lastonepercent: By <user name="sparklight"> (Default)
[personal profile] lastonepercent posting in [community profile] red_diode_district
The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time.  The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on.  The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased.  He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity.  It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and  the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors.  Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

Date: 2014-03-01 01:36 am (UTC)
cliffjumper: (... hands in places - get away please)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
Not that he could exactly see the extent of it, but he caught flashes of the fresh wou--- etchings in the light as Mirage twitched and Tracks moved and Mirage was doing this willingly.

It was a little hard keeping that in mind though, even with the humming song to distract him. The little twitches and Mirage's flexing hands were like visual bells in the otherwise still room, and Cliffjumper's expression slowly drew up into a grimace.

This wasn't right.

Why was this based of injuring yourself? He was vaguely aware that it was perfectly possible that some people enjoyed deliberately applied pain in certain circumstances, or accepted pain in some circumstances. This was one of those.

That didn't help Cliffjumper though, because pain wasn't right - and it was also uncomfortable because it was hard to tell if those little squirms were from pain or something... else.

Uncomfortable and unhappy, Cliffjumper gritted his teeth and hunched up, cables tightening and his posture growing stiffer by the klik.

Date: 2014-03-02 12:43 am (UTC)
cliffjumper: (angsty CJ)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
Cliffjumper stiffened and then hunched up further, glaring at the floor in front of his as if it somehow had committed some grave error.

::... What?:: Cliffjumper was honestly surprised at how sulky and defensive he sounded, but he couldn't help it. Glancing up sideways at Mirage, he noted while the noises had stopped, it was still obvious that he was in pain.

Which, well.

Was understandable considering what was going on, but all he wanted to do was to jump up and yank Tracks away as the source/cause of the pain. He knew it was consensual, that it was 'necessary' - it still didn't help the bubbling unease that seemed to crawl along his circuits.

Date: 2014-03-02 06:55 pm (UTC)
cliffjumper: (determined - gonna slag ya if I need to)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
It was probably not proper protocol, but Cliffjumper let a rude noise escape him as he looked away, glaring at the wall off to the side of the berth. If he was stealthier - was able to be stealthier - about his emotions and expressions, he wouldn't have Mirage trying to fraggin' reassure him.

::Easy for you to say. Just 'cause I know it's okay doesn't mean---:: The comm broke down into strangled static because admitting he didn't feel comfortable about watching someone else having pain inflicted on them, of their own will or not, wasn't what he wanted to do.

The fact that he was hunching up and his field drawn tight enough it buzzed against his own armour and his voice was tense, was probably more than enough clues to the same, embarrassingly enough.

Date: 2014-03-02 11:29 pm (UTC)
cliffjumper: (it could be a trap! - serious)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
::That ain't what I meant!:: Cliffjumper hissed and then winced as he caught the twitch of Mirage's wheels at the corner of his vision and grit his teeth. He wasn't sure how to explain, or even if he wanted to, though Mirage's last words had him grimacing.

::It ain't a fraggin' pity watchin' somehow havin' pain inflicted on 'em, no matter how... how willing. That just... it's not---!:: He was surprised at the sudden rush of words, and then they just stopped and Cliffjumper was left with something like a taste of burned ozone in his mouth and engine rumbling jerkily.

(Though the taste was more imagined than not.)
Edited Date: 2014-03-03 12:01 am (UTC)

Date: 2014-03-03 11:58 am (UTC)
cliffjumper: (say what - these orders sucks)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
The silence was almost as bad as Mirage's reactions to the etching tool inflicted on him, because who knew what it meant---

The offered hand had Cliffjumper staring, optics widening and was he trying to make fun of him or something?

::'Cause bein' sorry ain't good enough, huh? And I don't--- need---:: Cliffjumper's sputtering over the comm was disrupted by angry static which belied how the situation was getting to him, and the fact that he was getting angry more at himself for reacting the way he was rather than at Mirage's (sincere or not) offer of...

Support? Slagging comfort?

He didn't fraggin' need anything like it! He needed to be elsewhere, to not have to bother with religion (to be less suspicious and brash) to... Growling, Cliffjumper was aware that he had, embarrassingly enough, shifted in his stance in preparation to get up.

Date: 2014-03-04 12:06 pm (UTC)
cliffjumper: (talking - back turned)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
Religion, ugh.

Not that he had anything against it in theory, but it was far easier when it was being over there and didn't impact him more than the random holiday thing... But he couldn't precisely say, either, that it had been thrust on him, since he'd somehow managed to walk right into Mirage's rituals.'

Twice.

And he didn't fragging need or want Mirage's smelting pity. Not to talk about what Tracks thought, Cliffjumper thought with a dark glare at said mech's back.

He also didn't particularly want to be closer to what was going on, since if he was closer he'd be able to see every single pain-caused twitch more clearly, and probably end up picking up the echoes of the same in Mirage's EM field...

And still, with a growl, Cliffjumper reluctantly got up and walked over, sitting down with his back to the berth and arms crossed, shoulders already tensing.

Date: 2014-03-06 07:07 pm (UTC)
cliffjumper: (something off - the purple's not enough)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
And tolerating it was about as far as it got.

Cliffjumper jerked upright when the touch slid over his helm, freezing and swallowing the protesting squawk. He also had to relax the fist his hand had tightened into.

He should shake Mirage off---

But... Okay. Maybe... It was embarrassing, but Mirage's hand was a warm, firm presence just as much as the hummed song was, and he wasn't touching the horns. Not that the horns were sensitive enough he couldn't stand them touched briefly or casually, but it was the principle of the thing.

(And also that it wasn't that hard to trick the sensors into heightening their sensitivity.)

So, after half a klik of stiff-backed hesitation, Cliffjumper relaxed back down, but that didn't stop his field from flexing fitfully, even if he'd pulled it as close as it could go.

Embarrssing, that Mirage had noticed and was offering comfort. Even more embarrassing that he was taking it, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to face the mech after this.

He didn't fragging care what Tracks thought, though.

Date: 2014-03-08 12:49 pm (UTC)
cliffjumper: (listening - may not like it)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
As Tracks started up again, Cliffjumper briefly tensed and thought, again, that he really should get rid of Mirage's hand. But the offered anchor, like the renewed strength of the song, helped with not lashing out and trying to put a stop to the whole thing, again.

So he settled back, curled up against the side of the berth and glaring at the floor, trying to concentrate on Mirage's humming rather than the noise of the etching tool or the tenseness bleeding through from Mirage's hand.

He could do this.

He regularly went out on fragging battlefields, had for millions of years now, but... But it wasn't the same thing.

This was... Shifting his shoulders and trying to dispel that train of thought, Cliffjumper dimmed his optics and tried to relax.

But, despite the additional support Mirage was, for whatever reason, offering through the gentle hand on his helm, he just couldn't. Even less so than he'd been sitting on the other side of the room.

It was like there was a creeping lattice of... intent? heat? he wasn't sure, but it was right behind him, centered, he assumed, on Mirage and Tracks, but he couldn't figure out how.

He tried to sit still and just ignore it, to focus on the hand and the humming - which had its own thread of warm presence, Cliffjumper realised with a scrunch to his nasal ridge.

No, Focus.

Ignore the other stuff.

Date: 2014-03-09 12:47 am (UTC)
cliffjumper: (talking - back turned)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
Cliffjumper managed to keep still for half a cycle, arms crossed tight over his chestplates, but it was hard. Several times he'd almost shook Mirage's hand off or slid out from under it and then stopped part-way, embarrassed to admit that he...

Well, this was probably the closest he'd get to the mech after this and it was kind of shameful and he should just slap himself later, but he stayed put.

It didn't keep him from shifting as the kliks went on however, because the energy which he'd completely missed before now wasn't just there, it also kept growing.

Nothing huge, not like what had happened at the last holday ritual celebration he'd been to, but it was right there at his back, pricking his armour where Mirage's hand was on his helm, and sort of clung in ebbing and rising strength in the song.

He squirmed and glared at the ground, wishing this was over.

At least he could by now ignore the pain Mirage must be feeling - kind of, anyway. The thought was enough to make him still and listen for it, for Tracks making a mistake that didn't come and he had to just settle down again.

While feeling as if his plating was crawling.

Date: 2014-03-09 04:23 pm (UTC)
cliffjumper: (determined - gonna slag ya if I need to)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
Cliffjumper felt the building tension before Mirage reacted fully, but even bracing himself for it didn't help. The sudden fist weighing down on top of his helm, even just resting there, kicked his threat assessment into gear.

Then Mirage cried out and he didn't care if "sacrifice" was a blasted part of it, why should sacrifice involve pain and it just wasn't right---

Engine snarling along with his own growl, Cliffjumper stopped somewhere before he got fully to his knees and stopped, hands rythmically tightening into fists firmly enough he was denting his palms.

He felt jittery from the... thing, which had peaked at Mirage's cry and then settled back, stronger, and he didn't like that either, even if he wasn't sure why.

Why the slag would you choose a rite that required pain for dedication? That just---

::Mirage.:: Cliffjumper hissed over the comm, unsure why he did it and all he wanted to do was finish getting to his knees and turn around and punch Tracks in the knee or something and then storm out.

Date: 2014-03-11 11:52 am (UTC)
cliffjumper: (determined - we can do this)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
::And how the slag is it?! Ain't there other ways---:: Cliffjumper snapped and slashed a hand through the air, then jerkily ducked away from under the hand even as he slumped down heavily on the floor again, arms crossed.

He didn't get it and why was this an acceptable way of showing dedication? If his horns could be twitching from the flickering thing which was hovering in the air in an ever-expanding net, they would be. He knew trying to turn off the sensors in his horns wouldn't work - he'd feel it anyway.

That was just the first and most sensitive point, beside the jittery pressure on the circuits around his spark chamber.

Cliffjumper was also vaguely aware that this was probably not making anything easier for Mirage, the way he was acting, but---

Growling angrily, he curled up at stared at the floor as if he could melt it, and while the song was sort of helping again, now that Mirage's composure had broken he was too aware of it, as well as the trembling wheel-mount.

Date: 2014-03-12 11:34 am (UTC)
cliffjumper: (drunk sleepy or hurt? - take your pick!)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
He wouldn't whine. He would not. Not in front of either of them, and he wouldn't yell at Mirage and tell him it was stupid and storm out. he wasn't even sure who it'd be safe to complain to after this was over.

Bumblebee would listen, but while he wasn't much more of a believer than Cliffjumper in general, he found more... stability and meaning in both the Covenant and the holiday rites and whatnot than Cliffjumper ever had, so he might probably not understand. He was not going to go to Gears or Huffer.

Beachcomber was a maybe--- Cliffjumper stiffened at the hand on his helm, but didn't shake it off again, just growled. And then Mirage's voice dropped, the song changed and beyond the suddenly pleasant thrumming along struts and down into his protoform, the building... potential? Something followed along the reverberating chant and Cliffjumper felt brief, startled alarm at the way it went in and calmed.

Brief, because the new strength of Mirage's ritual chant and the directed power in it managed to pull the minibot into a meditative state. Not quite trance, but focused enough he was aware enough of the building power in the room and the faint traces of light and power it was pulling from all three of them, focusing on Mirage.

If he knew enough to break it, he'd probably have stormed out, even more angry and unsettled.

Date: 2014-03-13 12:24 am (UTC)
cliffjumper: (shadows - creeper CJ)
From: [personal profile] cliffjumper
All the reaction Mirage got as his hand stroked across the metal was a slight tilt of Cliffjumper's helm, without any resistance at all. His expression might still make the priest wary though, since it was a slightly pinched frown.

Optics unfocused and the expression softened by lack of immediacy, but there nontheless.

Because caught up as he was or not, it couldn't, apparently, supress Cliffjumper's innate irritability.

Even as the song died back to its former level, Cliffjumper didn't really notice - in this state it was still bright and clear. An almost visible vibration that swung in time to the faint wisps of light that radiated outwards from Mirage but were pulled back at the same time, hovering above the blue and white frame in the glyphs that were being etched in.

Not that Cliffjumper, sitting with his back to the berth, could see that directly, but he didn't need to.

Vaguely, the scrunched nasal ridge twitched a bit further as Cliffjumper realised part of the threads of light wasn't just that... potential, intention, power, but sparklight.

He couldn't really see Mirage's or Tracks', that being more like a suggestion of warmth (especially Mirage's) from which the power was being drawn, but his own was like a pulsing web of starlight.

If he'd not been caught up in the song and the near-trance state, the realisation of what he was seeing would have been quite alarming. Outwards, all Cliffjumper did was slump a little back against the berth and the center of power - Mirage.

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