Megatron couldn't think of the last time he had just rested. Not hastily recovering from some injury, or deep in a coma with a hole blasted through his chest, not even the grasp of death-though brief- had been restful, or left him feeling as rejuvenated as he felt when his optics opened once more.

Sitting in the quiet had barely gentled his thoughts, but he'd swallowed down the energon Scribe had brought to him; he at least needed to heal enough to leave the berth. That was the first step to leaving these tiny villagers behind.

Unfortunately, this energon had seemed to have an unusual effect on him. Nothing about it had seemed out of the ordinary for a typical batch, and yet after finishing it, he had found himself feeling very drowsy. Had it been tampered with? Had these tiny bots drugged him?

As his optics opened, he heard movement in the room, and instinct took over. He sat up and aimed his fusion cannon in one swift motion, though he found that his fusion cannon did not activate.

What it was pointed at was another Telensi, taller than the others that had previously been there, and dressed in garments marked with tassels and swirling silver threads. He seemed to not be bothered by the warlord's actions at all, merely giving him a glance and then returning to the scribbling he was doing on a sheet of fabric on a slab of stone.

Once it was determined there was no threat, Megatron found his framing feeling heavy again, and his arm dropped to the berth with a clank.

"Morning." The telensi mumbled, "Better?"
Megatron didn't speak at first, trying to determine what this telensi might be in the room for. The telensi scribbled some more, and then paused to look up at him once more. "...Are you better?" He repeated.

Megatron frowned, "I suppose... What happened to me? What did you put in that... Sacred fuel?"

The Telensi raised a brow slightly, "Put?"

"You must have done something. I have not slept like that in a long time."

"You are exhausted."

"How could I be this exhausted if I have been out for three years?"

The telensi tilted his head, his expression flatter than the Acid Wastes. "Unconsciousness is not rest, Ancient."

This telensi wasn't speaking in broken sentences, "You speak better than the others do."

"Better is a relative term. I am naturally gifted with the understanding of others, hence why The High Gatewatcher has me for his aide."

Megatron blinked, lifting a hand to rub the slumber from his face. "High Gatewatcher..."

"Our leader. Wise in his ways, long in his reign." The telensi slipped his tablet into a satchel tucked under his shawl, "You met my sister. Scribe."

Now that the warlord looked, the telensi did look like the little femme. "Yes... I did."

"She is happy to see you awake." The telensi frowned, "...I am not as happy."

"Why?"

"You bear deep wounds. You are a fighter. The Telensi do not need bloodlust in our city."

Finally, someone on this planet who wanted him gone. "I see..."

"You are in no condition to fight, or run. I have no intention of chasing you out because of this. But know this, I do not trust you, Ancient, as much as my sister may..."

"I have given you no reason to trust me."

The curtain to the room moved and another telensi peeked in, murmuring something in a cautious tone to the aide. It was not in a tongue Megatron knew, but the skeptic's name was at least intelligible: Stonerook. The other continually gave Megatron quick glances as he spoke, and Stonerook responded in a way that made the other frown. Both of them then left the room, with Stonerook pausing at the door. "Rest, Ancient. The sooner you recover, the sooner you may leave..."

_____________________________________________________

Megatron found himself sleeping again, though not for as long. When his optics opened again, he felt more alert, stronger, and the faint light filtering through the curtains signaled the setting of Telen's sun.

He sat up, carefully moving his legs to the side of the berth... and then stood.

His metal creaked loudly as it protested him putting his weight on his stabilizers again, but he forced his pedes forward, and he limped his way to the door. He wasn't strong enough to flee just yet, but at least he could stand and walk.

He brushed the curtains back, and for the first time, he could see exactly where he was presently staying.

Beyond the room was a city, composed of dark, volcanic stone. Shimmering fragments in the stone wall in front of him suggested small bits of glass embedded into it, and it winded down to a central courtyard and then out to a city that was settled on the side of a mountain. He was in one of the upper districts, the rest laid out in various levels below them as the slope descended into thick, lush, green jungle. It lined the bottom of the mountain as far as the optics could see and beyond, being lost into a mist settled over the treetops. Protruding from the green and framing the setting sun were other mountain peaks, as dark and towering as high as the one they stood on.

Streets winded between buildings and squares, like lava flows long cooled and hardened, and telensi milled through them. Hundreds, if not thousands of denizens, far too many to have all inhabited a single research vessel that crashed. Yes, there must be a sparking well here somewhere, there were too many inhabitants for there not to be.

He limped out into the platform path beyond the door, peering up the slope. More buildings and platforms loomed further uphill than here, and the mountain rose higher and higher into the clouds, but he could make out the summit appearing flat. The city indeed was set on the side of a volcano, but was it dead now? When was its last eruption, and would it someday erupt again and destroy the settlement?

"Worry not."
Megatron looked down, seeing Scribe smiling back at him. Such youthful innocence in her optics. "...It cries... But not here."

"Where, then?"

Scribe pointed towards the slope. "Other side... Tunnels seek the sea... Kept open."

So the volcano relieved its pressure through flows on the opposite side from the city. It sounded like a stable solution for the moment. "I see..."

"You stand... Better?"

"Yes... Your brother is eager for me to leave."

"Stonerook... Protecting. He trust soon."

"Hmm... I am not convinced I should stay that long."

Scribe's expression saddened a little, but her smile never waned. "We can see... Telen special, Di City special... You welcome here."

Megatron sighed, he was welcome now... But how long would that last?

Much to his irritation, the strength in his legs did not last long, and by the time the sky was darkening beyond the mountain peaks, he was limping his way back to the berth and sitting down once more. Leaving this place would take a bit more time...

_______________________________________________________

Scribe's feet clicked softly on the stone floors of the Great Archive, lanterns lit by golden flames igniting the otherwise dark corridors. A stack of tablets were in her arms, slowly being returned to their shelves as she passed them.

No-light was the calmest and coolest part of the day, though in the depths of the Archives, the distant heat of flowing molten rock kept it relatively warm. She hummed a quiet tune to herself as she moved tablets over and placed others beside them, her audio receptors listening for any other activity. There shouldn't be many more still active at this hour, but she knew someone was approaching as their own feet clicked on the floor.

"You have something to say, big brother?"

Stonerook's optics glowed softly in the dim light, his brows furrowed. "You went and spoke with him after I did."

"I did... Does that bother you?"

"Scribe, you know how dangerous that is-"

"I know no such thing. He has been in our midst for three years and not harmed a single helm."

"He was unconscious!"

"Exactly... He needs time to heal, and antagonizing him won't aid him in that."

"You can see it, Scribe. He said so himself, didn't he? He is a fighter, he has seen war and possibly killed endless others. Is that someone you think should be walking our streets? He aimed his magic straight at me earlier!"

"Did you announce yourself when you entered?"

"He was in stasis."

"So you sneaked up on a slumbering ancient who has clearly been through many attacks and danger, and you were surprised when his first reaction to something being there and not knowing what it was was to defend himself?"
Scribe paused in her work, "He's hurt, physically and mentally. When he spoke of his wrong-doings, there was no pride in it... We help him, perhaps he will be willing to help us in return?"

"What could he possibly be able to help us with?"

Scribe's brows furrowed, and she pointed towards the door, where the mountain peaks were barely visible against the dark heavens and hovering mists. "That. Surely he has a good idea what to do about them."

"We've been doing fine so far."

"Hiding in our homes is not doing something about it!"
Scribe gasped and then gripped her left arm as it twitched and her hand dropped the tablets to the floor. Her vents took in a deep breath, trying to relax her agitated state and keep her arm's plating from shifting... from transforming. "Calm... Calm..."

"Right... We are a peaceful race, not one that fights."

"Telen let us stay here for a reason, 'Rook... Perhaps this is the reason... To help a dying star reignite its fire."

Stonerook frowned, and then began to walk away. "...I will see you at home. Try not to do anything foolish."

"How can I? You hardly let me out of your sight..."