[A: Reflect] [There was a moment, amid the soft gravity of the cosmos whipping around him, that Dinobot was assured that this was it. The way to the Well of All Sparks. His return home, from eons apart, beckoned on by the shifting lines of reality, showing him sights no bot could ever see on their own in a thousand cycles. So bright and tangible, he could almost reach out a claw and grasp the universe.
Then, the crushing gravity of the situation really set in. Now, a large robot stands in the hall leading off the medical bay. Taller than the average human by a good few feet, he stoops just slightly to gaze out the window, optics drawn to the planet below.
The universe back there left less of an impression than the vast expanse of greens and blues here. Organic. Like Earth, but this wasn't it, this time for certain. Everything was too different.
He pays little more than an indifferent curiosity to the drones here, other than their words. Small, chirping bots, non-Cybertronian in nature. Like everything else. But a trading post. This was a space port for passerbys, going on their way. Part of a greater space-faring empire, no doubt. The ramifications washed over him like liquid energon. Electrifying and... life-giving.
It doesn't sit well.]
I have been denied eternity. [A rumbling disbelief. Deep, from the back of his throat, it's bitter.] What more... is there for me?
[B: Imbibe] [Energy. Essential to any lifeform, and Maximals were no different. Oh, how he yearned for a touch of energon, the raw forms left on Earth were so volatile. All Cybertronians could absorb energy through organic matter, like biological species, but it was never the same for him.
Not the first time he's had to swallow his pride. It probably won't be his last, annoyingly.
The Red Buffalo Shank would be enough to keep him going. The smell of earthen vegetables and rich meat reminds him of a past very distant from here. Despite himself, Dinobot ends up savoring the meal.
How could you? Your honour!" "Is not Maximal honour. It is Predacon honour. I am Predacon. Now, Megatron is close to achieving a great victory... I foolishly believed I wanted to be part of it." "And now...?"
How strange, to be whisked back to the past. One of his more recent blunders as a warrior. And yet... that's where it began, wasn't it? The beginning of the end; for him, and something greater still.
...This food is adequate.]
[C: Initiate] [Loading into the docking bay, it's all a familiar sort of monotonous. The wonder other passengers experience is vacant in Dinobot as he settles in for the launch. Space travel was as common to Cybertron as breathing was to organics. The splendor of it was beautiful, but nothing stays fresh and new forever.
At least until the fish swim through the cabin. That is a new experience. Spacefaring creatures that phase through solid matter is perplexing and, briefly, shocking.
His weapons have been put away long ago, better for his tendency to reflexively lash out. However that leaves his claws, which he raises to feel for the strange, transparent fish as it passes overhead.
Suddenly, his claws are clear, as is the rest of him. And he's fallen through his chair. Almost completely out of sight, until his flailing limbs come up through the floor.]
What in the Pit--?! [He's gone. Oop, no, he's back again.] This is ridiculous!
Dinobot | Transformers Beast Wars
[There was a moment, amid the soft gravity of the cosmos whipping around him, that Dinobot was assured that this was it. The way to the Well of All Sparks. His return home, from eons apart, beckoned on by the shifting lines of reality, showing him sights no bot could ever see on their own in a thousand cycles. So bright and tangible, he could almost reach out a claw and grasp the universe.
Then, the crushing gravity of the situation really set in. Now, a large robot stands in the hall leading off the medical bay. Taller than the average human by a good few feet, he stoops just slightly to gaze out the window, optics drawn to the planet below.
The universe back there left less of an impression than the vast expanse of greens and blues here. Organic. Like Earth, but this wasn't it, this time for certain. Everything was too different.
He pays little more than an indifferent curiosity to the drones here, other than their words. Small, chirping bots, non-Cybertronian in nature. Like everything else. But a trading post. This was a space port for passerbys, going on their way. Part of a greater space-faring empire, no doubt. The ramifications washed over him like liquid energon. Electrifying and... life-giving.
It doesn't sit well.]
I have been denied eternity. [A rumbling disbelief. Deep, from the back of his throat, it's bitter.] What more... is there for me?
[B: Imbibe]
[Energy. Essential to any lifeform, and Maximals were no different. Oh, how he yearned for a touch of energon, the raw forms left on Earth were so volatile. All Cybertronians could absorb energy through organic matter, like biological species, but it was never the same for him.
Not the first time he's had to swallow his pride. It probably won't be his last, annoyingly.
The Red Buffalo Shank would be enough to keep him going. The smell of earthen vegetables and rich meat reminds him of a past very distant from here. Despite himself, Dinobot ends up savoring the meal.
How could you? Your honour!"
"Is not Maximal honour. It is Predacon honour. I am Predacon. Now, Megatron is close to achieving a great victory... I foolishly believed I wanted to be part of it."
"And now...?"
How strange, to be whisked back to the past. One of his more recent blunders as a warrior. And yet... that's where it began, wasn't it? The beginning of the end; for him, and something greater still.
...This food is adequate.]
[C: Initiate]
[Loading into the docking bay, it's all a familiar sort of monotonous. The wonder other passengers experience is vacant in Dinobot as he settles in for the launch. Space travel was as common to Cybertron as breathing was to organics. The splendor of it was beautiful, but nothing stays fresh and new forever.
At least until the fish swim through the cabin. That is a new experience. Spacefaring creatures that phase through solid matter is perplexing and, briefly, shocking.
His weapons have been put away long ago, better for his tendency to reflexively lash out. However that leaves his claws, which he raises to feel for the strange, transparent fish as it passes overhead.
Suddenly, his claws are clear, as is the rest of him. And he's fallen through his chair. Almost completely out of sight, until his flailing limbs come up through the floor.]
What in the Pit--?! [He's gone. Oop, no, he's back again.] This is ridiculous!