@dustxechoes continued from here.
--
He couldn't remember the last time He felt air fill His lungs, nor the feeling of the ground under His feet... or, even talked to someone.
But oh, by the stars so much had changed.
Revelation's dream had rotted, and now like maggots Mankind tried so hard to writhe around and survive. He didn't know what had changed anymore, His Imperium was so unrecognizable. After millennia of being shackled into the very depths of the Immaterium, the Emperor's lost shard had finally made contact with realspace, where He had found Imperatrice.
... Though, with this lack of context, it left Him confused by the concept of the Sisters of Battle, or their aspirants and novitiates. He could swear He'd heard prayers, though He couldn't recall anymore.
He... certainly did not look like a god, which at least helped with normal conversation. Covered in dirt and muck, hair matted, with not even a glow to His eyes and no halo behind His head, He wore the rags of a laborer, or a prisoner. The burn-like markings along his wrists, ankles and neck certainly made the prisoner aspect more accurate.
Looking over her with curiosity, the Emperor hunched. He was still... large. If anything, He looked like a giant mutants meant to handle heavylifting on some backwater world along the fringes of the Imperium.
" What you believe in? " His voice was deep. Like He could split mountains with a whispered command alone, yet there was an air of intelligence and wisdom to Him, seeking knowledge.
" Please forgive me for my inquiring... but I had not met someone of your Order-- may I ask about these beliefs? "
