Fanfic -- Childhood
Jul. 26th, 2007 03:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dunmurderinTitle: Childhood
Originally Posted: September 13, 2006
Author: Dunmurderin
Character/Pairing: Tailgate
Word count: 352 (approximately)
Rating/Warning: G; bit angsty
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I do not own Transformers; story takes place on Cybertron roughly 1 million years ago. Probably just a few vorn after "Infancy", if that long.
Group/Theme: 7 Ages of Man
Tailgate walked through the crowd, hands brushing over this and that individual as he paused here and there to greet familiar faces and introduce himself to new people.
“Hello, hello!” His optics were bright and sparking as he moved along. “So nice to see you again! So glad you could come! Welcome!”
His friends returned his greetings in their own ways, many were simply companionably silent but he knew they were glad to see him. For many of them, he was their only company. The others didn’t come to see them often, and if they did it was usually because they wanted something only his friends could give them. It was disappointing, to say the least, but his friends didn’t seem to mind the sacrifices too much.
“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Tailgate said. “We’ve been busy. Shockwave has been trying to find Elita-1’s headquarters again but we’ve managed to make sure she and the others in High Command are safe.”
He didn’t continue, his friends knew he couldn’t talk about such secrets. He trusted them but Shockwave’s interrogators knew ways of extracting information from the most loyal of beings.
“I have a new partner,” he said, switching subjects to fill the silence. “His name is Pipes; Kup and Magnus built him last orn from the parts you donated. He’s very brave and strong and he’ll be a credit to you all, I promise.”
The wind whispered through the debris and Iacon’s dead made no reply. Tailgate shuddered, his engine revving as his hands brushed pensively over the twisted wreckage that was all that remained of someone. Decepticon or Autobot, Tailgate had no way of knowing. Not that he cared; instead he tried to bring what comfort he could to those that were left behind, discarded like so much trash. The others didn’t understand. There were times he thought they simply couldn’t understand -- the war had eaten away at them for so long they’d forgotten that all mechanical beings were one, regardless of faction.
It didn’t matter. He knew. He would remember and maybe, just maybe that would be enough.
Originally Posted: September 13, 2006
Author: Dunmurderin
Character/Pairing: Tailgate
Word count: 352 (approximately)
Rating/Warning: G; bit angsty
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I do not own Transformers; story takes place on Cybertron roughly 1 million years ago. Probably just a few vorn after "Infancy", if that long.
Group/Theme: 7 Ages of Man
Tailgate walked through the crowd, hands brushing over this and that individual as he paused here and there to greet familiar faces and introduce himself to new people.
“Hello, hello!” His optics were bright and sparking as he moved along. “So nice to see you again! So glad you could come! Welcome!”
His friends returned his greetings in their own ways, many were simply companionably silent but he knew they were glad to see him. For many of them, he was their only company. The others didn’t come to see them often, and if they did it was usually because they wanted something only his friends could give them. It was disappointing, to say the least, but his friends didn’t seem to mind the sacrifices too much.
“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Tailgate said. “We’ve been busy. Shockwave has been trying to find Elita-1’s headquarters again but we’ve managed to make sure she and the others in High Command are safe.”
He didn’t continue, his friends knew he couldn’t talk about such secrets. He trusted them but Shockwave’s interrogators knew ways of extracting information from the most loyal of beings.
“I have a new partner,” he said, switching subjects to fill the silence. “His name is Pipes; Kup and Magnus built him last orn from the parts you donated. He’s very brave and strong and he’ll be a credit to you all, I promise.”
The wind whispered through the debris and Iacon’s dead made no reply. Tailgate shuddered, his engine revving as his hands brushed pensively over the twisted wreckage that was all that remained of someone. Decepticon or Autobot, Tailgate had no way of knowing. Not that he cared; instead he tried to bring what comfort he could to those that were left behind, discarded like so much trash. The others didn’t understand. There were times he thought they simply couldn’t understand -- the war had eaten away at them for so long they’d forgotten that all mechanical beings were one, regardless of faction.
It didn’t matter. He knew. He would remember and maybe, just maybe that would be enough.
