Megatron arrives with poetry in- hand, looking down and away from Rung with a gentle smile. “… I believe certain promises were made to you Rung, on how I would be as a ‘Valentine.’ If your schedule allows, I would like to show my followthrough.”

willnotgogently:

There’s a brilliant smile from Rung and he moves over to Megatron, taking his free hand and kissing it softly. “I have time. Did you have a spot picked out for us to go to, or should I steal you away into the night?”

Perhaps he imagined the pleasant hum of static that formed wherever Rung touched him. He thoroughly enjoyed it, regardless. “You make an interesting proposition. I had planned on offering to take you to my ship, but I must admit that I’ve never been “stolen away” before.” His servo turned over, so that he could brush Rung’s cheek with his claws. “At least, not without some sort of restraints involved.”

( Bee brings an insulated carafe of bitter energon coffee, brewed the analog way to be fancy and perfectly cooked. There’s a Valentine’s Day card as well. )

The aroma alone is enough bring a smile to his face. Bitter and strong. Perfection. Megatron puts the card on his shelf and it’s the brightest-colored thing on display in his room. He loves it.

::Happy Valentine’s to you as well, Bumblebee. Your gift will be thoroughly savored.::

If it was anyone else, his presence might go unnoticed. Bellator, however, was a vigilant god and the Useless One had no desire to startle him at all. Clear his throat, he tapped his finger against the crystal chalice he had been given as an offering a long while ago. Parts of the thick stem were chipped and discolored but the rim itself was safe to drink from. The real gift, however, was the thick energon inside that he offered up to Bellator. “Share a drink with me?”

 willnotgogently:

 mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

The quiet ring of the chalice stirs the war god from his vigil, pulling his thoughts away from the turmoil within. An offering from a mortal was one thing, but from one of his fellow deities? Even sharing drink held significance. Bellator took the chalice in his blunted hand, drinking deep enough from it to leave the Useless One only his remaining half. A trickle of lifeblood ran from the gash in his jaw.

“You are generous, Useless One. You honor me.” He held the glass before his chest, and soon the energon swirled and popped with heat. Only then did he offer it back, paying the smaller god in kind with something of his own.

Bellator was keenly aware that the world of mortals was reaching a time of peace. His flame was not as bright as it had been just years before. It was cooling, but even without war, there would always be conflict. As the kind of battle would change, so too would he. He had accepted it; it was not the first time.

The Useless One never seemed to change, which was both a comfort and a worry. He had seen gods fade into obscurity, bereft of their power and sustenance as they were forgotten. Rung’s very nature lent itself to the obscure, and put him in even more danger. The mention of an acolyte brings a smile to the war god’s face. “You did not. It is good to hear that you yet gain followers, Rung. Was he a warrior?”

“Not a warrior, a cleaner.” Rung was cheerful as ever, happy to have this acolyte even if what they used to do wasn’t glamorous.  The only thing that dampened that happiness was how he had gotten them.  “Their name is Tonton.  It… wasn’t a happy thing that brought them to my temple.  Their frame was altered without their consent.  But once I took them in, they started to heal.  In spark at least.  I was hoping that I might find the one who did it and find out why… try to -fix- things.  But Tonton doesn’t desire revenge for what happened to them.”

“I see.”

There was no apathy or forgiveness in his domain; such things were his antithesis. It was no wonder then that this acolyte was unknown to him warrior or not, but he could feel the conflict in Rung’s voice. Looking down at their linked arms, Bellator could recall mortal pairs he’d observed, showing affection through such simple contact. His opposite servo closed over Rung’s.

“Even if vengeance is not your Tonton’s wish, it is clearly yours. I would love to be in your service again to bring pain to your enemies.”

A request for coordinates is sent, along with a greeting ping. Megatron will be coming with medic in- tow, a vehicon with prominent weldscars at his waist.

thesoundlessvoid:

Blackout warns Riella that Megatron is coming, so she can head out and be elsewhere, before pinging the warlord back. Come on over.

Megatron steps through the ground bridge first, waiting for the medic to follow before ordering it closed. The makeshift lair feels more like an Earth animal’s den than a base, carved into the very rock. Even so, it is both foreign and familiar, the smokey fire at its center reminiscent of those in the mines miles below Kaon’s surface. It’s almost enough to make him nostalgic, before he sees the damage Grindor has done to his lost soldier. To finally get him back after so long only to have him nearly taken by one of Unicron’s heralds… They are no longer at war, but he resolves to make Grindor answer for his crimes, one way or another.

The medic fidgeted at his side, clutching a medkit but waiting for permission to start working. Megatron pulled a piece of glass with metal edges out from behind his back, offering it to the tyton with his customary glare. “…Singer will get this reattached momentarily, but your senses are more vital. Are you able to see? Hear?”

If it was anyone else, his presence might go unnoticed. Bellator, however, was a vigilant god and the Useless One had no desire to startle him at all. Clear his throat, he tapped his finger against the crystal chalice he had been given as an offering a long while ago. Parts of the thick stem were chipped and discolored but the rim itself was safe to drink from. The real gift, however, was the thick energon inside that he offered up to Bellator. “Share a drink with me?”

 willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

The quiet ring of the chalice stirs the war god from his vigil, pulling his thoughts away from the turmoil within. An offering from a mortal was one thing, but from one of his fellow deities? Even sharing drink held significance. Bellator took the chalice in his blunted hand, drinking deep enough from it to leave the Useless One only his remaining half. A trickle of lifeblood ran from the gash in his jaw.

“You are generous, Useless One. You honor me.” He held the glass before his chest, and soon the energon swirled and popped with heat. Only then did he offer it back, paying the smaller god in kind with something of his own.

Bellator rumbled, considering Rung’s truth. “It was no small thing indeed, but neither was your offering. Few of our kind would extend such a gesture without expecting anything in return.” Out of respect, the tendrils of fire receded to a more concentrated point in the hollow of his chest, away from where they might graze his fellow.

“My temples are decrepit and long-forgotten, but my warriors carry me with them. They carve my glyphs into their plating, their weapons. They shed their energon on the ground for my blade to soak it up. I am always with them, alter or no.”

As long as those glyphs remain, Bellator will always be there and for that Rung is more relaxed.  He wasn’t certain that the other god would still do well in a world where there were less battles now, he didn’t want to see him forgotten.  As the Useless One it would be inevitable that he would be forgotten.  He was a footnote in the eyes of the general population and he was used to that. Bellator deserved better than that.

“Then I suppose they can give offering to you no matter where they go, that’s good.” Rung smiled warmly and turned so he could slip his arm into Bellator’s own, giving it a light squeeze.  “I have a new acolyte, did I tell you about them before..?”

Bellator was keenly aware that the world of mortals was reaching a time of peace. His flame was not as bright as it had been just years before. It was cooling, but even without war, there would always be conflict. As the kind of battle would change, so too would he. He had accepted it; it was not the first time.

The Useless One never seemed to change, which was both a comfort and a worry. He had seen gods fade into obscurity, bereft of their power and sustenance as they were forgotten. Rung’s very nature lent itself to the obscure, and put him in even more danger. The mention of an acolyte brings a smile to the war god’s face. “You did not. It is good to hear that you yet gain followers, Rung. Was he a warrior?”

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

Bellator straightens up, closing his eyes as the fire within him dwindles to a single point of light before expanding again, into a dancing flame of violet and lilac. The rest of the world seems to fade away as he does this, the only light coming from the flickering tendrils as they twist.

“Megatron, my chosen, carries this with him always. A bright flame that guides his actions, filling him when he must fight.” As he explains, Bellator’s mouth no longer moves, but the flame shifts, growing and transforming into solid shapes for mere moments before flickering into the next. The orb that is Cybertron, the Decepticon sigil, fangs spread wide in a silent warcry, a cube, the silhouettes of many mechs both recognizable and not flitting into the next until Bee’s form is clearly visible. “You are here, fuel to his fire.”

After a few more seconds, everything comes back into focus, and the god’s flame returns to its ethereal white flux. He opens his optics again with a grin. “His will is stronger for having it there, and for that, you are in my favor.”

(Bee’s knocked back by the display of power, and he’s silent for a long while.) 

That was so cool.

Ah, mortals. He would never tire of their reactions.

“My time grows short here, Bumblebee. My vessel will return to his senses, and though his inspiration may be less… visual when he awakes, it will remain.”

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

the-scrappy-stinger:

Yeah! If you’re fixing up any bot who’s been beaten and broken? And then giving them the power to keep going? You’re definitely a mechanic! 

The god considers Bee for a moment, his light steadily beginning to brighten.

“Most of my kind may disdain being compared to a mortal, but in this regard, I consider it high praise. I can see why my vessel’s flame often takes your form.”

(And that loses him.) His flame does the what now? 

Bellator straightens up, closing his eyes as the fire within him dwindles to a single point of light before expanding again, into a dancing flame of violet and lilac. The rest of the world seems to fade away as he does this, the only light coming from the flickering tendrils as they twist.

“Megatron, my chosen, carries this with him always. A bright flame that guides his actions, filling him when he must fight.” As he explains, Bellator’s mouth no longer moves, but the flame shifts, growing and transforming into solid shapes for mere moments before flickering into the next. The orb that is Cybertron, the Decepticon sigil, fangs spread wide in a silent warcry, a cube, the silhouettes of many mechs both recognizable and not flitting into the next until Bee’s form is clearly visible. “You are here, fuel to his fire.”

After a few more seconds, everything comes back into focus, and the god’s flame returns to its ethereal white flux. He opens his optics again with a grin. “His will is stronger for having it there, and for that, you are in my favor.”

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

the-scrappy-stinger:

… (squints as he thinks, trying to find a good analogy) … ooooh! 

You’re their jump battery!

Bellator stares, trying to think of a reason to be offended by this comparison. Finding none, he can only agree.

“For those who call upon me. Am I then not mechanic as well?”

Yeah! If you’re fixing up any bot who’s been beaten and broken? And then giving them the power to keep going? You’re definitely a mechanic! 

The god considers Bee for a moment, his light steadily beginning to brighten.

“Most of my kind may disdain being compared to a mortal, but in this regard, I consider it high praise. I can see why my vessel’s flame often takes your form.”