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Sunstorm is an odd case.
Eyes as light as his, white, are uncommon in any cybertronian whose sparks aren’t shorting out. He would look ill if it weren’t for the bright colors of his metal. He reflects light so much he nearly comes off as a source of it, looking nearly radiated.
In the dark, his only light source being his sickly-dark eyes and the glares of the metal it reflects on. His processor aches the most, the rest of him competing for that claim. Even the soft glow of his lights is too much.
He asserts to speak the will of Primus, despite not being a Prime. He rebukes the idea of calling himself one, he claims it blasphemy. Most don’t see the difference.
The buzzing of a voice in his processor is too much for the moment. All of it unimportant, or at least as unimportant anything a God says can be unimportant. He wonders if Primus always rambles, if he speaks to anyone else like this. If he speaks to anyone else at all.
Claiming to be a prophet, however, is fine to him. It’s his main claim to fame. Despite most other mechs thinking he’s strange, most heed his advice.
He makes out a name. Starscream. A flash of light, a victory- a loss. ‘The start of something,’ he hears. It’s important, to something, or it will be. He doesn’t know if it’s happening yet. …Does the Prime hear this too?
Sunstorm, generally speaking, is thought of as kind, if not condescending. Sunstorm chats even outside of divination as if he knows more than the other converser does, and if you’re to believe his claim to divinity, he does.
‘...Of something bad.’ It’s only ever whispers. Anything else would be too loud. The whispers are loud enough for him. Optimus is on the same planet. Why couldn’t he hear this? He could do something more. What is Sunstorm supposed to do? ‘You know you like knowing more.’
He takes his job with pride. Boastful, some would call him. Smug, even less would say. Devoted, most say.
He feels a twinge of regret- guilt, perhaps. ‘I’m sorry I chose you for this.’
He leans back in the chair-throne like, comforting. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t need to.
“Primus doesn’t make mistakes,” He reminds, cheerily.