin Grapple had avoided as much of humanity as he could until Hoist had dragged him out with tempting tales of this elegant arch in some city to the south. Looking at the soaring curve of steel Grapple felt somewhat peaceful. This may be a planet of disgusting organic muck, but purity could rise out of it, like crystals growing from dust and damp.
Author: Boom
Continuity: Transformers G1
Rating: U
Characters/Pairing: Grapple
Warnings: Wordy musings
Summary: Grapple muses.
Author's Notes: Sorry, no plot here.
Grapple hated dust.
Dust was not uncommon on Cybetron but it seemed like he had never had to deal with it in such quantities as on Earth. Admittedly he was from Iacon, which did not tend to get as much dust precipitation as other parts of Cybertron.
For example, Irides. Beachcomber had once started explaining to Grapple why Irides received so much more dust that the rest of Cybertron but as soon as he started talking about ellipses and planetary rotations Grapple had stopped listening. Irides was a fine example of why the urge to create and mould one's environment should not always be followed. Grapple had seen artwork inspired by Irides as it was aeons ago, a sight as alien to him as the forests of the organic world he was on now. Great skyscraping clusters of crystals shone from glimmering pools of coloured solutions and massive geodes were dotted throughout the mineral forest, changing continually as the dust-laden wind added and took away mass. This was at the beginning of Cybertron's golden age, and as more and more wonders were built in the cities, the existing wonders that had built themselves over aeons were mined away.
As resources ran thin the crystals were cut down, carved up and polished and the geodes were harvested for the minerals within. The Iridescent Forest became the Irides plain. Without the towering large crystals to trap the little moisture in Cybertron's air there were no more gleaming blue pools of copper sulphate solution, and hence no young crystals grew. Without the vast geodes constantly being remodelled there was nothing to stop the wind as it raged over the vast plains that used to contain forests and cities. The small mechanical creatures that thrived in the dust piles died out as their homes eroded away and were destroyed, just like the cities that once rose high and proud.
Some mechs still lived out there, scraping a living from the dust and the junk left behind by their ancestors. Where once cities thrived small towns remained, in the ruins of the past were homes custom-built to survive the dust storms. Grapple had once visited one such settlement as part of an architecture field trip. The point of the trip was to marvel at the Cybertronian spirit that could engineer habitation in such hostile conditions but all Grapple could remember was the gritty feeling of never quite being able to get all the dust out of his joints and facial components.
On Earth the dust wasn't quite as dangerous, but there was an added element of disgust to it. It was made of dead organic things. After reading that most dust was dried flaked human skin Grapple had avoided as much of humanity as he could until Hoist had dragged him out with tempting tales of this elegant arch in some city to the south. Looking at the soaring curve of steel Grapple felt somewhat peaceful. This may be a planet of disgusting organic muck, but purity could rise out of it, like crystals growing from dust and damp.