Primus Hates You!

((Independent RP Blog for IDW Star Saber.))

[primushatesyou]

whenthemusicisrockin:

Kindly moves over to the blind side of Star Saber now.

“Geez.  You are wasting time on me when there are sinners just sinning behind your back.”  You know.  All those sinners.  Those possibly existing sinners.  That might be invisible sinners…

“And hey, I got a full life to live.  Conjunx and all.  Primus wouldn’t want you to destroy such a sacred thing, do you?”  

Star Saber is a lot of things: fanatical, bloodthirsty, twisted. He is not, however, going to fall for the old ‘there’s something behind you’ trick. With an annoyed growl, the warrior wraps his hand around the hilt of his great sword and yanks it free with a loud snarl.

For all the bravado, though, he does not get far. His days of fevered rapture have taken a toll on his frame, and before he takes more than a tottering step Star Saber slams his great sword into the ground in a desperate attempt to remain upright.

“Leave me!” he snaps. “You profane my sacrament with your blathering!”

[primushatesyou]

whenthemusicisrockin:

“I stand corrected.  You, all of you, is just gross.”    Blaster responds.   This is not a good time to goad a psychopath, but hey, you sometimes just gotta roll with it. 

Star Saber tilts his helm towards the sound of the voice, good optic narrowing to a pinprick. All he can see is a blur of color, but that’s all he needs. The warrior’s hand twitches towards the sheath at his side, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.

“I suppose I don’t need to know your designation. You all die the same in the end,” he snaps.

[reibread]

[primushatesyou]

whenthemusicisrockin replied to your post: ‘Faith is a knife,’ Star Saber thought. He felt it... Blaster says, “Ew. Gross.”

“Who’s there? What would you understand of such a sacred sacrament, apostate?”

[primushatesyou]

‘Faith is a knife,’ Star Saber thought.

He felt it stab through his optic, twisting so deep that it scraped against his brain module. Even blinded and in agony, he could smell the rancid discharge from his shattered optic. It dripped down his faceplates like a solitary tear.

‘Faith is nothing without pain,’ he thought.

His faith was so great that he could hardly move through the haze of it. Every white blossom of pain was his prayer; the flakes of rust falling from his infected optic were his plea.

‘To be in such agony, Primus must love me dearly,’ he thought.

At first, when Cyclonus had rammed into him and caused the damage, Star Saber had momentarily doubted. Had Primus withdrawn his blessing? What had he done wrong? Was not his every action the will of Primus? In his doubt, Star Saber had fled. However, the fever of illness had brought Star Saber the clarity that he craved. In his agony he found revelation.

‘He reminds me that I am pain. I am the sword forged to taste it, spread it, share it with all,’ he thought.

Star Saber’s hand flexed around a shard of shrapnel as he lifted it to his faceplates. Shriek! He scraped it against the ragged edge of his wound. A gasp escapes Star Saber. The warrior tried to focus through the overwhelming force of his faith. Using the sharp scrap of metal, Star Saber continued to try and dig out the remnants of his blindness before the infection spread and killed him.

“I am born anew,” he whispered.

Fresh energon gushed from the days-old injury, tears without end.

[primushatesyou]

((Has it really been two years? holy fuck))