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Woo~ song drabblets.
Sep. 17th, 2008 09:15 pmJust a little bit of brain calisthenics to see if neurons can still fire.... answer is: "sorta"
'Revolution' - Beatles
Sam had always sort of liked that song. He could listen to music from before he was born without rolling his eyes. His dad had taught him all the greats, 60s Rock and Roll, 70s classic rock, 80s power ballads.
Revolution, wanting to change the world. Seemed like things that the politicians could manage, the glitterati were spokespeople for… save the rainforests, save the whales, save mankind and the planet Earth…
They never mentioned the last one like it was something that one person could accomplish. The teenager that managed to rescue his home and everyone he knew from a giant alien overlord; he effectively changed the course of a genocide of mechical beings that was covered with the silken words of a silver tongue. ‘Revolution,’ the youth could never listen to the song the same way.
'Rafiki Mourns' – Broadway Lion King
A few words, then silence. Surrounded by aliens, more than a billion to one. The silver frame hung heavy in his hands. The frame of his brother, molten and broken at his feet. Three subordinates still online that needed attention, direction, protection in a universe suddenly utterly changed. Look to the living. As the youngest of their number speaks up, for the first time in vorns, he is thankfully held to the present. Mourning must be later.
Work is to be done; the medic looks to the others, drowning himself in his duties. The warrior concerns himself with security and a base. The youngest has a charge, another to focus on.
After meetings, coordination, secrets and stories and hidden among the people of their new home. Then, only then does he find the time. The isolation. The others needed him stoic and strong.
He finally found a fitting tribute to a dear friend, a subordinate, trusted advisor and expressive young mech he had attempted to corral down the right path. And this mech had been different, unique, and for so long, his Second on a distant journey.
Found release in the music of this new world. Sometimes words, sometimes anguished cries, tones so joyful or melancholy that they seemed capable of melting your spark.
He dropped to his knees, away from view of any of the others, awash in the sounds and letting the shudders wrack his frame. Cathartic, and Optimus felt that it was fitting to mourn Jazz with the music he'd had so little time on this planet to explore.
'When the Heartache Ends' – Rob Thomas
There is something terribly wrong. You’re brittle. You’ve never been like this in your whole existence. I know, I was there since the beginning. Always been, in some way, because you’ve tied shackles around my spark. And it’s alright. I move all directions, others, you, corners, and the outskirts, the battlefield, my duties. Near you, in whatever I am allowed. Everyone knows, it seems, the whispers. But in this, I can’t care. There is no way I could spend eternity without you.
I’m there.
It’s never easy with you. I never know quite what breaks you or makes you whole.
So I stand here silent, and almost start to feel you caving in. I try to hold the pieces together. I don’t know what terrifies you so much. Why we seem to fight about nothing. And fight. Not snark back and forth, darling Terror. We fight.
I dig, but can’t get to where you have buried yourself.
Why don’t you tell me, my friend?
Something deep down tells me to hold on. You just need to know, it’s alright. I’ll still be here when the sparkache ends.
'Revolution' - Beatles
Sam had always sort of liked that song. He could listen to music from before he was born without rolling his eyes. His dad had taught him all the greats, 60s Rock and Roll, 70s classic rock, 80s power ballads.
Revolution, wanting to change the world. Seemed like things that the politicians could manage, the glitterati were spokespeople for… save the rainforests, save the whales, save mankind and the planet Earth…
They never mentioned the last one like it was something that one person could accomplish. The teenager that managed to rescue his home and everyone he knew from a giant alien overlord; he effectively changed the course of a genocide of mechical beings that was covered with the silken words of a silver tongue. ‘Revolution,’ the youth could never listen to the song the same way.
'Rafiki Mourns' – Broadway Lion King
A few words, then silence. Surrounded by aliens, more than a billion to one. The silver frame hung heavy in his hands. The frame of his brother, molten and broken at his feet. Three subordinates still online that needed attention, direction, protection in a universe suddenly utterly changed. Look to the living. As the youngest of their number speaks up, for the first time in vorns, he is thankfully held to the present. Mourning must be later.
Work is to be done; the medic looks to the others, drowning himself in his duties. The warrior concerns himself with security and a base. The youngest has a charge, another to focus on.
After meetings, coordination, secrets and stories and hidden among the people of their new home. Then, only then does he find the time. The isolation. The others needed him stoic and strong.
He finally found a fitting tribute to a dear friend, a subordinate, trusted advisor and expressive young mech he had attempted to corral down the right path. And this mech had been different, unique, and for so long, his Second on a distant journey.
Found release in the music of this new world. Sometimes words, sometimes anguished cries, tones so joyful or melancholy that they seemed capable of melting your spark.
He dropped to his knees, away from view of any of the others, awash in the sounds and letting the shudders wrack his frame. Cathartic, and Optimus felt that it was fitting to mourn Jazz with the music he'd had so little time on this planet to explore.
'When the Heartache Ends' – Rob Thomas
There is something terribly wrong. You’re brittle. You’ve never been like this in your whole existence. I know, I was there since the beginning. Always been, in some way, because you’ve tied shackles around my spark. And it’s alright. I move all directions, others, you, corners, and the outskirts, the battlefield, my duties. Near you, in whatever I am allowed. Everyone knows, it seems, the whispers. But in this, I can’t care. There is no way I could spend eternity without you.
I’m there.
It’s never easy with you. I never know quite what breaks you or makes you whole.
So I stand here silent, and almost start to feel you caving in. I try to hold the pieces together. I don’t know what terrifies you so much. Why we seem to fight about nothing. And fight. Not snark back and forth, darling Terror. We fight.
I dig, but can’t get to where you have buried yourself.
Why don’t you tell me, my friend?
Something deep down tells me to hold on. You just need to know, it’s alright. I’ll still be here when the sparkache ends.
