Experimental Drabble-ish
This is an exercise in control. To see how few words I could use to convey an idea, or a story.
Because everything I write tends to be longer than I want it to be (see Star Crossed... and that Bluestreak fic --;;). It's frustrating, to say the least, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could do something short and still meaningful.
Title Misfits
Characters, Pairings Ironhide/Chromia, Prowl/Jazz
Word Count 199
Summary Early in the war, at a recruitment station.
They were the poster-perfect couple.
Despite the doorwings accenting the chevroned one’s shoulders, they still shared the same base model-frame type. Their black and white paint jobs counterpointed each other so perfectly that Ironhide wondered if he had come to the right place. A thought he knew Chromia shared as she squeezed his hand under the table.
This couldn’t really be the recruitment station to the new Prime, could it?
Yet as he watched the two seeming-framekin mechs speak, he noticed an anomaly in their interactions. The subtle hints that they didn’t run on the same operating system. That they had been designed with different things in mind.
They expounded the philosophy of the Autobot regime, carrying the words and promises of the new Prime; one with quiet somberness, the other with a jovial grin.
The new Prime, a mech who said that the freedom to love another without regard to frame, or functionality, or processing code was the right of all Cybertronians.
The new Prime, a mech who was reviled, and hated by his peers for his talk of rights and freedoms; blasphemy to their audio sensors.
The new Prime, a mech who loved a femme.
--------------------------------
Did I succeed? Fail? What the heck was that about?
Because everything I write tends to be longer than I want it to be (see Star Crossed... and that Bluestreak fic --;;). It's frustrating, to say the least, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could do something short and still meaningful.
Title Misfits
Characters, Pairings Ironhide/Chromia, Prowl/Jazz
Word Count 199
Summary Early in the war, at a recruitment station.
They were the poster-perfect couple.
Despite the doorwings accenting the chevroned one’s shoulders, they still shared the same base model-frame type. Their black and white paint jobs counterpointed each other so perfectly that Ironhide wondered if he had come to the right place. A thought he knew Chromia shared as she squeezed his hand under the table.
This couldn’t really be the recruitment station to the new Prime, could it?
Yet as he watched the two seeming-framekin mechs speak, he noticed an anomaly in their interactions. The subtle hints that they didn’t run on the same operating system. That they had been designed with different things in mind.
They expounded the philosophy of the Autobot regime, carrying the words and promises of the new Prime; one with quiet somberness, the other with a jovial grin.
The new Prime, a mech who said that the freedom to love another without regard to frame, or functionality, or processing code was the right of all Cybertronians.
The new Prime, a mech who was reviled, and hated by his peers for his talk of rights and freedoms; blasphemy to their audio sensors.
The new Prime, a mech who loved a femme.
--------------------------------
Did I succeed? Fail? What the heck was that about?