At the Chapel

[Lynn Deanna Payne]

"Not everyone know!" Bambi protests, narrowing her optics, her crest rising. "Information not move so fast."

Maybe it's the people themselves Bambi is interested in. Co-authors on papers. Editors. Team mates in the deserts and the mountains. Their fascinating cultures. What they can teach her.

She ponders that and inquires, "So we all siblings?" It always made things really awkward for the Greek gods.

[Motormaster]

"Then just the ones who knew and did not act," Motormaster says firmly. He'll take no further argument on the subject - this is what needs doing, and this is what he will do.

He relaxes, no longer holding her close. In fact, he props himself up by one arm now and lets the other rest comfortably in the middle of Bambi's back. But if she decides to wander off, he wouldn't object.

At her question, he gives a bark of laughter. "Sure. Why not?"

[Lynn Deanna Payne]

Shoot. So that stupid Optimus Prime is also her brother?

Really, if they're all siblings, it makes the very concept of siblinghood and family meaningless. Few would fault Adam and Eve for having the same creator.

It would also mean that the other Dinobots really shouldn't mean any more or any less to her than anymore. Sure, they looked more like her than any of the others, but judging a book by its cover is a rather poor idea.

Still, even if they shouldn't be anything special to her, it's wrong to treat sapient beings in such a way, like mad dogs that need to be put down. They may not have been sure that the Dinobots are sapient, but they should have checked. At least run a Turing test!

Then again, they live in a society where machines are expendable; disposable - wholly without rights, despite a decent semblance of intelligence, in many cases. It's disgusting, really.

All of this brooding gets to her, and she curls up on Motormaster's lap, growling softly.

[Motormaster]

"Hey, now, little sister." Motormaster runs his hand down her back to as far down her tail as he can reach. "Brooding isn't the answer. Just lets everything fester, and then you're ripping arms off your own fellows. They don't like that much."

He sounds as if he speaks from personal experience.

"You study old things, don't you? Alien things? Tell me about this place."

---

Touching Bambi done with player permission.

[Lynn Deanna Payne]

Bambi perks up, slit-pupiled optics brightening. He may be a xenocidal soldier, but he's right. Doing nothing does nothing, oddly enough.

She replies, "Me Bambi no study alien things. Alien things on Earth too dangerous to study. Bad for health. But given chance..." She cranes her neck around the area curiously. "...me not adverse. This a temple, me think. Nature worship? Well-kept. Recent worship. Year or so since last used."

[Motormaster]

"Year or so since it was last used isn't exactly recent," Motormaster points out. He pulls his hand back from her, runs it along the edges of the altar. More sun-warmed metal, mandorla patterns detectable under his hands. Mandorlas connected to a base line that weaves and twines and sometimes extrudes things that are not mandorlas.

"Nature worship? Good as anything. That mean they plow strangers into fields to make a good harvest? Or burn two of their own before the planting?"

Motormaster has perhaps confused agricultural religious practices with nature worship.

[Lynn Deanna Payne]

"In grand scale of things, it recent," Bambi notes.

She scratches the back of her crest and explains, "Not exactly. Too to soon to say much. Really need Rosetta Stone."

The dinosaur frowns thinly, pondering.

[Motormaster]

"Let's go find some of 'em then."

Motormaster shifts his legs underneath Bambi, hinting that maybe she oughta get off. She's nowhere near annoying, so he's not going to just dump her on the ground. On the flip side, she's also bright enough to get her own self down to the ground and doesn't need him picking her up.

[Lynn Deanna Payne]

Bambi leaps down the ground, looking like such an action is natural for her. She'd be a tree-climber, if only the trees were to scale with her. People, this is what happens when you scale up dromaeosaurs! You deprive them of climbing trees! Please, think of the tree-deprived dromaeosaurs the next time you build an animatronic dinosaur!

She looks up at Motormaster and comments, tail wagging in anticipation, "Need library or similar. Maybe find texts in multiple languages there."

Unlikely that any of those languages will be from Earth, but it's worth a shot.

---

OOC: Time/theadskip to adventure?