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Colour PalettesItd been a given for the last two years and some of their marooning, that one could cross paths with the special ops agent in the Level One commons in the mornings unless some other special operation had him tied elsewhere. After joining the command names for their ritual first light briefings, Jazz would remain behind for some extended period to sip at his rations and to greet the passing through. Itd become a rarely-had predictable Ark-side happening. One that was purely social, anyway. And although other activities wouldve seemed more vital in his use of this time spent fraternizing, it seemed none had ever made a point of it.Colour Palettes by tactilecontact
The reality was and no one could deny that Jazzs smooth, yet effervescent presence was a comfortable tangible. Comfort was not an easy thing to be had coinciding with the circumstances of the Autobots. Thus, Jazzs predictable morning coffe
What's The Child's Name?Its said and I can fully attest to this, now that trackers have a perverse level of tenacity. More so than most in other functions, save for espionage and medical, perhaps. Still, not many compare to the trackers. Essentially, theyre the Cybertronian equivalent to the earths bloodhounds. Their whole purpose in life is to pick up a scent trail, a clue, and trace it all the way to the source. Start to finish, start to finish. Never wavering, never being tempted off course, and never, ever giving in. And, really, that analogy doesnt put it in proper perspective to say just how tenacious a tracker can be. Its just the way theyre programmed.What's The Child's Name? by tactilecontact
Hound, on the other hand Just the notion forces a tired, airy sigh from me. Not lost to him beneath the gentle whistle of wind that might otherwise hide such an expulsion from another mech.