#adeptvsimperialis

[vicarlunares]

cont. — @adeptvsimperialis

Thus far, this has prove to be a thankless effort. Not a modicum of willingness from these vacuous simpletons. ' Demi gods ' they call them. ' Emperor's Angels ' for the more faithful. Tch. Proven to be more muscle-steel than brain. They were a highly guarded brotherhood, abusing lines of protocol as their shields against robust questioning. Emil had not considered himself unreasonable in his ask. He had a job, just like them, and a reputation to uphold within their station. For all that he was, cruel as he appeared to be, he had been cordial up until this point.

But— he was no fool. The Inquisitor is beyond aware of why Titus' close companions gate around him like bullish pups. There is understanding there, at least a recognition on Emil's end, but he does not care about what had transpired 100 years ago with a different man on distant lands with non-overlapping terms. Thrax was beneath him and in every way, he has excelled far beyond the traitor's dead inconsequential contribution to the Imperium.

Not that it had mattered now. The Captain ( or what was it that they called him now? Warden? How pretentious ) sequestered away into his office, milling behind amounting excuses as to why he couldn't entertain Emil for a brief hour. As if he didn't know. Did Demetrian think him so stupid?

The padlock clunks open, the door slides open, revealing a man much older than Emil remembers him being. He supposes a century of combat does that to a man, quietly noting the additional service studs nailed above his brow.

" You are forgiven, " he said with a tone that hasn't forgave him at all.

Without wasting either of their time, his leather-bound portfolio is passed up into the light between them with a flick to showcase his intentions here. Emil found he had to treat this Astarte like a battered animal; mild tone, open body language, hands in plain sight, and eyes targeted away from his. A skittish prey. Trust, if he had any other choice, he would have avoided this petulant soldier in favor of another more cooperative recipient.

" May I come inside? Or would you like for us to speak openly in the hall for all your peers to hear? I do not mind either, but I did happen to notice a Chaplain hunting through these quarters quite diligently. "

[musesmyway]

@adeptvsimperialis sent:

"Here. This will bring you luck." // ayhan/pre-imperium emps with possibly a pre-hell invasion doom 1 doomie? :)c only if you'd like!!!

I MOVE THE STARS FOR NO ONE

Flynn stares at the item that's held out to him for a moment, not too sure what he'd need luck for, but still, the marine huffs gently. "For luck." He hasn't been here on Phobos long, put here because he'd put his commanding officer in the ICU, not that the prick didn't deserve it. He can tell the other members of the security team at least know his history, but that didn't matter. He's just here to serve out his punishment, even if he'd rather be Earth side with his family.

At least, that's how it'd started, it's gotten a little easier being here now he's made a couple friends. Ayhan being one of them. It's why he's here at the moment anyway, rather than the security station he'd been assigned to.

"Worryin' about me, huh?" He asks, taking the item carefully then. He's not too sure what he'd need more luck for, but the gesture is appreciated anyway.

[0nlywar]

her footsteps come to a gradual stop. the air around feels... still- the groans and mindless chatter of infected and traitors alike sounding... almost far away. emily elizabeth feels like she can breathe again, that she can finally catch her breath. a dark gaze scans over the alleyway, until her eyes come to rest on a person that she had not quite noticed. she stares as her mind runs through everything, until her neural pathways click into place. there is a lone child, in standing the throne forsaken alleyways of tertium hive.

children do not belong in a war zone filled; this is what detective arbiter emily elizabeth's personal interpretation of the lex says. (the lex is the lex, she says aloud- but every action done under the lex imperialis is merely interpretation, because no one can claim to know the true ideals of the sigilite.)

"hello." she tries for friendly. it comes out a little less rude and dry than her normal way of speaking. close enough. "this place isn't safe for you-" her voice cracks hard. the smell of damp earth, the tang of sulfur, mixed with incense and pickled grox stew fills her nose. flashes of faces she had worked hard to repress during her years in the schola. her heart flutters- the way it did when she still naively hoped things could change for the better. and there it was. hope. it overwhelmed her, scared her. flooded every part of her body, mingling in with warm, glowing memories of a now empty mournax mining town. she struggles to find her composure- but chokes out the rest of her sentence like it physically burned her to say it. "to be here alone."

@adeptvsimperialis liked!

[intothewildsea]

@adeptvsimperialis (emperor/ayhan)

Making clothes for Ayhan had been on her list of priorities, once she was sure his wounds were tended to and he was fed. It took her a couple of days, because he was so tall which meant there was a lot of fabric to sew, but she didn't mind.

She had gotten him to put them on and was making sure that they fit well. It was a simple tunic and trousers, but they should do until they could get him something more suited to his tastes.

"How do they feel? Are they too tight anywhere?" She was glad to see the pants were the proper length. She'd worried she had made them too short.

[piperafterdark]

@adeptvsimperialis even god needs a bestie

Thick dark hair moved through her fingers like tendrils of ink. He was right, she had gotten better with her gauntlets, long dexterous fingers not quite as clever as usual but elegant in motion all the same. One strand over the other, she plaited his hair in sections, aiming to loop the braids together in a pretty display by the end.

It was a little thing, in the grand scheme of things. But if this was how she could show care, then show it she would.

"Mm." She hummed for a moment as she churned his question in her mind, eyes half lidded in concentration. "It's still Night City, for better or worse. Bombastic. Too big. Too loud. Filled with people who are just so hungry to live, to matter."

A pause.

"... But I guess that's really just the human condition isn't it? That desire to keep going, keep fighting. Doesn't seem like that's really changed."

[vicarlunares]

@adeptvsimperialis tends to Seraphine's non-life-threatening wound.

A wound superficial, bright red and gentle where it inlays along her forearm, it stung with the cut of wind sneaking in through dilapidated seals of the window. Seraphine looks upon it, unable to visualize the details beyond the topical unevenness to an otherwise smooth stretch of skin from wrist to elbow. It welled over until rivulets encircle the width of her arm and drip away over thigh in measured counts.

" This isn't necessary, " she began to pull away. Whatever meager biomancy she could conjure failing her now; her, malnourished and spent from recent endeavors. " It can heal on its own. "

[vicarlunares]

It almost seemed like the hand of a woman brushed against the Emperor's hand-- and yet, what met Him was a face familiar. His own. Indeed, a shard of Himself-- or, perhaps, someone else that made up His other half. " I'm sorry for going a little quiet, " Ayhan murmured, face gently pressing into His shard's shoulder, His arms wrapped around the Master of Mankind's neck in an almost feminine gesture, " I grew worn from looking after the Primarchs. May I spend time with you? " ↪ @adeptvsimperialis

Ghostly reminder enters His perceptions, touching along scarred weathered skin. His knuckles clutch in reflex, grasping at empty air, catching the suggestion of another within His hold— only for His palm to remain vacant.

" You needn't apologize, " Sargon of Akkad dismisses the notion that it had bothered Him at all ( of which it absolutely did but He made no spectacle of it ).

Worn in from the gravitas of shouldering the universe, Ayhan's touch was affirming as it was cooling over His aching neck. If only He could crane His head back an inch more, He could escape eternal agony. At least, He had dreamt so. All such pleasantries elude Him anymore and even now He questions the validity of His fragment's presence.

" Worn? You had wanted them and now you tire of them, " monotonous in observation but not without its snark," I had warned you of this. "

[vicarlunares]

" Can't shift the taste of those combat rations, even through a mouthful of blood, " said @adeptvsimperialis

[ That is why I do not eat them. ] Alaric signs, claw slashed over his throat.

The alternative wasn't any better. Sour, sickly sweet long pig of wasted fallen scrounged up in the corners of the ships. It was an explicit policy to pay reverence to those that served within the night-fallen battle barges, but the old habits of the nightborn assassins never die. It was considerably a waste to jettison remains out into space, allowing tungsten coffins to sink into the dark matter of the cosmos, when their bones and their flesh could be put to far better use.

Therefore, the implicit culture thrived and was never denied — only on audits did it seem to fade into rumor.

Collecting his staff off the ground where it slammed out of the Night Lord's fist, he stood at full height again, overlooking the molten, burning remains of their non-compliant foe. Fresh civilization whittled to ash && dust before them. Alaric had felt no pity when he slipped through the alley ways of the particularly corrupt partisians; having harbored little sympathy for their fettered pleas and fat bellies when he gutted them throat to navel.

[ If you are so hungry, I will vanish back into those manors and pillage the remains of their dining halls. ]