rules-and-protocol
Prowl looks up from what he's doing on the datapad, he stares at the other Praxian confused for a second as he processes through the noise of the music Blaster has flowing through the speakers. He almost feels like his processor is taking too long to process everything so he speaks anyway.
"What??"
But then his processor catches up to what the other had said and answers anyway.
"Oh, uh, well I was invited. And I am working on getting outside of my comfort zone more," says Prowl trying to speak over the loud speakers currently providing music for many bots to dance to.
The vibrations against his door wings are giving him a helm ache. And if Smokescreen wants to talk more one of them is going to have to move the conversation to a more tolerable place at the party.
It takes so long for Prowl to answer that Smokescreen assumes that Prowl has his audio reception completely off. Smokescreen himself has his turned down. He was about to repeat his greeting on the comm frequency when Prowl looks up and answers.
And he's meeting someone. Smokescreen decides to use the comms anyhow, just so they can 'hear' each other. ::Well that's good, Prowl. I hope you enjoy your day. Good to see you again,:: Smokescreen giving a chin-up nod before turning to leave Prowl to his wait.
Perhaps a little outside time. Just as much a ruckus out there but less walls to bounce off of.
Warning: We playing LOOSE with canon here. :) AU where Prowl didn’t die because Cartoon Network cancelled the show over not getting a cut of movie toy sales. Also kind of based on their AU for the ship.
Comm for @rules-and-protocol
A hunt had not gone this smoothly in years. But still, Lockdown would not relax until his mark was safely tucked away in a cell right next to that Sparkeater he picked up a while back. "Pretty sure I fed them this week." Lockdown smiled darkly when the target began to panic, clearly taking the bait.
Prowl, however, stayed outside the ship, watching the leaves of a thorny tree flutter in the wind. Suddenly, a lilac-colored rodent of some sort ran past, leaping from one branch to the other. It was quickly followed by two more of the elongated arboreal animals dashing after it, screaming the entire time.
He expected the others to attack it. But, a soft smile returned to him, frame relaxing at the sight of play, rather than panic. One of the assailants jumped from their friend to another branch, chittering loudly, and the chase began anew.
"Alright, he's packed up. Not happy with his accommodations, but what can you do?" Lockdown commented, almost appearing behind Prowl, startling him. "What?" Lockdown asked when Prowl shot him a look.
Prowl sighed, "Chainbolt's locked up tight?"
"Please don't say his name."
"Why not?"
"It's pathetic."
"How is a name pathetic."
"Chainbolt? It's a terrible name. What does it even mean?" Lockdown threw up his arms, turning back towards the ship. "Speaking of dumb things. We're heading out to a place we've been meaning to go to for a while."
Prowls optics flicked up, though it could barely be seen behind his visor. "Oh?"
"Yep." Lockdown stepped up the loading platform. "You wanted some parts for your uhh...meditation area, right? Junk is on the way, so I thought we might stop--" he noticed Prowl deflate. "No, not junk as in a space field, Junk as in--"
"I know, thank you." Prowl replied politely, forcing a smile.
Lockdown stared blankly at his partner, then rubbed at his neck plating awkwardly. Prowl expected someplace else to be on his processor. "Look, I can't go--"
"I know," Prowl repeated, softer this time. He stepped past Lockdown, only for the larger mech to place a servo on his spinal strut, forcing the smaller mech to sit down with him.
"No, I need to say this. It's not hard to tell you're missing your old team. You've been pining at random animals again." Lockdown began.
"I said it's okay before, Lockdown." Prowl tried his best to shut the conversation down. "You don't want to go near Cybertron again."
"That's not what I said, and I don't need you to convince yourself that you're okay with it." he paused, trying to think his words over. "As I was saying, I can't go back there yet. I know you said that kid--Optimus, was going to change things, but I don't see how. Old bots don't change."
Silence stood between the two. Lockdown did not want to say it, but--he would not hold Prowl here... even if he never wanted the mech to leave him again. In truth, Cybertron held too many regrets to count for him. But he also knew Prowl had ties he wanted to keep alive, as much as he wished this new partnership to work.
"You did." Prowl broke the silence.
Lockdown raised an eye ridge.
Prowl responded by raising both of his knowingly.
"Nah."
"As much as it shocks me to say, you have. Three solar cycles ago, you were the slag pit. I wanted you dead to avenge Yoketron. But now...?" his servo gently bumped against Lockdowns, the older mech curling a pinky around Prowls. The two cyber ninjas leaned just a bit closer. When they were cut off by a blood-curdling scream from the Deaths Head.
"....That contract said dead or alive, right?" Lockdown asked, turning to face the sound as Prowl facepalmed.
The copter’s helm is resting against the chair he’s sitting on as claws tap away against the armrest they’re cuffed to. He’s been here for... Primus, he doesn’t know. Being stationary makes time feel like it’s nonexistent when he’s not doing anything, and he’s giving up on trying to keep his mind distracted by imagining himself being anywhere but here or attempting to speak to whoever, if anyone, was behind the two-way mirror.
Truthfully Vortex is a little annoyed he got caught. He’s usually very slick and has always managed to give enforcers the slip to avoid getting caught. This time he was too confident, taking a risk just to be the annoying copter he is, and ended up with his face to the floor and servos cuffed behind his back. The cops learned very quickly that he was attempting to use his claws to pick at the cuffs, so they changed their positions of them when leaving him alone in the interrogation room.
The tapping stops when he hears someone outside the door, only slightly lifting his helm off the chair to take a look before it falls back and vents out a sigh. Finally. Some action.
As the door slides open he peaks into the corner of his visor to see who it is and gives a small laugh before speaking in a mocking tone.
“I don’t know what you heard or read but you’ve got it all wrong officer. I’m an innocent mech~”
(The following RP takes place in the golden age several years before the rebellion in Kaon begins to stir. There is very much a caste system in place and some of the themes may be off putting to people. If you do not wish to read about pre-decepticon/gladiator slavery, please black list the tag #prewargladiator. Thank you)
@rules-and-protocol
“Come! Time to gather, Praxians!” a voice boomed through the grand hall where the banquet was about to take place. Naturally the gladitorial arenas always drew a crowd, but the show boating of the evening before was what truly stirred the spectators for the blood shed to come the following day. Though the feast fit for the Primes themselves was usually a privilege among only the highest of the societal caste, tonight the doors had been opened to those who may have been lesser of standing.
After all it wasn’t common that the Masters of the Kaon Ludus came to Praxus to host games for any reason.
“Gather my friends, my comrades, my fellow curious optic’d spectators. Tonight bears one of the few nights we have been blessed. A beloved Senator has passed on the reigns to a successor, and to honor his new glory, the masters from Kaon bring exotic and dangerous delights from the southern corners of Cybertron.” the crowd pleaser spoke in a raised set of vocals. Naturally he was trying to get the onlookers pumped and stoked for the sheer power that was to enter and stand in the middle of the room for all to see.
He shifted to an open area away from the delicacies and tables. The area lit in a manner where one would display something. Though empty for now, the moment he finished his next phrase, the space would fill.
“Please entertain your curiosity to Kaon’s finest Gladiators! You may look, you may touch, you may even converse! But remember. These are beasts from the south! Tamed only by their masters and for their lust of spilled Energon. Should you seek a private audience, you need only ask...if you have the coin” the crowd pleaser added, with a little bit of a mischievous on his facial plates. It earned a reaction from the nearby spectators which was soon forgotten.
A trim line of battle worn mechs came from a door on the far left. Some were huge, some were small, but all bore roughened features and would only stare in one single direction once lined and told to face the crowd. They appeared obedient and well trained like any military. But each one, especially one darker and smaller gladiator wished they could have been anywhere else other than here.
“Please! Enjoy your evening!”
The crowd shifted, looking around each of the different contenders. Some only looked, others touched. The gladiators themselves only stood still and silent. Their optics refused to look upon those who came close to them, even when ordered to speak.
♥ : Name one thing about the way their emotions work that they despise.
In Depth Headcanon Prompts
Uh, everything? In a good mood he’d say he enjoys the thrill of never knowing where his emotions will carry him, but when things are actually going to shit, he absolutely hates the fact that he can’t control his emotional state whatsoever. He’s either joyfully swept along down the feelings-river or tossed headlong down the waterfall and into the rocky depths, and there’s no in-between. He’s just too passionate for his own good, Primus damn it.
Does it sometimes feel like your the only tactition the army has? Just curious.
It…depends. As I previously mentioned, members of my tactical division are highly professional and I trust their skills.
However, there are certain situations when they are unable to act as quickly as I do and there is not enough time for me to wait for their input. During times like this, I usually prefer to act alone, unless I need to use certain equipment that should be operated by several tacticians at once. He’s also totally guilty of using that equipment alone though. That was an...interesting experience.
send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child.
Name: Kyanite (Kyan)
Gender: N/A Uses he/him
General Appearance: Kyan is tall, but slender -- built far more like his sire, Riella. Largely smooth plating, but has edges here and there that belies strength and power. He has red optics, and is mostly black, silver, and peacock. Kyan is around 28 feet tall, and is a grounder.
Personality: Easy-going and charming, but a little distant. Hesitant to trust others but he covers it up with a warm smile.
Special Talents: Singing and music. He is extremely gifted and has learned how to play many different kinds of instruments.
