"Hm. I was hoping that the news of being chosen by Primus would give people a sense of urgency," Corona says, seeming untroubled by the news Epsilon had given earlier. "No matter; I've waited seven thousand years for this; a few moments more will be no trouble."
The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, with a few rays of orange light spilling out over the sea and through the walls of varicolored light thrown up by the glowing fissures marbling the planet's surface. The crowd waits, the scene scored by the murmurings of many. Shatterpoint, unlike Corona, seemed in a hurry- no doubt the Decepticon wanted to get whatever ceremony this was over with so that he could begin planning defenses.
"...Point is: she's probably busy in some manner. Or angsting," Thrift tries to explain. "Maybe both."
"Nooo, you don't," the autobot says with a smirk. He and the Decepticon guard return to their game.