[Flashback] - Chaconne { Closed. Rota/Jazz }
May 8, 2015 0:45:41 GMT -5
Post by Jazz on May 8, 2015 0:45:41 GMT -5
Timeline:
Set before the war, in Praxus.
Praxus.
It was a beautiful city, with all the glamour of Crystal City but without the excessive glitz. There was something modest about it which made it much more appealing- more appreciative of. It didn't call out in looks with 'Hey, pay attention to me, I'm pretty!'. Instead the people took pride in what they had through keeping it clean and welcoming to those from the outside that came to visit. The Praxians were always a kind crowd to perform for and it pleased Jazz whenever he could come here. Granted, he loved all the places he went to for their own reasons, but Praxus was just his favorite to venture to.
The Assembly was the epicenter of the city. Positioned in the center most region, it was difficult to get lost on the way to it since all the roads practically connected around it whether one be walking or in their vehicle modes. With the focus on the varying fields of Arts and Science, this was the go-to when one wanted to visit the city from all areas around Cybertron. Really, this place was a dream to perform in, to visit, to say they had been able to set foot into, even if it were as public as one of the library facilities. Even so, it was just... magical... to say the least. There was little else needed to describe the feeling. One just needed to experience it on their own to really know the sensation.
Now if only the concerts weren't run by the mech HE knew...
"I expect you to put on a good performance. The hall is entirely sold out."
"Mhm."
"There will be physical performers as well."
"Alright."
"... Jazz?"
"Got'cha."
"JAZZ."
The sudden shout of his designation would have been enough for anyone else to be snapped to attention, but Jazz rarely got away that easily. He had been so focused on tuning the keys on the string instrument on his lap that he didn't notice the approach of the other mech. Before he realized he had gone off in his own world again, the instrument was clamoring to the floor and Jazz had his back forced to the wall.
"When I am speaking to you, you pay attention. Do you understand?" A servo slammed just to the side of his helm and he stared straight ahead at the Towerling 'owner' of his. That look on his faceplate, the irritation he showed for being obviously ignored? Jazz enjoyed seeing that look. Knowing he could cause the otherwise composed mech to lose his cool, to get under his plating that easily? Payback, and it was so sweet. It didn't come without its punishments but that would come later. "I will not tolerate it, Jazz. I have warned you to be mindful of my words and obedient to them."
Jazz tensed up when Cress leaned in close and he turned his helm to the side to avoid further optical contact with him, staying like that as the taller mech rested his chin on Jazz's raised shoulder plate. While the unwanted contact was compromising, Jazz knew that for now he was safe. Cress wouldn't dare do anything to him that could possible lead to Jazz losing focus and screwing up a performance, so at least that bought him some time and would allow the anger to fester within Cress for a while.
Sit on that for a while, you disgusting freak.
Jazz shifted a little but kept his servos at his sides against the wall, refusing to move or touch Cress. Instead he just found words as he didn't want to touch him more than he was needed to.
"I gotta go warm up for the show."
That was enough. Cress backed off him and an irritated rumble came from the base of his throat as he did so. Jazz quickly took the opportunity to move away from the wall, gather his instrument from the floor, and made his way out of his private room. No sooner was he outside of it that he exvented in relief and composed himself as he strolled far from the room. No one ever knew the situation behind the closed doors he lived on the side of. Those matters were left to the private world and he dare not share his experiences with the public. He wouldn't volunteer knowledge as being the 'pet' to the rich outside world he was shoved into being around and definitely not to Cress's friends. To Jazz, these were two different lives he lived.
Arriving at the practice hall, Jazz found a seat and took it, then focused on his instrument once more. He plucked a string, tuned it, plucked another, then repeated the process. He had ten to go through and he had to make sure they were ready for the performance. Upsetting Cress was one thing, but Jazz would not mess up what HE loved to do, even if that would be the ultimate slap in the face to his owner.
The music. The culture. This was the world Jazz-
No, not Jazz. Meister.
This was the world Meister belonged to.
Set before the war, in Praxus.
Praxus.
It was a beautiful city, with all the glamour of Crystal City but without the excessive glitz. There was something modest about it which made it much more appealing- more appreciative of. It didn't call out in looks with 'Hey, pay attention to me, I'm pretty!'. Instead the people took pride in what they had through keeping it clean and welcoming to those from the outside that came to visit. The Praxians were always a kind crowd to perform for and it pleased Jazz whenever he could come here. Granted, he loved all the places he went to for their own reasons, but Praxus was just his favorite to venture to.
The Assembly was the epicenter of the city. Positioned in the center most region, it was difficult to get lost on the way to it since all the roads practically connected around it whether one be walking or in their vehicle modes. With the focus on the varying fields of Arts and Science, this was the go-to when one wanted to visit the city from all areas around Cybertron. Really, this place was a dream to perform in, to visit, to say they had been able to set foot into, even if it were as public as one of the library facilities. Even so, it was just... magical... to say the least. There was little else needed to describe the feeling. One just needed to experience it on their own to really know the sensation.
Now if only the concerts weren't run by the mech HE knew...
"I expect you to put on a good performance. The hall is entirely sold out."
"Mhm."
"There will be physical performers as well."
"Alright."
"... Jazz?"
"Got'cha."
"JAZZ."
The sudden shout of his designation would have been enough for anyone else to be snapped to attention, but Jazz rarely got away that easily. He had been so focused on tuning the keys on the string instrument on his lap that he didn't notice the approach of the other mech. Before he realized he had gone off in his own world again, the instrument was clamoring to the floor and Jazz had his back forced to the wall.
"When I am speaking to you, you pay attention. Do you understand?" A servo slammed just to the side of his helm and he stared straight ahead at the Towerling 'owner' of his. That look on his faceplate, the irritation he showed for being obviously ignored? Jazz enjoyed seeing that look. Knowing he could cause the otherwise composed mech to lose his cool, to get under his plating that easily? Payback, and it was so sweet. It didn't come without its punishments but that would come later. "I will not tolerate it, Jazz. I have warned you to be mindful of my words and obedient to them."
Jazz tensed up when Cress leaned in close and he turned his helm to the side to avoid further optical contact with him, staying like that as the taller mech rested his chin on Jazz's raised shoulder plate. While the unwanted contact was compromising, Jazz knew that for now he was safe. Cress wouldn't dare do anything to him that could possible lead to Jazz losing focus and screwing up a performance, so at least that bought him some time and would allow the anger to fester within Cress for a while.
Sit on that for a while, you disgusting freak.
Jazz shifted a little but kept his servos at his sides against the wall, refusing to move or touch Cress. Instead he just found words as he didn't want to touch him more than he was needed to.
"I gotta go warm up for the show."
That was enough. Cress backed off him and an irritated rumble came from the base of his throat as he did so. Jazz quickly took the opportunity to move away from the wall, gather his instrument from the floor, and made his way out of his private room. No sooner was he outside of it that he exvented in relief and composed himself as he strolled far from the room. No one ever knew the situation behind the closed doors he lived on the side of. Those matters were left to the private world and he dare not share his experiences with the public. He wouldn't volunteer knowledge as being the 'pet' to the rich outside world he was shoved into being around and definitely not to Cress's friends. To Jazz, these were two different lives he lived.
Arriving at the practice hall, Jazz found a seat and took it, then focused on his instrument once more. He plucked a string, tuned it, plucked another, then repeated the process. He had ten to go through and he had to make sure they were ready for the performance. Upsetting Cress was one thing, but Jazz would not mess up what HE loved to do, even if that would be the ultimate slap in the face to his owner.
The music. The culture. This was the world Jazz-
No, not Jazz. Meister.
This was the world Meister belonged to.