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randomfirebug-142 · 2 days ago

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Lost Echoes

Part ??? This is a much shorter one-shot than the part one of Lost Echoes. And also Much later in the timeline of events! (I write things out of order)

It's not really important to this story, but i was listening to this (← flash warning) on loop while writing it :]

Jazz is not having a good time

————

It was quiet.

The machine from below the floor was rumbling as always, but it was quiet. No children, no guests. No arguing staff.

Quiet.

...

Gate five was open, so four was probably open too. And if the ones past that aren't open, he could just open them himself. He could swim through the aquarium. Maybe play around in the sand a bit. The sand's quite soft. It's not deep enough to bury himself in it, but it's something.

Jazz remembers when his little self kept digging it up, looking for something, and only meeting hard ground after four scoops. He'd practically dug up the whole aquarium floor. Staff weren't happy with him at all, when he did that.

He stopped doing it when they stopped talking to him.

People's voices always brought a settling comfort to him.

...

Turning away from the camera, Jazz swam to gate six, still covered in that net. It hurt, when he pressed his hand into it hard enough. It hurt. The staff put it there for a reason. He should stop touching it.

"..prowl?"

Jazz should've counted how many times he's called that name now. It felt like the early days, when he first woke up here. Calling and calling and calling for someone knowing they'd respond. Whoever it was that he kept calling for; They never did.

A headache was blooming. He'd been pressing his head against the net. It hurts.

"Prowl?"

It's quiet. It's as quiet as it always is. It's quiet.

There's nothing to do.

He shouldn't touch the net, it was put there for a reason.

It's quiet.

That lullaby came to mind. He could sing it. That would make it stop being quiet.

...

There's no point in singing a lullaby when there's no one else to hear it. Maybe that's why he'd stopped singing it.

"prowler?"

Prowl didn't correct him.

He could go and lay in the sand. It's soft. His chest hurt.

Stop touching the net.

"..."

He could practice his words. The words he knows. He'll remember more of them the more he speaks. It's good to remember.

He doesn't remember.

" "

It would be easier to talk with Prowl when he comes back. He's an orca, just like him. They're not the same, but they...

Orcas have better lives in captivity. They live longer.

Prowl will die.

Why would they do that to him? It's dangerous outside. Prowl was brought in because he was hurt. It's dangerous outside.

Did they not know he was an orca? The two of them looked pretty different, from what Jazz could see. ... That would make sense.

...

"...prowl..?"

It's quiet.

It's only been a few weeks. Why?

There's a hole in the net. His fingers hurt.

Prowl was teaching him words. He should practice.

It's quiet.

His fingers hurt.

It hurt.

It hurts.

Orcas have better lives in captivity.

They must've not known Prowl was an orca.

It hurts.

Why was there a net? None of his previous neighbours made the staff put up a net on the gate.

Orcas. They're both orcas.

His throat felt like it was being crushed.

His hands are bleeding. Some of the net's wiring was stuck in his skin.

It’s quiet. It hurt too much.

He finally went up to breathe.

The camera was almost invisible, hidden behind the bright rays of light. The camera watched them talk.

They’re both orcas. The camera watched them.

Where is he.

Orcas die in the wild.

Where is he.

They know he’s an orca.

Where is he.

Gate five and four are open. The training room is empty.

The blood was getting in the way, but he still managed to open gate three.

Prowl’s not in the aquarium.

The training room is empty. Gate four and five are open.

With no net in the way, he finally opens gate six.

Prowl’s room is empty.

Climbing on to the ground out of the water, Jazz reached the door.

It’s locked.

Blood dripped from the handle as he squeezed, grip tight enough to break bones. He yanked.

Again.

Ag–

The door was open.

His hand hurt.

Where is Prowl.

The floor is much colder than the water. It’s rough against his skin.

He’s been through here before.

Corridor.

Door.

Corridor.

Door.

He listens. He clicks.

He will find him.

It hurts.

Hurt.

Prowl is an orca. Their lives are better here than in the wild.

Hurt.

He must’ve gotten hurt.

He has to be in the medicine pool.

It’s dangerous outside.

The floor claws at his skin.

Doors. More doors. And more.

Colourful walls turn white.

The ground is even colder here.

It’s noisy.

People in different rooms. Sea lions barking. People laughing- cooing. Praising.

Where is he.

A drawn out note escapes his throat.

His hand is shaking, as he opens the door to his medicine room.

Prowl’s not here.

Not.

There’s other pools for larger fish than him. Prowl is larger than him.

Did he pass those rooms? He could’ve. He’s only ever been in this one.

Prowl would’ve responded to his calling.

Further ahead?

Jazz calls again.

The windows on the doors are too high for him to see.

Jazz calls again.

Keep going.

Jazz calls again.

Kee– Prowl responds. He responded.

Prowl is Here.

Where. What room.

Jazz calls.

Where.

Prowl responds.

Again.

Whe–

There.

There!

There!!

Blood made his grip slip, but he managed. The door wasn’t locked.

A loud clang echoed from the door handle as Jazz hastily let go, forcing his way inside.

Prowl was there. Prowl was There. Prowl was Here.

Wrapped up in that medical bag in the water, so he doesn’t hurt himself. What was wrong with him? What happened?

There’s noise in the hallway.

His skin was too dry, it took painful effort to drag himself forward to Prowl.

Jazz called for him.

Prowl didn’t respond. Why?-

“Ricochet!”

A staff member? What?-

“Rico what are you doing here?! How did you get here?-”

Multiple of them– Doctors too?-

Get off him. He needs Prowl.

"Rico I know you want to see your friend but-!"

Hands keep pushing him back.

"Ricochet!"

Let him go.

"Down!"

Prowl was trapped, he couldn't move.

"Ricochet! Down, boy! Stop!"

Let Go.

"Ricochet! Rico–"

A whistle pierced his ears and his side. They finally let go. He can go.

Jazz dragged his way forward, Prowl was watching his side.

He was clicking- a warning? Danger? Where?

Prowl.

He was heavy.

The water washed the blood from his hands.

Prowl was scared.

He can't move.

He can’t move.

He can’t

He was on the ground.

He can’t get up.

There's hands on him again.

Prowl was buzzing? Growling. He was growling.

They couldn't move.

Give him back.

Please.

Give him back.

Prowl.

Help.

Prowl.

Prow

...

It was quiet. The machine from below the floor was rumbling as always, but it was quiet. No children, no guests. No arguing staff.

Quiet.

...

It hurts.

————

Note: Orcas do not live longer in the wild. Orcas in captivity actively suffer and, in fact, die sooner than they would in the wild.

This is not the possible part two I had started writing snippets of; but the thoughts possessed me and so now this part exists.

Sorry if the formatting was weird to read through! It was a bit funky to try and adjust it from my documents into a tumblr post. Other than that, this was pretty fun to write! Hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable to read, too ^^

Apocalyptic Ponyo AU belongs to @keferon ! I'm just playing around with it :D

#apocalyptic ponyo #le apocalyptic ponyo #transformers #merformers #tf jazz #tf prowl

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randomfirebug-142 · 6 days ago

Text

Lost Echoes

Possible part one?

I wanted to try and play around with the language barrier a little for the Apocalyptic Ponyo AU (@keferon) Jazzprowl.

English isn't my native language, so there might be some grammar mistakes. Hope it's ok :D

————

Muffled cheering echoed as Ricochet swam circles along the sides of the pool. Once, twice, slow to a stop by the shallow. Let Rose (who's never smelled like the flower) climb off him– don't help her up, don't move away– before her whistle rang out for a second.

Swim another circle around the perimeter.

Whistle.

Roll to side, splash some water into the air with his tail for some extra flair– aw there's some kids here!– Salute the kids. (Very important. Look at them, they're jumping.)

Whistle.

Go under, finish the loop, and go through the opening gate that’s mostly hidden. Ignore the bar snagging his fin (ow) and keep going as the announcer wraps up the show. Second gate opens, swim through the public aquarium, salute those kids there (they look so squishy..) annnd through the third gate.

Out from the public, out from the show. Ricochet enters the somehow over bright training room and finally stops moving.

His back hurt.

Nothing against Rose, she tries to be careful while on him, but you can only swim around the surface so many times with someone standing and sitting on your back, as well as hold someone up by their feet while the only thing below you is more water, before things start to hurt. Not exactly easy keeping himself from sinking while acrobatics are happening on him.

The show was the last of today, meaning (after confirming that the noise is quieting down,) that the aquarium is closing.

He could really go for a nap right now.

A click echoed out through the white-tiled room before the door squeaked open.

Rose came in with a new bucket of fish– wait there's red in there. Is he gonna get crabs?? Did he do that good??? Oh hell yeah he's getting some Crabs!!!– Ricochet quickly swam to the shallow end of the pool, earning a hearty chuckle from the lady.

"You did great today Rico, so I brought you your favourite. Up!"

The whistle's shriek was mostly drowned out over the water splashing loudly from how quickly he pushed himself into the deeper end, going low before jumping up high with all his might– swiping his treasure from the air in time– before crashing back into the depths.

Rose's laughter reverberated through the water and his chest, soon to be joined by the sound of crab shell snapping loudly in his mouth. Teeth crushing the plating apart easily, to get to the soft meat within.

"Slow down or you'll choke again!" Rose said, handing him two fish (boo) that he bit the heads off while trying to reach for the bucket. He can hear that plating clanging against the metal, you can't fool him.

Rose, the cruel woman that she is, jumped away before he could steal it from her.

"Hey now! If you're gonna be that greedy I might not give you the second crab after all."

How dare you. He was the bestest and prettiest boy today, he deserves that second crab.

Give.

".....oh.... Alright, alright... Stop sulking in the water you big oaf. You know you're too cute for me to say no."

Damn right he is.

Finishing the rest of his fish, he swam up to the shallow end again, mimicking the “grabby hands” he's seen some especially little kids do. And just like with the babies, Rose gives him what he wants. His well deserved crab.

Best thing in the world.

He should watch the kids more often when he's not doing any shows. They have so many tricks to get what they want successfully, aside from downright theft.

Though he's pretty good at that one, too.

Rose said something about a new neighbor while she left. He didn't really care, he was too busy eating.

With the fourth and fifth gate open, he swam into his "bedroom," gate five closing as soon as he got through.

Low light, old walls and tiled floors with nothing else to say about them, other than the quiet rumbling of a machine far below. Maybe he should decorate the space some more. Add another few scratches to the growing collection inside of this box.

He's been making sure to let his nails grow out a bit, lately, after having worn them down until they were blunt nothing's. So he could.

Not like there's anything else to do.

Jazz doesn't feel like moving.

…

Probably not.

He should sleep.

...

..or not. Apparently.

Whoever his "new neighbor" is, they've been moving so much the water sloshing against the walls could be compared to ocean's waves at this point. How's he supposed to fall asleep if there’s so much noise?

Rude.

"{Hey can you stop?}"

Jazz drawled. All of his neighbours throughout his life have really improved his English, he must say. When he first tried talking he sounded like that one man with a swollen tongue after some insect bit him. Now? He mostly just sounds like someone with food in their mouth.

Not li-

A shower of water flew over the thinner, dividing, wall and to his side– some plashing him in the face– interrupting his thoughts.

"{Okay that's even more rude than you making a whirlpool over the-.}"

Water was flung over to his side along with some snappy short-but-fast clicking.

Bitch??? Two can play at that game.

Turning on his stomach, Jazz swam two or three meters away from the wall with left behind drops of water crawling their way down to his pool, before angling himself to be right in front of the area where there's the most dripping down.

Quiet as a mouse, his tail dips low below, before catapulting water up with enough force to almost make him summersault.

Water rushes up and over and– score! A disgruntled buzz?- no, sonar– low enough to sound buzzy– tells him he hit the dumb fish that decided to refuse him of his beauty sleep.

He waited for the water to be chucked over the wall in retaliation, but nothing happened. Fishy gave up so soon already? Boring.

Oh well. Maybe he can finally sleep now.

…

...

...ok what the hell.

First he couldn't sleep because the neighbor was being rude, now he can't sleep because he got what he wanted?

It's too quiet. No– It’s as quiet as it always is, and as it’s supposed to be. Why can’t he sleep.

Rolling around a few times, leaning against a corner, counting whatever sheep are supposed to be, hugging his tail– Nothing is helping. Jazz huffs, letting go of his tail with force, spraying a row of water on the (not neighbour’s) wall. (See how polite he is?)

Ricochet won two crabs but at what cost. (His sleep, apparently.)

With a groan, Jazz eyed the sixth gate. His neighbor's door, technically. Technically also the first gate and not the sixth. It really depends what direction you start from. It was closed, but the keepers must've put up some sort of....... Thing. Over it. He can't see the other side.

"{Hey fishbones, you shy or feral?}"

Water curled from something– a tail?– dipping. Jazz waited. Eyed the wall for water to fly in, but the other’s tail stayed under. By the sounds of it, the fish submerged completely.

Jazz approached the... net? under water. Tiny metal wires woven together like fabric, covering the gate. If he pressed his face against it (ow-) he could see into the other room pretty well.

It’s as empty as his. And actually used to Be his, before he decided he liked this box more. Walls barely decorated at all. Only one or two scratches around, but those are the older ones from his previous neighbours (his ones were filled and painted up.) This one hasn’t done anything to the space, as far as he can tell. Or he has, and it just so happens to be on the wall that the gate is a part of. He’s apparently also very determined to stay out of Jazz’s sight. Jazz had only seen the white end of a tail-fin for a second before the new guy moved even further out of sight.

Rude. Jazz just wanted to say hi.

“{Knock knock. You home?}”

No water shenanigans. Guess neighbor boy isn’t in the mood to splash him for talking, anymore.

He can feel the water swaying again. A harsh swish audible every seven or so seconds. That guy must be really antsy about being in there. Doesn’t sound like he’s small… maybe around his size? Larger? Pacing incredibly fast. Powerful tail. Been a while since someone else larger than him was brought here.

For a moment, Jazz considered talking some more, since he has nothing better to do and the other guy doesn’t seem to like it. (Doesn’t even appreciate the effort that goes into mimicking human sounds under water.) But without a body to watch or the guy chucking water over the wall anymore; there’s no real fun in it.

…

Well. Might as well play nice. It’s been a few years since he’s had a neighbour, and even if they don’t seem to understand anything he tries to communicate, he’d rather not lose the new company only a few days after getting it.

Swimming back to the water’s surface– the guy paused his swimming for a second– Jazz laid on his back. Taking the moment to breathe for a bit, running thoughts through his mind.

Neighbour probably wouldn’t like any songs Jazz had learned from his stay here. Too unfamiliar, right? Right.

There is one song he knows… well, two actually. But it feels wrong to share the other one, (why?-) So there’s one song he knows that might help.

Jazz can only guess where he heard it from. It’s….. Comforting. He knows that.

Always thinks back on the song when the need to start biting the bars or bashing his head against the wall in this place got too strong.

Swimming slow circles, Jazz dipped just a bit lower into the water to make sure the sound travels properly, and starts with the low note. Drawing it out before flowing into a higher one with some klicks in between.

Why did he actually stop singing this song?

The sound echoed all around him. The water making him live in the song itself.

Strong arms holding him snugly.

Repetitive, slow, calming.

Right.

This was a lullaby.

When was the last time he held a hand much larger than his own?

Okay no need for those- Stop- Put those thoughts away. He’s supposed to be comforting the new guy (who stopped swimming,) not wallow in his own head. One note to the next, the song gets strung together like connecting rivers that he’s occasionally heard about. He’s a bit rusty in a few places, not having made these sounds in a while, but the song is still beautiful. It’s what would’ve been home, if he knew what that was.

Clicking softly, he was about to repeat the song again, when his neighbour clicked something by his gate.

Jazz cracked open an eye (when did he close them?) and looked over, seeing the vague silhouette of hands and a torso.

The neighbour clicked again in a pattern; it sounded familiar. Diving into the water, he could still hear the remaining echoes of those clicks around him. It was odd- it filled him- it was– Jazz knew that pattern. How does he know?- He’s heard it before- where?-

Pressing his hands against the net(?) Jazz blinked at the sight of blue eyes that matched his own. The gate between the net didn’t let him touch the other fish. (Person?)

His… He clicked again, same pattern from before. Jazz blinked, listening to the echoes of each set of clicks (they came in sets! A structure- A-) Jazz perked up, startling the other a little.

That was! Oh what was that- um. The last bit was “You,” right? How does he-

Jazz pulled back his right hand, circling it a few times while tilting his head, before putting it back where it was. He couldn’t see much, but the other… orca….? Looked a little confused.

One more time, he repeated himself. A little more slowly this time. (Thank god.)

“[Where are you?]”

No no, he wouldn’t ask that, Jazz is in front of him. “Who?” Is that it? Oh right! “Where” and “Who” sounded similar! "Who" having the last click cut off instead of drawn out. Right!!! “Who are you!!” Oh wait he should answer-

“I…” Jazz looked to the top of the gate, the next word at the tip of his tongue but somehow out of his reach. He huffed a bit, instead putting his hand on his chest.

“Jazz.”

The orca moved his head back a little with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Who are you?”

Does he not believe him?

“Jazz. Me.”

He touched his collarbone a few times, hoping the other orca could see it.

“Jazz.” “zh- … Zh..aasz…??”

Oh right, English is weird.

“J aazzzz. Jazz.”

“...zh- xh– Jah. “J. asz.. szzz. ZZ. “..Jaazz…??”

“Yeah! Jazz!” He chirped, barely keeping himself from doing a flip out of excitement. Oh he had so many questions! How does he ask them? How-

“Prowl.”

Huh?

“I [am] Prowl. [???] you [?] here?”

What.

“...heeere…??”

Prowl regarded him for a moment, clicking a few times in thought. Not words this time, it seems. Just brain noise. After a moment, Prowl gestured with his hand for Jazz to get closer.

Though there wasn’t really… any closer he could get??? Other than pressing his face against the net and bars.

Technically he Could open the gate. He knows how. They have this neat lil trick to opening them in case any power goes out. Humans would need their tools to reach it properly, but his larger hands do the job just fine. Sadly: The staff know that he knows how to do that. And clearly blocked that off as much as possible with the net (that he could definitely tear away but. Any metal thread will hurt to tear open. And he’d really rather not start bleeding on his new roommate.)

So! Shoving his face into the net is clearly the better option!

Thankfully, Prowl didn’t want him to Actually actually shove his face into it, motioning for Jazz to stop a centimeter or so away from the barrier between them, before he himself got close, too. Squinting his brighter eyes at him as if he’s trying to spot if his food had gone bad or not. Prowl started to eventually guide him around, too. Motioning for him to tilt his head down, up, left and right. (What are you, a doctor?) Before he backed off, resting his curled index over his lips. In the meantime, while Prowl prowled about in his thoughts, Jazz decided to go for an air break before coming back down to the gate. Crossing his arms on the floor and making himself comfortable. Watching the silhouette of Prowl until the orca got close to him again.

“[???] [you?] [?????] ?” “What.” The clicks and notes were way off. Honestly he’s not even sure if that “you” was actually a “you.” The simple note that it was made out of before was now that same note! Sure! But ending with a harsh click for some reason.

Prowl nodded with a hum, cocking his head a little.

“How [did?] you [?] here?”

“uh… How… did? I um… here…. Flow? No- no uh. um.” Jazz tapped the floor, pressing his forehead against it for a moment, hunting that damn word like his life depends on it.

“Come!” Jazz popped his head back up, startling Prowl again with the movement. Technically the word he used is “swim,” but he remembers them being the same thing.

“How did I come here?”

“...yes. How did you [get?] here.” Prowl tapped the net, pointing at Jazz. “Northern [??]”

“...nnorthern? What?”

Prowl watched him again for a moment, tapping his sharp claw against the net.

“From [the] north? You? Polyhex?”

“Polyhex.”

A name that crashed through his mind like a bucket of ice down his back. He.. Knows that name. It… What was it..?

‘From the north,’ Prowl said. It’s a place. It’s a Place. He Was there. Wasn’t he?

He must’ve been!– But he can’t?– No the memories are there he can Feel them– How else would he know it? Why would that name alone be a glacier of deep emotion?

“You..! You uhm..” Curse his brain. Remember damnit. “You…..go..? Go.. was? To Polyhex?”

“Once…” Prowl paused… trying to find the right words? Probably trying to accommodate him. He clearly didn’t have any trouble talking before.

“Work. I was there [for] work, once.”

Jazz was about to try and talk again– he needs to remember– but Prowl beat him to it, furrowing his brow a bit while glancing at the ground for a moment.

“I [??]. “Go” [and] “Was.”” Left hand (“go”) curled into a loose fist while Prowl gestured with his right. Deliberately moving it over and to the left of his fist. (“was”) A show of…. “Behind”..? No- “Before!” The past!

“[??] “Go and Was is [??]”

“[Went?]”

Jazz repeated the noise, tail swishing behind him while he used the gate to keep himself in place.

Prowl nodded, repeating the word again in confirmation.

“I went there once. For work.”

He could barely keep a trill from escaping him. He’s remembering them!! He’s remembering the words he forgot!! Jazz had forgotten just how filling his mother-tongue felt in his mouth. The words were so clear and easy and smooth. He doesn’t have to force the sounds in his throat and nose to come out in specific ways just to say something. He can just Say it! Say everything!

“How did you get here?”

Prowl repeats. Words a little slow to help Jazz keep up with them.

And that sure is a question. A bit too vague to his liking. Now how does he ask for more details… (no, this isn't a ploy to hear Prowl talk some more.)

“How did I… come here?” Jazz waved to their general surroundings. “What is uh.. No cave, cave? …ssssong?”

“”Song” is [Word.] The word for this [??], for this “not cave, cave” is [room.]”

“Yeah!!” (He really should stop surprising the other mer with sudden bursts of movement.)

“How did I come here to… to um…. this. To this room?”

He tilt his head, watching Prowl for a moment before pointing to gate number five.

“There. Behind.. this,” Jazz tapped the gate separating them, “is…. not cave. Long.” Similar to what Prowl had done before, Jazz decided charades were needed, and made his left arm bend into an arc before passing his right arm (like it’s swimming) through it.

“Long. Not cave.”

“... “..[tunnel?]”

“[Tunnel!] Maybe!”

The only thing keeping him from resting his head on his hands again is him continuously using them to form his words.

“Go from here, to tunnel, to uh… room! And then more room. “The room is like you! Like- like um.. uh.”

Jazz waved his hand towards what he could see of Prowl’s face, clearly only confusing him more than he already was, before remembering that he’s an idiot actually and could use his own body to demonstrate. Curling his tail over his head and pointing to the underside of his fin.

“Like you! Like light?”

The movement made Prowl have A reaction. The net obscured what exactly it was, but he backed away a tiny bit, staring at Jazz’s tail (that he was peeking out at him from below) with slightly wider eyes. After a moment of silent staring (and Prowl shifting away more,) he shook his head. Waving his hand upward a few times until Jazz stopped curling the tail over himself. Only then did he speak again.

“[White?] “The room is white?”

“Uh, yes!”

At least he assumed Prowl understood and that the word he used was the colour and not something else. Speaking of– Prowl shook his head again.

“No-”

He blinked, lowered his head and shoulders a millimeter, held up a hand and went up for some air– Wow he swims fast– returning almost immediately. (Did he even breathe??)

“Do you [re-] … “Do you know, how you got here. [From] Polyhex.”

Ah.

“Nuh-uh.”

If he blinked a second later, Jazz would’ve missed the tiniest narrowing of Prowl’s eyes.

“I am- uh. Uh.. “Hm.”

Jazz closed his eyes, covering them with his hands too for good measure, before undoing his actions with a very slight dramatic flare.

“That..? I was… arh.…”

“[???]”

“Huh?”

Prowl eyed the gate and its net before regarding himself. Pushing himself over to almost be touching the wall next to them before curling up. Resting his head on his crossed arms and closing one of his eyes, keeping the other on Jazz.

“[Sleeping.]” He repeats.

“Ah! Um um!! Yes? No? That, but… after! When light.” Jazz pointed up, where the sun would be if it weren’t for the ceiling. And if it didn’t probably set by now.

Prowl followed his motion. Coming out of his position and going back to how he held himself before. Perfectly replicating the pose he had, somehow.

“...[Woke up?]”

Spoken, unintentionally, softly. Jazz could almost hear– feel a “did i wake you up?” wash over him. What?- (who?)

“a-Ah yeah! I uhm. I.” Not important right now. “I woke up. Here.”

Prowl hummed again, glancing away while thinking, probably. Jazz seized the opportunity to feel his (rapid) heartbeat in his chest.

His body felt wrong.

He needed to remember.

Crossing his arms and forcing his body to look relaxed, Jazz laid his head on his arms. Tilting it slightly, watching. (If only the net wasn’t there.)

“What..? uh…” He doesn’t have the words he needs. “....how is uh. Polyhex?”

Prowl blinked at him, ripped out of his thoughts to process the question, and Jazz’s change in position.

“..It is [??] [?]. The [???] …. [??] ? Hm… “... “The… “rooms” are [????] nicely. More [?] are [going?] there, [which] [??] is and isn’t [???].”

“Ah.. really? That’s uh. Good to know.”

Jazz smiled easily, as Prowl hummed before talking some more about Polyhex, getting faster and using even more words he couldn’t understand at all. “About Polyhex,” well, probably. Prowl hadn’t explicitly brought up the name again so he could only guess that Prowl is still talking about (his home?) that place, since that’s what Jazz had asked him about. What could he be rambling about while answering “how is Polyhex?” The economic state of the place?? Come on, now.

Jazz sighed. He really needs to remember.

“{Welp!}”

Jazz stretched– cutting off Prowl before he started another intelligible sentence– moving away from the gate a little.

“It’s uh… stars. time.” That works. “Sooo… we {should} sleep.”

Prowl hesitated a little, lifting his hand for a moment before putting it back down and offering a nod.

“It is [??]. “Stars time.” [Night.]” … “Sleeping isn’t a bad [idea.]”

“Ok, good! Uh. Bye-bye, then!”

With a wave, Jazz swam into the middle of his room again, laying on his back while staring at the turned off lights. Offering a small wave to the camera nestled in one of them.

“... “...Good night.”

Prowl offered, quietly. Before- by the sounds of it- swimming to a corner to try and sleep.

A good hour passed before Prowl finally fell asleep. Jazz was tempted to go out into the aquarium, but didn’t want to risk waking up Prowl with his movements. So he just stayed where he was. Staring at the same ceiling. The faint hum of machinery from below the floor being his only company, as his eyes roamed over the metal wiring over the lights, again and again. Noticing new spots where the painted white had chipped off.

Again and again, over and over. Until he, too, eventually fell asleep.

————

My writing is so slow... This took me about over a week I think hdhd I have some snippets written out of a potential part two! If I ever do finish it, it'll probably be weeks from now, though.

Oh, here's a fun fact for you !

There was a beluga whale named NOC (“no-see,” i believe?) that told a diver to get out of the water, once. He sounds like he’s playing a kazoo, if you listen to a video of him mimicking human sounds. As someone who spends every summer swimming in a river; the “pattern” he’s mimicking is actually very similar to what it sounds like when you try to talk while under water (minus all of the air bubbles coming out of your mouth.)

Oh also, since it probably isn't very clear; Prowl going from somewhat comprehensible, to not comprehensible in the slightest, to mostly comprehensible when he asked "How did you get here," is because he was switching between dialects :]

#how do i tag this uh #apocalyptic ponyo #le apocalyptic ponyo #?#for the story name?#also sounds silly; like i'm using a french uh “the”#transformers #tf jazz #tf prowl #merformers #o(-(

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