Warnings: murder mystery dinner, false accusations, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Accusations fly, but Darsas won’t let himself be painted as the villain
"You've read what your role, backstory and your your character connects to others, yes?" Honey asks as she adjusts the tie that she had insisted that he wear as part of the outfit for the role he was to play.
Darsas chuffed a little as he leaned down just enough to let her fuss in the way that he knows that she enjoys fussing most. "Yes, love. I have read through it and remember anything. I am Antoine Riviera, jet-setting Adventurer for Hire. You are my charming assistant and secret romantic partner, Julia Nelique. We are going to a dinner party hosted by a wealthy if mysterious patron, along with others, including your estranged and adversarial childhood friend, Melinda Vasquez and her boy-toy Ezekyle ... hahaha hahaha... hahaha..."
"Why are you laughing, love?" Honey asks, tilting her head curiously up at him.
"Oh... I just... Have had occasion to deal with a very... Dangerous individual named Ezekyle. The idea of him being anyone's... Mmm... Kept person is. Wildly entertaining. Perhaps even true once a long, long time ago in his past. Not that there is anything wrong with sex-work. I just..." He falls into another fit of helpless laughter, his eyes gleaming in amusement. There was quite a bit more that had been in the file that he had read that he wasn't supposed to reveal except in certain circumstances. He was curious to see how this televised game of pretend and mystery would unfold. He had also followed the rules and not snooped through his beloved's things to read her full file, despite the temptation to do so.
"I see. Well, the car the event organizers sent to come get us will be here any minute. It's time to go. You've got your props?" Honey answered, grabbing the period-accurate purse and parasol she'd been instructed to bring with her.
He grabs the bag and the prop pistol, placing it on the holster that was strapped to his hip. "Right here, my love. I am ready to go."
She nods and leads him to where they needed to wait.
~
"And I am telling you that it has to be Antoine who killed Baron Von Valencio! He's the only one with a gun." A baseline who had gone by the name of Quinton shouted, pointing dramatically in Darsas' direction, finger trembling in faux-outrage and a touch of real fear.
Darsas rolled his eyes behind his helmet and answered "I have not spent time alone with the Baron before he passed tonight, and from what we saw of his body, he was not shot to death. He was stabbed. You, Miss Julia and the sergeant at arms are the ones with blades of the length and depth to cause those wounds."
"But he was shot!" Julia cried out, glaring at him, half hiding behind Ezekyle. Whose name was at least partially unchanged, though he was much younger, given the scars he had and those he did not. And the lack of the shifting aura that a champion of Chaos Undivided that had long clung to the Warmaster of Chaos.
"That happened post-mortem. I am very well acquainted with death, as a professional adventurer." Darsas answered, his voice calm and lilting a little with amusement. "Besides, the bullet that wounded him post mortem is two sizes larger than the ones that my pistol is capable of firing. Herr Van Gutte is the one with the rifle that has the correct sized ammunition. I am not, and did not have the means nor the motive to kill our dearly departed host."
"Explain." Ezekyle grunted, scowling. While Darsas was almost certain that both the future warmaster of Chaos - who was here as an unspoken representative of either loyalist or renegade astartes, the character he was playing was apparently dim and direct.
"May I?" The Night Lord - who was dressed elegantly as a minor noble who had been invited to the dinner party as a close friend and confidant of the dearly departed host.
"Please, Lord Zehal." Darsas answers with a magnanimous smile, gesturing for the other to continue.
"Mister Riviera here has worked for the dearly departed baron for most of his adult life, and has lost his patron to the cruel embrace of death. I imagine that he is among the most motivated to discern who among you all is the killer." The Night Lord answers with a smirk.
"You also came to this dinner party of the dead! You could have stabbed him." Gregory Van Gutte cut in, scowling.
"I. Am. Wheelchair bound, and do not have the strength to stab someone that many times. Especially not someone as fit and in the prime of his health that our host was." Zehal pointed out primly, gesturing to the wheelchair that he'd been seated in the entire time he'd been at this televised event.
"... Well, I suppose you have a point there." Van Gutte reluctantly conceded, scowling a little.
A terrified scream from the upstairs parlor rang out "OH GOD! WHAT THE FUCK? HELP, PLEASE HELP ME!"
Ah, onto the surprise second murder, then? Given the nature of these kinds of games - especially one so televised, a twist of a second - and perhaps third murder - was something that he was entirely unsurprised was going to happen. "We are coming to your rescue. Julia, with me!" he says in his best Dashing Hero voice, sweeping Honey off of her feet and into one of his arms as he rushed towards the sound of the screaming, most of the rest of the other guests following behind.
Warnings: murder mystery dinner, false accusations, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Accusations fly, but Darsas won’t let himself be painted as the villain
"You've read what your role, backstory and your your character connects to others, yes?" Honey asks as she adjusts the tie that she had insisted that he wear as part of the outfit for the role he was to play.
Darsas chuffed a little as he leaned down just enough to let her fuss in the way that he knows that she enjoys fussing most. "Yes, love. I have read through it and remember anything. I am Antoine Riviera, jet-setting Adventurer for Hire. You are my charming assistant and secret romantic partner, Julia Nelique. We are going to a dinner party hosted by a wealthy if mysterious patron, along with others, including your estranged and adversarial childhood friend, Melinda Vasquez and her boy-toy Ezekyle ... hahaha hahaha... hahaha..."
"Why are you laughing, love?" Honey asks, tilting her head curiously up at him.
"Oh... I just... Have had occasion to deal with a very... Dangerous individual named Ezekyle. The idea of him being anyone's... Mmm... Kept person is. Wildly entertaining. Perhaps even true once a long, long time ago in his past. Not that there is anything wrong with sex-work. I just..." He falls into another fit of helpless laughter, his eyes gleaming in amusement. There was quite a bit more that had been in the file that he had read that he wasn't supposed to reveal except in certain circumstances. He was curious to see how this televised game of pretend and mystery would unfold. He had also followed the rules and not snooped through his beloved's things to read her full file, despite the temptation to do so.
"I see. Well, the car the event organizers sent to come get us will be here any minute. It's time to go. You've got your props?" Honey answered, grabbing the period-accurate purse and parasol she'd been instructed to bring with her.
He grabs the bag and the prop pistol, placing it on the holster that was strapped to his hip. "Right here, my love. I am ready to go."
She nods and leads him to where they needed to wait.
~
"And I am telling you that it has to be Antoine who killed Baron Von Valencio! He's the only one with a gun." A baseline who had gone by the name of Quinton shouted, pointing dramatically in Darsas' direction, finger trembling in faux-outrage and a touch of real fear.
Darsas rolled his eyes behind his helmet and answered "I have not spent time alone with the Baron before he passed tonight, and from what we saw of his body, he was not shot to death. He was stabbed. You, Miss Julia and the sergeant at arms are the ones with blades of the length and depth to cause those wounds."
"But he was shot!" Julia cried out, glaring at him, half hiding behind Ezekyle. Whose name was at least partially unchanged, though he was much younger, given the scars he had and those he did not. And the lack of the shifting aura that a champion of Chaos Undivided that had long clung to the Warmaster of Chaos.
"That happened post-mortem. I am very well acquainted with death, as a professional adventurer." Darsas answered, his voice calm and lilting a little with amusement. "Besides, the bullet that wounded him post mortem is two sizes larger than the ones that my pistol is capable of firing. Herr Van Gutte is the one with the rifle that has the correct sized ammunition. I am not, and did not have the means nor the motive to kill our dearly departed host."
"Explain." Ezekyle grunted, scowling. While Darsas was almost certain that both the future warmaster of Chaos - who was here as an unspoken representative of either loyalist or renegade astartes, the character he was playing was apparently dim and direct.
"May I?" The Night Lord - who was dressed elegantly as a minor noble who had been invited to the dinner party as a close friend and confidant of the dearly departed host.
"Please, Lord Zehal." Darsas answers with a magnanimous smile, gesturing for the other to continue.
"Mister Riviera here has worked for the dearly departed baron for most of his adult life, and has lost his patron to the cruel embrace of death. I imagine that he is among the most motivated to discern who among you all is the killer." The Night Lord answers with a smirk.
"You also came to this dinner party of the dead! You could have stabbed him." Gregory Van Gutte cut in, scowling.
"I. Am. Wheelchair bound, and do not have the strength to stab someone that many times. Especially not someone as fit and in the prime of his health that our host was." Zehal pointed out primly, gesturing to the wheelchair that he'd been seated in the entire time he'd been at this televised event.
"... Well, I suppose you have a point there." Van Gutte reluctantly conceded, scowling a little.
A terrified scream from the upstairs parlor rang out "OH GOD! WHAT THE FUCK? HELP, PLEASE HELP ME!"
Ah, onto the surprise second murder, then? Given the nature of these kinds of games - especially one so televised, a twist of a second - and perhaps third murder - was something that he was entirely unsurprised was going to happen. "We are coming to your rescue. Julia, with me!" he says in his best Dashing Hero voice, sweeping Honey off of her feet and into one of his arms as he rushed towards the sound of the screaming, most of the rest of the other guests following behind.
Warnings: murder mystery dinner, false accusations, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Accusations fly, but Darsas won’t let himself be painted as the villain
"You've read what your role, backstory and your your character connects to others, yes?" Honey asks as she adjusts the tie that she had insisted that he wear as part of the outfit for the role he was to play.
Darsas chuffed a little as he leaned down just enough to let her fuss in the way that he knows that she enjoys fussing most. "Yes, love. I have read through it and remember anything. I am Antoine Riviera, jet-setting Adventurer for Hire. You are my charming assistant and secret romantic partner, Julia Nelique. We are going to a dinner party hosted by a wealthy if mysterious patron, along with others, including your estranged and adversarial childhood friend, Melinda Vasquez and her boy-toy Ezekyle ... hahaha hahaha... hahaha..."
"Why are you laughing, love?" Honey asks, tilting her head curiously up at him.
"Oh... I just... Have had occasion to deal with a very... Dangerous individual named Ezekyle. The idea of him being anyone's... Mmm... Kept person is. Wildly entertaining. Perhaps even true once a long, long time ago in his past. Not that there is anything wrong with sex-work. I just..." He falls into another fit of helpless laughter, his eyes gleaming in amusement. There was quite a bit more that had been in the file that he had read that he wasn't supposed to reveal except in certain circumstances. He was curious to see how this televised game of pretend and mystery would unfold. He had also followed the rules and not snooped through his beloved's things to read her full file, despite the temptation to do so.
"I see. Well, the car the event organizers sent to come get us will be here any minute. It's time to go. You've got your props?" Honey answered, grabbing the period-accurate purse and parasol she'd been instructed to bring with her.
He grabs the bag and the prop pistol, placing it on the holster that was strapped to his hip. "Right here, my love. I am ready to go."
She nods and leads him to where they needed to wait.
~
"And I am telling you that it has to be Antoine who killed Baron Von Valencio! He's the only one with a gun." A baseline who had gone by the name of Quinton shouted, pointing dramatically in Darsas' direction, finger trembling in faux-outrage and a touch of real fear.
Darsas rolled his eyes behind his helmet and answered "I have not spent time alone with the Baron before he passed tonight, and from what we saw of his body, he was not shot to death. He was stabbed. You, Miss Julia and the sergeant at arms are the ones with blades of the length and depth to cause those wounds."
"But he was shot!" Julia cried out, glaring at him, half hiding behind Ezekyle. Whose name was at least partially unchanged, though he was much younger, given the scars he had and those he did not. And the lack of the shifting aura that a champion of Chaos Undivided that had long clung to the Warmaster of Chaos.
"That happened post-mortem. I am very well acquainted with death, as a professional adventurer." Darsas answered, his voice calm and lilting a little with amusement. "Besides, the bullet that wounded him post mortem is two sizes larger than the ones that my pistol is capable of firing. Herr Van Gutte is the one with the rifle that has the correct sized ammunition. I am not, and did not have the means nor the motive to kill our dearly departed host."
"Explain." Ezekyle grunted, scowling. While Darsas was almost certain that both the future warmaster of Chaos - who was here as an unspoken representative of either loyalist or renegade astartes, the character he was playing was apparently dim and direct.
"May I?" The Night Lord - who was dressed elegantly as a minor noble who had been invited to the dinner party as a close friend and confidant of the dearly departed host.
"Please, Lord Zehal." Darsas answers with a magnanimous smile, gesturing for the other to continue.
"Mister Riviera here has worked for the dearly departed baron for most of his adult life, and has lost his patron to the cruel embrace of death. I imagine that he is among the most motivated to discern who among you all is the killer." The Night Lord answers with a smirk.
"You also came to this dinner party of the dead! You could have stabbed him." Gregory Van Gutte cut in, scowling.
"I. Am. Wheelchair bound, and do not have the strength to stab someone that many times. Especially not someone as fit and in the prime of his health that our host was." Zehal pointed out primly, gesturing to the wheelchair that he'd been seated in the entire time he'd been at this televised event.
"... Well, I suppose you have a point there." Van Gutte reluctantly conceded, scowling a little.
A terrified scream from the upstairs parlor rang out "OH GOD! WHAT THE FUCK? HELP, PLEASE HELP ME!"
Ah, onto the surprise second murder, then? Given the nature of these kinds of games - especially one so televised, a twist of a second - and perhaps third murder - was something that he was entirely unsurprised was going to happen. "We are coming to your rescue. Julia, with me!" he says in his best Dashing Hero voice, sweeping Honey off of her feet and into one of his arms as he rushed towards the sound of the screaming, most of the rest of the other guests following behind.
They are delightful. Also the Cuthonian gangster bonded to the widow of an organized crime boss(before they met) definitely owns and runs a bar.
That delights me. And honestly probably convinces any one that knew him that yep that's really him
(Reverse husbandry scenario Abby ends up back in 30k. Rants to the Mournival "I had a bar! Warpy grox shit tossed me to m3 then it tossed me back and took my bar!)
Warnings: murder mystery dinner, false accusations, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Accusations fly, but Darsas won’t let himself be painted as the villain
"You've read what your role, backstory and your your character connects to others, yes?" Honey asks as she adjusts the tie that she had insisted that he wear as part of the outfit for the role he was to play.
Darsas chuffed a little as he leaned down just enough to let her fuss in the way that he knows that she enjoys fussing most. "Yes, love. I have read through it and remember anything. I am Antoine Riviera, jet-setting Adventurer for Hire. You are my charming assistant and secret romantic partner, Julia Nelique. We are going to a dinner party hosted by a wealthy if mysterious patron, along with others, including your estranged and adversarial childhood friend, Melinda Vasquez and her boy-toy Ezekyle ... hahaha hahaha... hahaha..."
"Why are you laughing, love?" Honey asks, tilting her head curiously up at him.
"Oh... I just... Have had occasion to deal with a very... Dangerous individual named Ezekyle. The idea of him being anyone's... Mmm... Kept person is. Wildly entertaining. Perhaps even true once a long, long time ago in his past. Not that there is anything wrong with sex-work. I just..." He falls into another fit of helpless laughter, his eyes gleaming in amusement. There was quite a bit more that had been in the file that he had read that he wasn't supposed to reveal except in certain circumstances. He was curious to see how this televised game of pretend and mystery would unfold. He had also followed the rules and not snooped through his beloved's things to read her full file, despite the temptation to do so.
"I see. Well, the car the event organizers sent to come get us will be here any minute. It's time to go. You've got your props?" Honey answered, grabbing the period-accurate purse and parasol she'd been instructed to bring with her.
He grabs the bag and the prop pistol, placing it on the holster that was strapped to his hip. "Right here, my love. I am ready to go."
She nods and leads him to where they needed to wait.
~
"And I am telling you that it has to be Antoine who killed Baron Von Valencio! He's the only one with a gun." A baseline who had gone by the name of Quinton shouted, pointing dramatically in Darsas' direction, finger trembling in faux-outrage and a touch of real fear.
Darsas rolled his eyes behind his helmet and answered "I have not spent time alone with the Baron before he passed tonight, and from what we saw of his body, he was not shot to death. He was stabbed. You, Miss Julia and the sergeant at arms are the ones with blades of the length and depth to cause those wounds."
"But he was shot!" Julia cried out, glaring at him, half hiding behind Ezekyle. Whose name was at least partially unchanged, though he was much younger, given the scars he had and those he did not. And the lack of the shifting aura that a champion of Chaos Undivided that had long clung to the Warmaster of Chaos.
"That happened post-mortem. I am very well acquainted with death, as a professional adventurer." Darsas answered, his voice calm and lilting a little with amusement. "Besides, the bullet that wounded him post mortem is two sizes larger than the ones that my pistol is capable of firing. Herr Van Gutte is the one with the rifle that has the correct sized ammunition. I am not, and did not have the means nor the motive to kill our dearly departed host."
"Explain." Ezekyle grunted, scowling. While Darsas was almost certain that both the future warmaster of Chaos - who was here as an unspoken representative of either loyalist or renegade astartes, the character he was playing was apparently dim and direct.
"May I?" The Night Lord - who was dressed elegantly as a minor noble who had been invited to the dinner party as a close friend and confidant of the dearly departed host.
"Please, Lord Zehal." Darsas answers with a magnanimous smile, gesturing for the other to continue.
"Mister Riviera here has worked for the dearly departed baron for most of his adult life, and has lost his patron to the cruel embrace of death. I imagine that he is among the most motivated to discern who among you all is the killer." The Night Lord answers with a smirk.
"You also came to this dinner party of the dead! You could have stabbed him." Gregory Van Gutte cut in, scowling.
"I. Am. Wheelchair bound, and do not have the strength to stab someone that many times. Especially not someone as fit and in the prime of his health that our host was." Zehal pointed out primly, gesturing to the wheelchair that he'd been seated in the entire time he'd been at this televised event.
"... Well, I suppose you have a point there." Van Gutte reluctantly conceded, scowling a little.
A terrified scream from the upstairs parlor rang out "OH GOD! WHAT THE FUCK? HELP, PLEASE HELP ME!"
Ah, onto the surprise second murder, then? Given the nature of these kinds of games - especially one so televised, a twist of a second - and perhaps third murder - was something that he was entirely unsurprised was going to happen. "We are coming to your rescue. Julia, with me!" he says in his best Dashing Hero voice, sweeping Honey off of her feet and into one of his arms as he rushed towards the sound of the screaming, most of the rest of the other guests following behind.
Warnings: mentioned political tensions, mentioned legal action, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Darsas is lovingly cajoled into a Social Event he promised to go to.
"Darsas, love. You did agree to going with me to this event." Honey reminded Darsas. She was immaculately dressed in a dark plum suit with gold accessories that perfectly enhanced her beauty - as did the touches of nail polish and eye shadow.
Darsas was currently lurking at the bottom of his mud bath, where he had been laying for the better part of the day, seemingly in protest to going to the event in question. "That was before the recent incident involving that idiot warlord. Those of us who were directly involved in keeping his rampage from going further are still under more intense scrutiny by mortals when they recognize us. Command has strongly recommended that we lay low until the memories fade a bit more."
"But everyone knows that you and the others did what you did to prevent injuries or even deaths, and to reduce the amount of collateral damage done to the surrounding property and infrastructure." Honey pointed out, walking to the edge of the bath and gently placing a hand against one side of the tub.
"The fear has yet to die down, love. And more than a few mortals have tried pursuing legal and financial compensation from everyone involved and all sides of the alliance for their damaged things, or their claim of mental injury, or both. I do not know the particulars of it as I am not entrenched in the legal battles, but I do not wish to bring further scrutiny to my brothers... Nor you, my love." Darsas answers, having yet to emerge from the mud bath. "And I do not do well at those charity gala events when your fellow mortals are less... Nervous."
"Oh, but this is a themed event, do not worry! It is a murder mystery dinner, with the audience trying to put things together as the people searching for clues as to who did it and why are slowly found and revealed. It is going to be a televised event, with the audience sending money in for who they think did it, what the murder weapon was, what clues are real and not red herrings-"
"Why would fish not be a potential clues? Is it not true that some mortals are deathly allergic to fish?" Darsas asked, one mossy green eye floating up to the surface as he tilts his helmeted head in confusion at her, trilling a little, antennae buzzing.
"Oh! A red herring is a short hand term for a clue that is meant to mislead the audience and the Sleuth or sleuths to a false conclusion about the crime thar was committed, in fiction." Honey explains, smiling a little at the reminder that for all his intelligence and grasp on this language, it was endearing that he sometimes got tripped up by cultural idioms that were ubiquitous on earth. She found ir very endearing. "You're to be my plus one to this event, and to help me try to find out who the murderer is."
"... That sounds. Very public." Darsas rumbles. He also suspects that if he does go, many mortals will vote with their money that he is the killer. It would be good bait for thr charities, he thought with a mental grumble.
"It is, but only the other dinner attendees, their plus ones and the camera crew will be on-site. Please come with me, my love? If I thought Mouse would be up for it, I'd have asked her to come with me, given The Recent Incident, but she can't get around very well at this stage in her pregnancy."
Also Hura was wildly unlikely to let her out of his sight, given that Mouse was roughly eight months along amd could barely waddle from one room to the next under her own power. But Darsas wasn't going to say that out loud, lest Honey get all grumpy about free will and a person's ability to choose what they did with their lives.
Which was nice in theory, but in reality... Things were more complicated. "Very well. I shall go with you." He heaved himself up and out of the mud bath, as Honey stepped away. "I suppose you wish me to be as grime free as I can for this event?" He asked with a sigh.
"Yes please. I'll go get the pressure washer while you get all the way out of the mud bath." Honey prompted with a small smile "Also, you're not the only astartes attending this event, alright?"
Darsas blinked in surprise and nodded "Very well." That did, in fact, help him feel a bit better about the situation. He did inform the commander of Rotbone Base of the public commitment he was upholding the promise of attending to.
His vox chimed and the Commander- a scowling Iron Warrior - stated "Good hunting and represent us well, Darsas."
Huh.
Anyways.
"I will do the best that I am able." Daras answers with a slight nod. He shakes himself dry and follows the sound and scent of his beloved.
Warnings: mentioned political tensions, mentioned legal action, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Darsas is lovingly cajoled into a Social Event he promised to go to.
"Darsas, love. You did agree to going with me to this event." Honey reminded Darsas. She was immaculately dressed in a dark plum suit with gold accessories that perfectly enhanced her beauty - as did the touches of nail polish and eye shadow.
Darsas was currently lurking at the bottom of his mud bath, where he had been laying for the better part of the day, seemingly in protest to going to the event in question. "That was before the recent incident involving that idiot warlord. Those of us who were directly involved in keeping his rampage from going further are still under more intense scrutiny by mortals when they recognize us. Command has strongly recommended that we lay low until the memories fade a bit more."
"But everyone knows that you and the others did what you did to prevent injuries or even deaths, and to reduce the amount of collateral damage done to the surrounding property and infrastructure." Honey pointed out, walking to the edge of the bath and gently placing a hand against one side of the tub.
"The fear has yet to die down, love. And more than a few mortals have tried pursuing legal and financial compensation from everyone involved and all sides of the alliance for their damaged things, or their claim of mental injury, or both. I do not know the particulars of it as I am not entrenched in the legal battles, but I do not wish to bring further scrutiny to my brothers... Nor you, my love." Darsas answers, having yet to emerge from the mud bath. "And I do not do well at those charity gala events when your fellow mortals are less... Nervous."
"Oh, but this is a themed event, do not worry! It is a murder mystery dinner, with the audience trying to put things together as the people searching for clues as to who did it and why are slowly found and revealed. It is going to be a televised event, with the audience sending money in for who they think did it, what the murder weapon was, what clues are real and not red herrings-"
"Why would fish not be a potential clues? Is it not true that some mortals are deathly allergic to fish?" Darsas asked, one mossy green eye floating up to the surface as he tilts his helmeted head in confusion at her, trilling a little, antennae buzzing.
"Oh! A red herring is a short hand term for a clue that is meant to mislead the audience and the Sleuth or sleuths to a false conclusion about the crime thar was committed, in fiction." Honey explains, smiling a little at the reminder that for all his intelligence and grasp on this language, it was endearing that he sometimes got tripped up by cultural idioms that were ubiquitous on earth. She found ir very endearing. "You're to be my plus one to this event, and to help me try to find out who the murderer is."
"... That sounds. Very public." Darsas rumbles. He also suspects that if he does go, many mortals will vote with their money that he is the killer. It would be good bait for thr charities, he thought with a mental grumble.
"It is, but only the other dinner attendees, their plus ones and the camera crew will be on-site. Please come with me, my love? If I thought Mouse would be up for it, I'd have asked her to come with me, given The Recent Incident, but she can't get around very well at this stage in her pregnancy."
Also Hura was wildly unlikely to let her out of his sight, given that Mouse was roughly eight months along amd could barely waddle from one room to the next under her own power. But Darsas wasn't going to say that out loud, lest Honey get all grumpy about free will and a person's ability to choose what they did with their lives.
Which was nice in theory, but in reality... Things were more complicated. "Very well. I shall go with you." He heaved himself up and out of the mud bath, as Honey stepped away. "I suppose you wish me to be as grime free as I can for this event?" He asked with a sigh.
"Yes please. I'll go get the pressure washer while you get all the way out of the mud bath." Honey prompted with a small smile "Also, you're not the only astartes attending this event, alright?"
Darsas blinked in surprise and nodded "Very well." That did, in fact, help him feel a bit better about the situation. He did inform the commander of Rotbone Base of the public commitment he was upholding the promise of attending to.
His vox chimed and the Commander- a scowling Iron Warrior - stated "Good hunting and represent us well, Darsas."
Huh.
Anyways.
"I will do the best that I am able." Daras answers with a slight nod. He shakes himself dry and follows the sound and scent of his beloved.
Warnings: none? please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Binthe returns from a date and talks about it with Olistes
“Oh Olistes! There you are. I have returned from what what is colloquially called a date!" Binthe calls out, floating over to his dear friend and draping himself across Olistes' shoulders, peering curiously as the Iron Warrior pauses in his sketches.
It's a blueprint of some kind, although Binthe can't quite tell what it's supposed to be quite yet.
"Congratulations on enjoying the dried fruit?" Olistes tilts his head a little in confusion. "I thought you were going to spend some time with that mortal who caught your eye the other day at the library?"
"I did! A date is not just a kind of fruit, but an outing, typically with romantic connotations that all involved in the date directly are made aware of beforehand." The exuberant thousand son explains, happy to clear up the linguistic confusion. Both of them knew at least a half dozen languages and twice that many Gothic pidgins, so he understood Olistes' confusion.
"Bah, why must words have more than one meaning? This sort of subterfuge reeks of the 20th. Or the 8th. Or even the 19th." Olistes grumbled, sulking just a little at the fact that words were hard. It was one of the more annoying aspects of learning a new language - what was a double entendre, what was an accidental insult, and what could be construed as an innuendo. Geographic region and/or local culture had a large part to play in that as well. Which made learning a language widely spoken all the more irritating. "... But enough about my difficulties with this particular mortal tongue, how was your romantic outing?"
"Oh it was wonderful! Thank you for the suggestion of going to one of the small mammal cafes, and then over to a local bookstore. It was a big hit with the mortal, and you were right that they were a little nervous at first, but as we continued to do things, they warmed up! And I knew that they would love the game store as well. We played a tag-team game against an Ultramarine and his bonded mortal. He thought that he could trick us, but Sam knows the flow of the game a lot better. We managed to win, despite the best efforts of our opponents." Binthe gushed, his eyes alight.
Olistes resisted the temptation to rub his face with his hands "And how were you as a winner?"
"Gracious and thanked our opponents for a match well fought, of course. Despite wanting to rub it in that fussy blue bastard's face that all his scheming and maneuvering was for nothing. I made sure to show my best face." Binthe answers, still floating giddily as he hugged his favorite cousin tightly. "Although I'm surprised you gave me that information, you're a sore winner, and a worse loser when we play games together."
"Yes. Well. That is something that I have been trying to work on. The Alliance Mandated Chaplain visits have been... Helping. Anything else happen on this social outing of yours? I can detect a change in your scent, cousin." Olistes prompted, the scowl on his face softening to something fond.
"Well, when I walked Sam back to their car, before they got in to go home, they gave me a kiss on the lips! Their lips were so soft and it was wonderful to hold them for a couple of moments..." Binthe hummed, pressing two fingers to his lips, as a dreamy expression appeared on his face. "They also texted me when they got home that they did get home safely, and that they are hoping to go on another date with me two weeks from now. Something called a picnic and to bring wine?"
"Make sure that the wine is safe for mortals, and I'm glad that your date went well." The Iron Warrior rumbled, smiling ever so slightly. "A picnic sometimes involves a walk in nature and involves bringing and sharing food in a park or managed wild lands."
"Huh... That does sound like fun! Should I bring anything else?" Binthe asks, mostly to himself. "Hmm... I'll have to think about it. Thanks, 'liste!" With that, the thousand son floated off, feet still an inch or two above the ground, singing Tizcan celebration songs as he went.
hi so yeah im trying to find the hotel california and i know i have to take the highway to hell but i accidentally turned left onto the boulevard of broken dreams. i took the first hard right onto the rocky road to dublin cuz i thought it would loop back around but it didnt lol and i know im waaaaaay off course bc i just drove by the house of the rising sun haha. so how many miles until i get to the hotel
There was always a moment of enlightenment for Guilliman during teleportation, when he hung in a state that was neither life nor death.
In those moments, when his soul straddled two worlds, he knew himself for what he truly was: not a being of matter alone, but a creature of both realities. And in those moments, he was convinced – no, he knew – that he was spun from warp stuff and matter both.
- Dark Imperium
Don't question the magenta blueberry
I wanted to play with extreme color contrasts. it just ended up very pink as pink and purple are the colors I associate the most with the warp
I play Warframe a lot, This is what you are is a pretty infamous theme for reasons I won't get into but idk I had a vision and may or may not have achieved it I dunno
gamechangershow
pixelskylines
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
