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@dxrktidings
“It seems that no matter how low I set my expectations, it can always get worse... A lifetime spent in the mire, hiding from the witchseekers and the bigots in the most desolate places the Imperium of Man has to offer.”
Independent Mutuals Only Sideblog For Ozura Solvan (Darktide OC) and Various Secondary Warhammer 40K Muses
All Secondary Muses Are Request Only
Rules || Ozura || Secondary Darktide Muses || Other Muses
This Blog is 18+ Due To The Heavy Nature And Themes Of This Blog
((*offers you my scrunkly little psyker man* like this for an ask/starter for Ozura?))
((*offers you my scrunkly little psyker man* like this for an ask/starter for Ozura?))
((guys I think im gonna end up writing more and rewriting some of the backstory for Ozura and officially add some of the Mourningstar NPCs to the blog as muses because ffffffffffffff I really wanna write a bunch of them. I've been playing a lot of DT lately and the muse is strong rn))
@lookingforwcrd
Sergeant Gadriel would see a human staring at him. Small and unaugmented, easily mistaken for an adolescent youth. Yet the scars and weathering of his face spoke otherwise. His hair was pure white, like marble or possibly new fallen snow. His eyes... They stared at the sergeant; scleras as black as the void and irises shining with the light of distant stars unknown to the Ultramarine.
This young man... This psyker-
He was studying the astartes. No, studying wasn't quite the word. Examining him more like. Peering into his mind, his soul. But it wasn't like the probing of a librarian. It was almost childlike in his curiosity, wandering the spaces of Gadriel's mind as if walking a museum gallery.
Then Ozura's eyes widened slightly, the blue glow over taking them completely. He was no longer just seeing the surface thoughts and emotions, but something deeper; Gadriel's memories. He could catch glimpses of his campaign with Titus and Chairon, glimpses of his life with Lady Gadriel, and even bits a pieces of when he had undergone the process to become an astartes...
Shiprak took the next bite she offered. Then he took the food from her as she bade him to eat more. Hands larger than her head gently took the spoon and bowl. For as large and brutish as his stature seemed, he was one of the more gentle of the twenty.
He took a bite on his own. Then another. Though he was slow as not to make himself sick from eating too much too quickly. He spoke, words softer around the edges now but still cautious.
"What is it that you want? This is not just a simple act of kindness is it, Your Highness?"
❝In ancient times, there was a saying: no such thing as a free lunch. I have found it to be true. Everything has a price, even kindness...❞
The Princess smiled for him, folding up her arms and crossing her ankles, spine ramrod straight; a veneer of formality for the buried living and his freest aunt, as if that would make things any more fair between them.
❝When I leave this cell, your father will break me for this disobedience... But I still wanted to know. Why are you down here?❞
His movements were truly beautiful... Primarchs had that quality about them. Creatures of ultimate restraint, like swords being used for glass etchings.
"Did he never explain it to you?" The Eleventh asked cautiously. "Because we disobeyed him. Aurelius and I... The Rangdan Genocides. We went against that man's wishes. We were excommunicated from the Imperium. Aurelius was banished, far from the Sol System and even his home of Iskaare. And I was sent here. Deemed Subject XI."
There was a pause as he stared down at the half empty bowl, his grip tightened slightly. "You know what that means right? I became a test subject. For the last several millennia I've been tortured and experimented on, testing the limits of what a Primarch can really do and endure."
Even as he speaks of the horror he's been through he raises his chin in defiance. Maybe not towards her exactly, but it is defiance nonetheless.
((I haven't been on here in a hot minute. But the WH40k brain rot is getting to me again so I've been making some blueberry boy scouts))
This question was bound to show up for you, Lord Sanguinius, but have you taken the e time to meet your successor chapters? Some have a particularly bad time.
"Unfortunately I have not. I only recently have come back. But I have heard of the misfortune of some of my chapters and I weep for them. I see them in my visions and my heart aches for their struggles. I do wish to make time to see them."
commission from tww
@ozura I want you to experience the fate of Cassandra, to know the doom of your empire, but no one will believe you.
Tell My Muse What You Want To Do To Them On Anon. || Accepting!
"Ha! Doom of my empire?! Empire of what?! Insanity?! Peril?! You act as though anyone believes me anyway!"
Gadriel was not looking forward for it... But Titus encouraged him by giving him an idea, so here the Astarte was, after being rigorously examined by the guards.
“M-My lord, I—” Focus, Valorem, focus! Space Marines should never show any fear or nervousness in front of anyone, especially their genefather! “I assume you got visited by Lieutenant Titus previously, sir, so I— I also came with a gift to celebrate a commemorative day from ancient Terra.”
Pursing his lips, the sergeant placed a small wrapped box at the desk and took a few steps back, nervously looking down. Inside the box, there was something... simple: A few trinkets from Talassar and three small packets containing flower seeds of his native homeworld with a picture of how they will look like after blooming.
//for my nervous boy @lookingforwcrd :')
Oh. He hadn't been expecting the sergeant. But the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile.
"It's good to see you, Gadriel. Yes, he did stop by earlier." A pause as his expression softened. He looked from the box to the astartes and back to the box. Carefully he picked it up, having a little difficulty unwrapping it, but could manage.
"From your home, I presume? These look like they will be quite stunning once they bloom. I'll have to plant them in the residence's gardens. Thank you, Valorem."
Tell My Muse What You Want To Do To Them On Anon.
I don’t care if it’s cute, sexual, or violent. Just do it!
Uh oh- Did he do something wrong?
A box was lifted over Titus's head. With a determined gaze, and after rigorous checking from the Victrix Guard over what this box was, the Primaris was able to walk in and place the box on his genefather's desk.
" My lo-- no, ah, father, " Titus began, looking up at him, " I had heard that in the ancient days of Holy Terra there was a day dedicated to fathers. I thought it necessary to... offer a gift. " Despite the stoicism on Titus's face, his cheeks visibly flushed like an embarrassed, shy child as he pointed to the box-- grand in design with the sigil of the Ultramarines on the front, adorned in golds and blues and hints of greens, making up feathers and wreaths.
Within it was not a weapon, not something for drinking, but... a gardening kit, carefully set up to be Guilliman's size. It was meant for Macraggean grapes, it looked like, and other little crops. " If you are not satisfied, I can get you something else. "
// @adeptvsastartes
Roboute was curious at first, watching as Titus placed the gift on his desk. His face was soft from wonder at the notion. It was such a kind gesture from the Lieutenant. There were those who took his role as their genefather more than just the Primarch of their legion. There were those who looked to him as any son would their father; Titus being among them.
He's careful as he opens the box as to not damage the delicate decoration of it. Though that wasn't entirely possible with the armor that constantly clung to his body to keep him alive.
A smile came to his face when he saw the tools. It reminded him of gardening with Tarasha as a boy. His face softened more at the memory.
"Thank you, Demetrian. I will make good use of these," Guilliman said, smiling at him.
Father cared for him? How absurd. He wouldn't be trapped in this hell if his so-called father cared.
Don't worry about him. He's simply observing.
