Bookwyrm Writes in Darknes

There were a couple of people on reception, two baselines and an Ultramarine, if the blue and gold color scheme of his clothing and handsome patrician features were anything to go by. Tallis was leaning as heavily as he dared to on his bonded as he walked up to the counter. There were a dozen or so baselines and about that many astartes in the waiting room. He was doing all he could to try and keep himself in a neutral mental state, as that seemed to keep the worst of the twisting agony from the flesh change at bay, at least for now. 

The Ultramarine looked the two of them over and asked "Name, affiliation and reason for coming in?" in one of the common languages.

Tallis eyes flickered around the room, looking down at you, his beloved bonded, who was looking at you with a mix of determination and worry. In High Gothic he answers, pitching his voice low, in case some of the mortals had been taught the language, or had picked it up "Battle Brother Tallis of the Fifth Fellowship of the Thousand Sons' legion. I... I believe I may be dealing with a flare up of the Flesh Change. I am loyal to the imperium and the Emperor of Mankind."

The Ulramarine - who had a nametag that read Olleandros - froze for two full seconds, before his fingers burst into a flurry of motion and he answered also in High Gothic "Understood. Were you part of the fifteenth legion who were put into stasis because of the Flesh Change?"

"Yes. I went into stasis and woke up here three weeks ago. I made contact with some of my brothers, most of whom are... Varying degrees of deeply fucked up and confusing. This morning at 2:15am was the first time since arriving here that I know of where I began to experience symptoms of the flesh change once more. I have only been using my psychic abilities in a limited manner alongside other brothers as I am retraining my abilities with the differences in how access of the warp is in this time and place. Heightened emotions seem to make the symptoms worse." Tallis answered, doing his best to keep his emotions from wildly spinning out of control. He succeeded for the most part, though a pained groan left him as panic broke through his emotional control.

"Love, why do you keep speaking in one of the languages I don't know? It's... You're worried it's really bad and trying to keep me from knowing, aren't you. I can handle learning what's going on, I promise!" You ask, gently guiding him down onto the floor, a visibly worried expression on your face.

"My tongue is bound on certain topics, my lovely bonded." Tallis explains, cupping your face with trembling fingers, trying to give you a smile that you know is filled with pain, rather than joy. You can see tears of pain gathering at the corners of his eyes.

The Ultramarine continued to type furiously and he said in the local tongue "You will be moved to exam room S3, to be evaluated." He paused for a moment and witched back to Gothic, voice a little quieter "How distractable is your bonded?"

"Thank you, the swift examination time is much appreciated." Tallis answered in the commonly spoken language, trying to keep his voice upbeat and confident for his increasingly confused and concerned bonded, before switching back to high gothic "They're very tenacious when they want to be. If there is someone who could give them a less... Dangerous version of the truth, that's probably the only thing that will help them settle down." Tallis blinks in mild surprise as four baselines in medical uniforms appear and lift him into an appropriately sized wheelchair.

"Noted, I'll have them re-routed to one of our other apothecaries on staff. We do have a fully trained psy-apothecary on staff, as well as one in training, are you willing to be seen by both?" The Ultramarine asked in High Gothic. 

Tallis nods and answers in the same language "Yes I am." He's... He doesn't know if he's going to survive this check up, and his hearts ache for his bonded. Hopefully they will wipe your memory, so that you will not need to grieve his passing. He never wanted to be a source of agony for you. Perhaps the whisper of a rumor he'd heard about someone able to do dissolve bonds was true. Was there a backlash for the death of a marine on their bonded human? He hoped that wasn't so... His hearts again ached and he had to press a hand to his mouth as the writhing agony of the flesh changed eagerly fed on his heartbreak and fear. 

You were not happy to be led away from him by an unfairly tall Imperial Fist dressed in black and white scrubs, from the tone of your voice. He was firm in steering you away from his side, citing that the psy-apothecary needed to look Tallis over alone for the best results, and that there was a quieter waiting room for you to wait for Tallis and the results for.

That was the thing about Imperial Fists. They were seen as so stalwart and up front, that when they lied, it was nearly impossible for anyone to tell. Tallis was pretty sure that he was lying about some part of this. Tallis closed his eyes for a few moments, fighting the fear and despair of what was very likely to be his imminent death - or re-interment into a stasis chamber so as to not let the flesh change feed upon those emotions as well. 

When he opened them again, a small sound of surprise left him as he saw a very inscrutable older brother whom he did not recognize and a... Space... Wolf? But he also felt like a brother? The Space Wolf looked scout aged and was scowling openly. "Greetings brothers.' Tallis murmured, trying to sound friendly, despite the agony rippling through his body. "I am Tallis of the  fifth fellowship. I wish we could meet under better circumstances."

The Space Wolf clicked his tongue and scowled harder, folding his arms over his chest. 

The older thousand son stared at him, tilting his head a little, before saying "I am Apothecary Amonhep, first fellowship of the thousand sons. Can you describe to me in detail what your symptoms are currently, what they were in the far future, and how long  you were experiencing both?"

Tallis clears his throat before dutifully answering "In the far future I had been suffering from skin changes and fluctuations in my psionic output, along with awful nightmares that, when I awoke from, I could not remember as the taste of feathers and the cruel laughter of something... Vast beyond my understanding toyed with my body and soul. I would find talon-like ridges on my arms, legs or torso sometimes. My symptoms now are horrible abdominal cramping that feels like something is shifting and twisting inside of my abdomen. It's visible under my skin, and it started happening four hours, thirty minutes and twenty six seconds ago. The pain intensifies when I feel any strong emotion, so I have been trying to keep myself calm. It's. not going particularly well." 

The Space Wolf clicked his tongue again and scowled harder, a very clearly judgmental expression on his face "Were you doing any great workings of witchery? I haven't heard of any cases of the flesh change happening to loyal sons of the fifteenth here on Ancient Terra." 

Amonhep stares at the Space Wolf for several moments, raising one of his eyebrows lightly at the other before rebuking lightly  "I've spoken to you about the manner in which you speak to our patients, Thressl. Our job is equal parts care and bedside manner. If our patients do not trust us, then we are unable to treat them properly."

Tallis... Is beginning to wish that he hadn't agreed to be treated by the both of them. Had he known that one of the psy-apothecaries who were going to be sent in to treat him was going to be a Space Wolf, he would have told his bonded to take him to Rotbone base, to be put at the mercy of the mutated monsters who called themselves marines. "To answer your question, brother, no. I have not been doing any great works of sorcery. It was immediately apparent to me that the veil between the materium and the warp is much thicker, and I have been going through the proper channels to regain mastery of my abilities in this time and place, making sure not to push myself, as I was concerned about the resurgence of my flesh change."

He also wants to deny the implied accusation that he is disloyal to the Imperium, but he suspects that his words will fall on deaf ears, or worse. He does not have to prove himself to this half-breed mutt, anyways. He will not sink to the petty low that this Space Wolf has sunk to for no reason whatsoever. "I would rather not be treated by an apothecary who views me in such a dim and hostile light, Apothecary Amonhep, unless it is absolutely necessary."

Thressl takes in a deep breath and lets out a sigh, a hint of a sullen growl in his voice "I... Apologize for my harsh words." HIs tone is more subdued.

Tallis sighs internally. Being the better person sucks. "Very well then, if you believe you can keep your professional demeanor, I would be willing to allow you to continue to help in my treatment." Not that the space wolf had done anything other than being a judgmental bitch for no throne-damned reason. 

Amonhep nodded and answered "Duly noted. Now, I am going to begin the psychic scan. You may feel tingling or itching, but it should not be very painful. Please tell me if and where if it does. Hold still for a moment while I perform the ritual. " One of his hands began to glow as the older thousand son began to chant.

There were a couple of people on reception, two baselines and an Ultramarine, if the blue and gold color scheme of his clothing and handsome patrician features were anything to go by. Tallis was leaning as heavily as he dared to on his bonded as he walked up to the counter. There were a dozen or so baselines and about that many astartes in the waiting room. He was doing all he could to try and keep himself in a neutral mental state, as that seemed to keep the worst of the twisting agony from the flesh change at bay, at least for now. 

The Ultramarine looked the two of them over and asked "Name, affiliation and reason for coming in?" in one of the common languages.

Tallis eyes flickered around the room, looking down at you, his beloved bonded, who was looking at you with a mix of determination and worry. In High Gothic he answers, pitching his voice low, in case some of the mortals had been taught the language, or had picked it up "Battle Brother Tallis of the Fifth Fellowship of the Thousand Sons' legion. I... I believe I may be dealing with a flare up of the Flesh Change. I am loyal to the imperium and the Emperor of Mankind."

The Ulramarine - who had a nametag that read Olleandros - froze for two full seconds, before his fingers burst into a flurry of motion and he answered also in High Gothic "Understood. Were you part of the fifteenth legion who were put into stasis because of the Flesh Change?"

"Yes. I went into stasis and woke up here three weeks ago. I made contact with some of my brothers, most of whom are... Varying degrees of deeply fucked up and confusing. This morning at 2:15am was the first time since arriving here that I know of where I began to experience symptoms of the flesh change once more. I have only been using my psychic abilities in a limited manner alongside other brothers as I am retraining my abilities with the differences in how access of the warp is in this time and place. Heightened emotions seem to make the symptoms worse." Tallis answered, doing his best to keep his emotions from wildly spinning out of control. He succeeded for the most part, though a pained groan left him as panic broke through his emotional control.

"Love, why do you keep speaking in one of the languages I don't know? It's... You're worried it's really bad and trying to keep me from knowing, aren't you. I can handle learning what's going on, I promise!" You ask, gently guiding him down onto the floor, a visibly worried expression on your face.

"My tongue is bound on certain topics, my lovely bonded." Tallis explains, cupping your face with trembling fingers, trying to give you a smile that you know is filled with pain, rather than joy. You can see tears of pain gathering at the corners of his eyes.

The Ultramarine continued to type furiously and he said in the local tongue "You will be moved to exam room S3, to be evaluated." He paused for a moment and witched back to Gothic, voice a little quieter "How distractable is your bonded?"

"Thank you, the swift examination time is much appreciated." Tallis answered in the commonly spoken language, trying to keep his voice upbeat and confident for his increasingly confused and concerned bonded, before switching back to high gothic "They're very tenacious when they want to be. If there is someone who could give them a less... Dangerous version of the truth, that's probably the only thing that will help them settle down." Tallis blinks in mild surprise as four baselines in medical uniforms appear and lift him into an appropriately sized wheelchair.

"Noted, I'll have them re-routed to one of our other apothecaries on staff. We do have a fully trained psy-apothecary on staff, as well as one in training, are you willing to be seen by both?" The Ultramarine asked in High Gothic. 

Tallis nods and answers in the same language "Yes I am." He's... He doesn't know if he's going to survive this check up, and his hearts ache for his bonded. Hopefully they will wipe your memory, so that you will not need to grieve his passing. He never wanted to be a source of agony for you. Perhaps the whisper of a rumor he'd heard about someone able to do dissolve bonds was true. Was there a backlash for the death of a marine on their bonded human? He hoped that wasn't so... His hearts again ached and he had to press a hand to his mouth as the writhing agony of the flesh changed eagerly fed on his heartbreak and fear. 

You were not happy to be led away from him by an unfairly tall Imperial Fist dressed in black and white scrubs, from the tone of your voice. He was firm in steering you away from his side, citing that the psy-apothecary needed to look Tallis over alone for the best results, and that there was a quieter waiting room for you to wait for Tallis and the results for.

That was the thing about Imperial Fists. They were seen as so stalwart and up front, that when they lied, it was nearly impossible for anyone to tell. Tallis was pretty sure that he was lying about some part of this. Tallis closed his eyes for a few moments, fighting the fear and despair of what was very likely to be his imminent death - or re-interment into a stasis chamber so as to not let the flesh change feed upon those emotions as well. 

When he opened them again, a small sound of surprise left him as he saw a very inscrutable older brother whom he did not recognize and a... Space... Wolf? But he also felt like a brother? The Space Wolf looked scout aged and was scowling openly. "Greetings brothers.' Tallis murmured, trying to sound friendly, despite the agony rippling through his body. "I am Tallis of the  fifth fellowship. I wish we could meet under better circumstances."

The Space Wolf clicked his tongue and scowled harder, folding his arms over his chest. 

The older thousand son stared at him, tilting his head a little, before saying "I am Apothecary Amonhep, first fellowship of the thousand sons. Can you describe to me in detail what your symptoms are currently, what they were in the far future, and how long  you were experiencing both?"

Tallis clears his throat before dutifully answering "In the far future I had been suffering from skin changes and fluctuations in my psionic output, along with awful nightmares that, when I awoke from, I could not remember as the taste of feathers and the cruel laughter of something... Vast beyond my understanding toyed with my body and soul. I would find talon-like ridges on my arms, legs or torso sometimes. My symptoms now are horrible abdominal cramping that feels like something is shifting and twisting inside of my abdomen. It's visible under my skin, and it started happening four hours, thirty minutes and twenty six seconds ago. The pain intensifies when I feel any strong emotion, so I have been trying to keep myself calm. It's. not going particularly well." 

The Space Wolf clicked his tongue again and scowled harder, a very clearly judgmental expression on his face "Were you doing any great workings of witchery? I haven't heard of any cases of the flesh change happening to loyal sons of the fifteenth here on Ancient Terra." 

Amonhep stares at the Space Wolf for several moments, raising one of his eyebrows lightly at the other before rebuking lightly  "I've spoken to you about the manner in which you speak to our patients, Thressl. Our job is equal parts care and bedside manner. If our patients do not trust us, then we are unable to treat them properly."

Tallis... Is beginning to wish that he hadn't agreed to be treated by the both of them. Had he known that one of the psy-apothecaries who were going to be sent in to treat him was going to be a Space Wolf, he would have told his bonded to take him to Rotbone base, to be put at the mercy of the mutated monsters who called themselves marines. "To answer your question, brother, no. I have not been doing any great works of sorcery. It was immediately apparent to me that the veil between the materium and the warp is much thicker, and I have been going through the proper channels to regain mastery of my abilities in this time and place, making sure not to push myself, as I was concerned about the resurgence of my flesh change."

He also wants to deny the implied accusation that he is disloyal to the Imperium, but he suspects that his words will fall on deaf ears, or worse. He does not have to prove himself to this half-breed mutt, anyways. He will not sink to the petty low that this Space Wolf has sunk to for no reason whatsoever. "I would rather not be treated by an apothecary who views me in such a dim and hostile light, Apothecary Amonhep, unless it is absolutely necessary."

Thressl takes in a deep breath and lets out a sigh, a hint of a sullen growl in his voice "I... Apologize for my harsh words." HIs tone is more subdued.

Tallis sighs internally. Being the better person sucks. "Very well then, if you believe you can keep your professional demeanor, I would be willing to allow you to continue to help in my treatment." Not that the space wolf had done anything other than being a judgmental bitch for no throne-damned reason. 

Amonhep nodded and answered "Duly noted. Now, I am going to begin the psychic scan. You may feel tingling or itching, but it should not be very painful. Please tell me if and where if it does. Hold still for a moment while I perform the ritual. " One of his hands began to glow as the older thousand son began to chant.

Hebe hummed softly to himself as he paused for a moment, pinching off a small piece of the dough that he had been kneading, lifting it up to the light and carefully pulling it apart, to see if he had achieved the window-pane effect that meant that the dough had been properly kneaded yet. It tears in his fingers before he can get what the instructions say is correct. A soft sigh leaves the young alpha legionnaire, and he gently reincorporates the small dough blob into  the larger dough blob.

He pushes the dough flat with the base of his palms, before pulling it back with his fingers, before pausing for a moment, turning it ninety-degrees, and repeating the motion. He does this over and over again as he sings a shanty that he only half remembers. He’s not quite sure where he picked it up - and the fact that he doesn’t remember is a sign that whatever mission he went on had been… Edited post-completion by one of the old bastards he used to be forced to serve.

“Come all ye void sailors who obey the throne!”

Keme, who was editing a video with headphones on sung back

“Wey hay, pray to the crown!”

Hebe continued to the next line as he kept kneading the dough, timing his kneading to the tempo of the song “And please pay attention and listen to me~”

He was focused on this task. He’d been trying out different hobbies, now that he and Keme were out from under The Bastards’ thumb. While his and Keme’s fosters said that he could try any hobby he liked, even ones that weren’t… Useful to other people, only enriching himself, the young hydra couldn’t quite bring himself to do that just yet. 

Besides, the chemistry involved in baking was absolutely fascinating, and he really liked being able to know for certain what went into the food that he made. The fact that the two who were fostering him and his twin also seemed to appreciate the fresh bread and other baked goods that he made - when they turned out well, and Hebe was determined to make more good food than something that needed to be fed to the animals, or left on the compost pile to either rot or be eaten by the very spooky Death Guard who liked to lurk there. 

Keme called back “Gimme some time to pray to the throne!” As the next beat of the song. He continued to click and type away as he continued to work on the latest batch of videos that he’d made. He had ensured that his face and voice while recording were the ones that  were most popular for each video type that he had made. 

“I am a warp-born sailor just in from Cadia!” Hebe continues to sing, doing his best to keep his mind from wandering too much. He did want to make sure that he didn’t over-knead the dough because he was being absent-minded, after all. 

Keme did the first response again, sounding happier than he had been in some time. Then again, they were able to keep most of what they made, except for a reasonable cut to their fosters for rent, utilities and food. Neither one of them could quite believe the stroke of luck that they had gotten in being able to shelter in this nest.

Hebe continued to next verse of the song “If you buy me a drink, then I’ll sing you a song~”

Keme answered with the second response.

Hebe blinked, as he continued to knead the dough. He hummed the chorus, as he couldn’t quite remember what the lyrics to the chorus were, and trying to push for them made his head hurt and his hands shake. That was something to note down in his journal. He probably didn’t want to know why, as Rahas generally didn’t-

Didn’t…

Did…

…

?

What?

Right! The song! He should go back to the song as he continued to knead the dough, trying to figure out why his mind had gone so strangely blank for several moments. Something warm was sliding down his face, but Hebe paid it no mind. “There’s Sisters and Tech-Priests and Soldiers and all~”

Keme answered with the first call back once again.

Hebe continued to sing, though he was feeling a little… Strange. As if he wasn’t fully in his body for some reason as the words spilled from his lips “They all ship for sailors on the vessel of black~”

Keme answers with the second call again, though his voice sounds hazy and distant.  

Another lyric was pulled out of him as he continues to knead. The smell of the dough was mixed with something coppery. It was familiar in a not-good way. But Hebe felt very floaty and disconnected as he continued to sing “Hide your psykers, lest they never come back.”

Keme answers with the first call… At least he’s pretty sure he hears the other sing again.

Hebe’s vision. Is. Hazy?

He blinks, raising one hand to his mouth as something wet. And sticky? Slides across his lips. He pulls his hand away. Crimson sticks to his fingers. “Keme? I’m going… To sit down now… I feel… Very strange.” 

Hebe stumbles back and falls, though a newly familiar and safe-comfortable set of pale arms catches him as the world dissolves into shadow. 

…

Hebe wakes with a gasp, flailing in confusion as Keme stands over him. “I… What? Where?”

“You started humming loudly and fighting your blankets. We’re at the nest, safe and sound. We’re safe here, Hebe. Whatever nightmare that was haunting you is not real.” Keme soothes, kneeling down and looking his brother directly in the eyes. “… Do you want to talk about it?”

“I… It didn’t seem like a nightmare at first… Then things got weird and I started bleeding while singing.” Hebe explains, trying to hold onto the nightmare to try. And parse it. It made no sense whatsoever. 

“That sucks. Do you think you can go back to sleep tonight? Or do you need time to settle your mind?” Keme asks, voice gentle as he reaches out and pulls his brother into a hug.

“I don’t know… I think I’ll stay up for a bit.” Hebe answers, taking in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “You can go back to sleep, I’ll read for a little bit and then try to sleep after.”

Keme nods and yawns, crawling back into bed and falling asleep moments later.

"Alright, you've brought me out into the middle of somewhere, and I've been wearing this blindfold for hours. What is it that you wanted to show me?" Ahirom asks, a playful note on his voice as he turned his head towards where he could hear the source of his bonded's breathing. He'd been sitting in your car for hours as they drove him... Somewhere.

The sounds of a city had long since fallen away. He could hear the whisper of leaves, and the scent of pollution was much more faint. But he could only guess at the direction- or rather the directions that his bonded had driven him in. 

"I'm not quite ready for you to remove your blindfold just yet. " You respond, and he can hear the amusement in your voice. "I am going to get out of my side of the car, then come around to your side. I want to guide you on foot to the exact spot that I'd like for you to see and experience, but it won't be a long walk. I'll guide you the whole way. Please?"

Ahirom hums softly, his hearts full of love and fondness for his bonded. How could he say no? He knows that they are asking for him to trust them more - and how could he not? "As you wish, my dear. I will follow in your stead."

"Thanks baby, I love you so much-" you gasp softly.

He can imagine that you are biting your lower lip, possibly blushing. Your heartbeat sped up dramatically. 

You had yet to say that you loved him out loud until now.

Ahirom smiles, turning his face towards the source of your voice "I love you too, my hearts."

"You... You do?" Your voice was small, hopeful and vulnerable. 

"Yes, I do. I have for some time, my dear." The Emperor's Child confessed. He had been smitten with them since the first moment you and he had met, as a matter of fact. You work alongside some of his cousins and other baselines in the main cafeteria of Stoneflame base. You'd brought him the first meal he had on Ancient Terra. A turkey and Swiss sandwich with vegetables and a couple of mild sauces and freshly fried fries, and water with cucumber slices and mint leaves. It had felt like a luxurious meal, as Ahirom was used to nutri-gruel, ration bars and whatever could be scrounge up post-battle. There was the occasional feast or celebration of a particularly difficult or spectacular compliance, but that was a rare occurrence. He hadn't confessed his love for you as he hadn't wanted to confess too early and scare you away. 

You had been so gracious when you and he had discovered the Bond. It likely had helped that you had seen other astartes and baselines find that they were bonded, among them being your father, who is bonded to a Salamander, and your mother, who is bonded to an Astral Claw. Still, you had been generous enough to allow him space in your life - not every baseline did. Ahirom had seen some of the fallout of rejected bonds, although how those astartes were stabilized... Ahirom did not know, nor did he ever want to find out.

Your eyes must well from tears, as he can smell salty water suddenly, and you lean over the center console of the car and hug him tightly. "Thank you. I do love you too! I just… I wasn’t sure if it was too early to say that. I know that Bonds can take many different forms, and I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.” 

Ahirom hugs you tightly, tucking your head under his chin, gently pulling you over and into his lap. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and murmurs “I am honored by your love, and I reciprocate how you feel. I am grateful beyond words that you love me romantically as well.”

You bury your face into one of his shoulders, warm and wet tears quickly staining his shirt. You’d been left by potential lovers before because you were told that you loved too quickly and too intensely in the past. You’d gone to therapy and worked on your attachment style, but… With Ahirom, you’d fallen hard and fast and had been doing your best to not come off as too much. You eventually let go, and he brushes the tears from your eyes. “Right. Okay. I’m… Thank you. Let’s go on that short walk to what I wanted to show you.”

“As you wish, my love. You have your key to the car?” He asks, voice warm and gentle and a little bit teasing. 

You pout at him, he’s certain of it as you jingle the key in your hand “I have it right here, thank you for the reminder.” You give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before getting out of the car and off of his lap. You take one of his hands in both of yours and say “Alright, come follow me, love.”

“As you wish, my love.” Ahirom answers, a pleased smile appearing on his face as he unfastens the seatbelt and gets out of your car with an elegance that you envy sometimes. 

You pull him away from the car and close the door behind him. “Okay, the pavement ends in one step for you, and then we’re going to be walking on a dirt path. It’s a gentle incline, but there are no roots or something similar to trip over.” 

“Alright, lead me on, my love.” Ahirom answers, a warm smile on his face - one that makes your cheeks warm and your heart soar and swell in your chest. 

You carefully lead him through the woods, up the gentle incline, and guide him to sit down at the picnic table that you were quickly setting up a spread of delicious foods - many of which you knew he really liked - as well as a sealed pitcher of lemonade. You call out to him “You can remove your blindfold now.” 

Ahirom does so, looking around. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene. You’ve sat him under a weeping willow tree, at the top of a small hill that overlooks a forest. He can see and hear a stream flowing at the base of the far side of the hill. He can hear birds chirping and small woodland creatures skittering around in the underbrush. There are wildflowers growing in vibrant colors. He can see a couple of black and yellow butterflies flitting from flower to flower…

And in the middle of all of this wondrous, perfect splendor, you sit. Radiant and effortlessly gorgeous in your t-shirt and jeans, taking little peeks at him as you fidget with the spread of delicious looking and smelling food. 

“This is… Thank you for bringing me here. Its beauty only pales in comparison to you, my love.” Ahirom murmurs, voice low and reverent as he reaches a hand across the table and gently pulls one of your hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you.”

You blush and murmur “You’re welcome. This is one of my favorite parks. Ready to eat?”

The veterinary clinic sat at the edge of town like a fortress of small miseries.

Magnus saw it first through the truck window as you pulled into the gravel lot. A low, flat-roofed building painted a shade of beige that had given up on ambition decades ago. The sign out front read ST. CELESTINE ANIMAL HOSPITAL in faded blue letters, with a cartoon dog and cat beneath it, both smiling in a way that suggested they had never actually visited the place. The windows were barred with security grates. The front door was solid metal with a hydraulic hinge. It looked, Magnus thought, like a building that had seen things.

More importantly, it felt like one.

The moment the truck crossed the property line, something pressed against the edge of Magnus's psychic awareness. Not a presence. Not a consciousness. An atmosphere. Pain, confusion, resignation clung to the walls and the parking lot and the scrubby bushes by the entrance like old smoke. Not malignant. Not hostile. Just... heavy. The accumulated distress of thousands of animals who had passed through those doors and not understood why.

Magnus ruffled his feathers and tried to draw his mind back. The sensation clung anyway. In his old body he would have dismissed it as background noise. In this one, every instinct screamed at him to fly away.

«Something is wrong with this place» he said.

Leman, already on his feet in the back of the truck, gave him a puzzled look. «It is vet. They fix things.»

«There is a miasma. A weight. Can you not feel it?»

Leman sniffed the air through the open window. His tail wagged once, experimentally. «Smells like disinfectant and cat urine. Nothing new. You are being dramatic.»

«I am not—»

You killed the engine. The sudden silence cut Magnus off. In the front seat, Fulgrim lay motionless on the blanket, and Corvus had gone limp enough that only the faint rise and fall of his chest proved he still lived. You were already out of the truck before Magnus could form another protest.

Leman shouldered the rear door open with practiced ease and jumped down onto the gravel. His paws crunched on the stones. He turned back, tongue lolling, and looked up at Magnus still perched on the torn bench.

«Come. I will show you where treats are.»

«I do not require treats,» Magnus said.

«You will. Nurse has good ones. Liver flavor.»

Magnus stared at him.

Leman stared back, entirely sincere.

Then you yanked the passenger door open and gathered Fulgrim into your arms with a care that made Magnus's complaint die in his throat. The snake was utterly limp. Blood had dried in dark patches along his purple scales. You cradled him against your chest, then reached for Corvus. The raven stirred weakly at the motion, beak opening, but no sound came out. You tucked him into the crook of your other arm and kicked the truck door shut behind you.

"Leman, with me. Now."

Leman fell into step beside you at once. Magnus had no choice but to launch himself from the truck and flap after you, landing awkwardly on the pavement just outside the clinic door.

The hydraulic hinge hissed as you shoved through.

Inside, the clinic was aggressively clean. White tile floors. Fluorescent lights that buzzed at a frequency Magnus could feel in his beak. A reception desk with a computer and a stack of clipboards. Chairs along one wall, the kind with molded plastic seats and metal legs. A woman behind the desk looked up as you burst in, and her expression shifted from routine boredom to alert concern in half a second.

"I need Dr. Chen," you said. "Now. Snake and a raven. Both attacked. The snake's been bleeding for at least twenty minutes. The raven has a wing injury and possible shock."

The receptionist was already on her feet, pressing a button on the desk. "He's in Exam Two. Go straight back. I'll tell him you're coming."

You didn't wait. You pushed through the swinging door into the hallway beyond, Leman at your heels, Magnus flapping behind in a controlled panic.

The hallway smelled worse than the waiting room. Sharper. More chemical. Under the disinfectant, Magnus caught the ghost-scent of blood and urine and the cold metallic tang of surgical steel. The psychic weight pressed harder here. Not evil. Just... heavy. The walls had absorbed too much animal terror over too many years. It seeped out now like groundwater.

Magnus hated it.

A man in a white coat stepped out of a doorway ahead. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with graying hair and a face that had settled into calm competence decades ago. His hands were already gloved. His eyes went straight to the animals in your arms.

"Exam Two," he said. "On the table. Tell me what happened."

You followed him into a small room lined with cabinets and dominated by a stainless steel examination table. You laid Fulgrim out first, then Corvus beside him. The raven's good eye flickered open and fixed on the vet with a venom Magnus could feel across the room.

"Fight," you said, breathless. "I don't know the details. I found them in the trees behind my property. The snake had talon marks all over him. The raven's wing is broken or dislocated. They've both lost a lot of blood."

Dr. Chen was already examining Fulgrim, fingers moving with a gentleness that surprised Magnus. "Colubrid. Purple glossy snake. These punctures are consistent with bird talons. Corvid, by the spacing." He glanced at Corvus. "Your raven did this?"

"I think so. I don't know. They were just... on the ground together."

The vet made a noncommittal sound and continued his examination. Fulgrim did not move. His tongue did not flick. For one awful moment, Magnus thought he had died in the truck without anyone noticing.

Then Fulgrim's tail twitched.

Magnus released a breath he had not realized he was holding.

"We're going to need to sedate both of them," Dr. Chen said. He was already reaching for a drawer. "The snake's wounds need cleaning and suturing. The raven's wing needs imaging before I can set it. Are they wild or yours?"

"Mine," you said, then hesitated. "Sort of. Rescues. Recent."

The vet nodded as though this explained everything.

Behind him, a young woman in scrubs appeared in the doorway. "Dr. Chen, we've got the surgery suite prepped."

"Good. Get Kim and start on the snake. I'll take the raven." He glanced at you. "You'll need to wait in the front. We'll update you as soon as we know more."

You looked down at Fulgrim and Corvus, and Magnus saw the war on your face. The urge to stay. The knowledge that staying would only be in the way.

"Please," you said. "Please save them."

Dr. Chen met your eyes. "We'll do our best."

Two more nurses appeared. One lifted Fulgrim with practiced hands and carried him out. The other, a stocky woman with a no-nonsense expression, scooped up Corvus despite his weak attempt to snap at her.

That was when Corvus started screaming.

It was not a bird's cry. It was something older and rawer, dragged up from a place that had nothing to do with broken wings. It cut through the hallway like a blade. Magnus felt it in his skull. In his chest. In every feather that stood suddenly on end.

You flinched.

The nurse held firm. "Easy, easy. You're okay. We've got you."

"Can I go with him?" you asked.

Dr. Chen shook his head. "It's better if you wait. Animals pick up on our stress. If you're calm out front, it'll help them stay calm in back."

Magnus wanted to point out that Corvus had not been calm a single moment since arriving on this planet, but he held his tongue. Not that he could speak aloud anyway.

You let yourself be guided back to the waiting room. Your shoulders were tight. Your hands were trembling faintly. Leman immediately rested his head on your knee. You scratched behind his ears on autopilot, eyes fixed on the door to the back.

Magnus perched on the chair beside you and stared at that same door.

The screaming continued for a long time.

---

The nurse named Daisy had very gentle hands and absolutely no fear of birds.

Magnus discovered this the hard way when she scooped him off the chair without warning, tucked him under one arm like a feathery football, and carried him into an exam room before he could process what was happening.

"Let's get a look at you too," she said, setting him on a towel-lined table. "Looks like you were in the wars as well."

Magnus opened his beak to protest. What came out was an undignified squawk.

"Shh, shh. I know. It's been a rough day."

He was not being comforted. He was a Primarch. He had commanded fleets and shattered worlds and bent the laws of reality to his will. He did not require shushing.

Daisy ran a gloved finger along the edge of his injured wing, and Magnus's entire body locked up.

"That's a nasty scrape," she said. "Doesn't look deep, but we should clean it and get some antibiotic cream on it. You'll be sore for a few days." She paused, tilting her head. "You're a big boy, aren't you? Biggest macaw I've ever seen."

Magnus puffed his chest feathers on reflex before he could stop himself. Leman, the traitor, was watching from the open doorway with his tail wagging.

«She called you big,» Leman said into his mind. «You are weak to praise.»

«I am not weak to anything,» Magnus snapped.

«Your feathers puffed.»

«That was a physiological response to temperature variation.»

«Sure, sure.»

Daisy cleaned the scrape with something that stung, then applied a cool gel that soothed. Magnus tolerated this with what he considered monumental dignity. She then checked his blind eye, made a soft sympathetic sound, and declared that she could not do much for it but it did not seem to be causing him pain.

Then she said the words that changed everything.

"Okay, big guy. Just two quick injections and you'll be all set."

Magnus went rigid.

He saw the syringe in her hand. It was enormous. It was sharp. It was filled with a liquid that gleamed under the fluorescent lights like liquid malevolence.

«What. Is. That?» he said, and his mental voice was not quite steady.

Leman, still in the doorway, tilted his head. «Medicine.»

«I do not require medicine.»

«You fought Corvus. You might have bird germs.»

«Bird—» Magnus's mind stuttered. «There are no such things as bird germs!»

«Nurse thinks there are.»

Daisy swabbed a spot on his breast with alcohol. The cold made him flinch. "It's okay big guy, just a little pinch," she said.

Magnus prepared himself for the worst pain of his existence.

The needle went in. It was, objectively, a very small pinch.

Magnus squawked anyway. Loudly. With feeling.

"Aww, poor baby," Daisy cooed. "Almost done. One more."

The second injection was worse only because Magnus knew it was coming. He held perfectly still through sheer force of will and stared at the far wall while she doing it. Leman's tail was now wagging hard enough to create a breeze.

«You screamed,» Leman observed.

«I expressed surprise verbally,» Magnus corrected.

«You did a loud bird noise. It was a scream.»

Magnus turned his head very slowly and fixed Leman with his one good eye. «I will remember this.»

A second nurse appeared in the doorway, the same stocky woman who had carried Corvus back. She had a bag of treats in one hand and a roll of bandages in the other. When she saw Leman, her face broke into a grin.

"Leman! There's my favorite troublemaker."

Leman's entire body wiggled. He trotted over to her and sat down with the precise posture of a dog who knew exactly how to work the system. She crouched and rubbed both hands over his ears while he leaned into it, eyes half-lidded.

"How's the mouth, buddy? Let me see."

Leman opened his jaws obediently. The nurse peered at the cut on his gums from the metal latch, made a thoughtful noise, and dabbed it with something from a tube.

"Not bad. Keep it clean. No chewing on metal, okay?"

Leman licked her hand.

«You are shameless,» Magnus said.

«I have treats now,» Leman replied, and it was true. The nurse had produced a biscuit from the bag and was feeding it to him in small pieces. «She is my favorite human who is not the handler. She gives the good biscuits. The ones shaped like bones.»

Magnus, still moping on the exam table with two injection sites throbbing faintly on his breast, hated him a little bit.

The nurses finished their work and left them in a small recovery area off the side of the waiting room. It was a quiet corner with a few cages, a bench, and a low table covered in magazines. Magnus hopped down from the exam table and retreated to the farthest corner, where he hunched his shoulders and glared at nothing.

Leman followed, still chewing his biscuit.

«You are sulking,» Leman said.

«I am recovering. There is a difference.»

«From two little needle-pokes?»

Magnus turned his back.

The recovery area had a window that looked out onto the parking lot. The sun had shifted while they were inside. Late afternoon light slanted across the gravel, catching the dust in golden bars. Magnus stared at it and tried to sort through the tangle of his thoughts.

Fulgrim might die. Corvus might die. The day had started with a bath and ended with a truck full of blood, and somewhere in the middle of it all, he had seen roads that might have been built on ancient Terra. This planet, this absurd little farm world, was either the cradle of humanity or a very convincing echo of it. Either way, it was significant. Either way, he needed more information.

He also needed to stop being poked with needles.

Leman settled onto the bench beside him, front paws dangling over the edge in a pose that was not quite dignified. His golden fur was dirty in places from earlier.

«You have questions,» Leman said. «I can feel them rattling around. Ask.»

Magnus hesitated. He was not accustomed to asking Leman Russ for information. The old dynamic between them had been built on rivalry, suspicion, and the unspoken understanding that their father had pitted them against each other like game pieces. This easy, open offer of help was disorienting.

He pushed the old resentment aside with effort.

«The vet,» Magnus said. «You have been here before.»

«Many times,» Leman agreed. «Dr. Che is good man. Stitched my side when I fought badger. Removed thorn from my paw. Gave me medicine when I ate something I should not have eaten.»

«What did you eat?»

«Many things,» Leman said evasively. «The point is, he fixes things. He fixed me. He will fix Fulgrim and the Raven too.»

Magnus wanted to believe that. He wanted it with a ferocity that surprised him. The alternative was that he had watched Corvus nearly kill Fulgrim, then helped carry them both to this place of cold tile and chemical smells, only to have them die on a metal table while strangers poked at their wounds.

From somewhere deep in the back of the clinic, a fresh scream cut through the walls.

Corvus.

Magnus's feathers tightened. Beside him, Leman's ears flattened.

«He is very angry,» Leman said.

«He is very everything.»

The scream faded into a hoarse croak, then silence. A moment later, Magnus heard your voice through the door, low and soothing, the words indistinct but the cadence unmistakably gentle. You must have been allowed back after all, or perhaps you had simply ignored the vet's advice and gone anyway. Magnus found he was not surprised.

«She is with him,» Leman said. «This is good. Her voice makes things less scary.»

«You sound like a puppy.»

«I sound like someone who has been scared and then not-scared because handler was there,» Leman said without embarrassment. «It works. You will see.»

Magnus did not answer.

Another scream. This one shorter. Then a long silence broken only by the murmur of your voice and the distant clink of surgical instruments.

Magnus looked away from the door and found himself staring at the magazines on the low table. They were the sort of publications that existed only in waiting rooms: issues of farming periodicals and pet care digests and a single copy of a news magazine with a headline about a local pumpkin festival. He hopped onto the table and used his beak to flip one open.

The pages were glossy. The words were in Low Gothic, or something very close to it. Advertisements for livestock feed. An article about rotational grazing. A photograph of a cow that had won a ribbon.

He flipped another page with his claw.

«What are you doing?» Leman asked.

«Gathering intelligence.»

«You are reading about cow.»

«The cow may be relevant.»

Leman made a sound that might have been a laugh. «You are bored.»

Magnus flipped another page more aggressively than necessary. «I am a scholar. I have written treatises on metaphysics and the nature of the Warp. I can find interest in any subject, no matter how mundane.»

«What does the article say?»

Magnus scanned the text. «It is about... the nutritional benefits of alfalfa.»

«Ha.»

He flipped the magazine closed and shoved it away with one foot. Across the room, a young nurse was watching them. She had her phone out and was pointing it in their direction, a small smile on her face.

Magnus went very still.

«Leman,» he said. «What is that object?»

Leman followed his gaze. «Phone.»

«What does it do?»

«Many things.» Leman's tail wagged slowly. «Takes pictures. Sends messages. Shows moving pictures of dogs doing tricks. Handler watches it at night and laughs.»

Magnus stared at the phone with renewed intensity. A communication device. A repository of information. Possibly a gateway to understanding this world and how they had arrived here.

«The nurse is pointing it at us,» he observed.

«She is taking picture,» Leman said. «You are very red. People like taking pictures of red birds.»

Magnus preened a chest feather into place before he could stop himself. «I am not merely red. I am Ara macao. The colouration is striking.»

«You are preening again.»

«I am maintaining my feathers.»

The nurse tapped at her phone, smiled at whatever she had captured, and tucked it back into her pocket. Magnus tracked the motion with sharp focus.

«Could I use one?» he asked.

Leman looked at him. Then, very slowly, looked down at Magnus's feet.

His claws, sharp and curved, designed for gripping perches and branches and the occasional Corvus Corax. Not designed for tapping on small flat rectangles.

Magnus followed his gaze. Understood. Felt a spike of irritation so pure it made his blind eye twitch.

«Do not say it,» he warned.

Leman said nothing. His silence was somehow worse than words.

«I could operate it with my beak,» Magnus said.

«Sure.»

«I am very precise.»

«I believe you.»

«You do not believe me.»

Leman's ears tipped back in what Magnus now recognized as suppressed amusement. «You would peck phone. Phone would break. Nurse would be sad.»

Magnus wanted to argue. He wanted to list every fine motor skill he had possessed in his original body, every delicate manipulation of warp-stuff and material reality that had earned him the title of sorcerer. But his current body was a bird. His beak was good for cracking nuts and biting his brother's wing and not much else. And Leman, the infuriating mutt, was right.

He settled for a low, irritated croak.

From the back of the clinic, the screaming had stopped entirely. Magnus noticed the silence the way one noticed the absence of a toothache. It should have been a relief. Instead, it made him nervous.

«They have finished,» Leman said. «Or sedated him enough that he cannot scream.»

«Those are very different things.»

«Yes.»

They waited.

The minutes stretched. The sunlight outside shifted another few degrees. The nurse who had taken Magnus's picture moved past the recovery area with a stack of folders. She waved at Leman. Leman wagged his tail.

Then the door to the back swung open.

You stepped out, and Magnus knew before you spoke that it was going to be all right. Your face was tired and your shirt was still stained with blood, but your shoulders had dropped from your ears. You walked like someone who had just put down a weight.

Dr. Chen followed you out, pulling off his gloves.

"They're both stable," he said, and Magnus felt something loosen in his chest. "The snake—Fulgrim, you called him?—had seven puncture wounds and some bruising, but nothing hit anything vital. We cleaned them out, stitched where we could, bandaged the rest. He's on fluids and antibiotics. He'll be sore for a while, but snakes are resilient. He should recover fully."

"And the raven?" you asked.

Dr. Chen's expression flickered. "Corvus is... a fighter. The wing wasn't broken, just dislocated and badly strained. We've got it back in place and wrapped. The bigger concern was blood loss and shock. He's resting now. Honestly, I'm surprised he made it this far. That's a tough bird."

You let out a breath that seemed to come from somewhere deep in your gut. "Can I see them?"

"In a few minutes. We're moving them to recovery now. They'll need to stay overnight for observation."

You nodded, and for a moment you just stood there, looking at the vet with an expression Magnus could not quite read. Gratitude. Exhaustion. Something softer underneath.

"Thank you," you said. "Really. I know they're just... animals. But they're my animals. Even the ones who bite me."

Dr. Che smiled. It was a tired smile, the kind worn by people who had spent years caring for creatures that could not thank them. "That's what we're here for. Now, what about the other two?"

You turned. Magnus and Leman were both watching from the recovery area. Magnus tried to look like he had not been eavesdropping. Leman did not try at all.

"Daisy took care of them," Dr. Chen said, checking a chart on the wall. "The macaw had a scrape on his wing and some bruising. Cleaned and bandaged. He also got his vaccinations updated, but he will need to go another day for follow-up appointments and vaccinations."

Magnus's head snapped up. «Again?»

"Good," you said. "He probably needed them."

"Also a beak trim might be in order, but we didn't want to stress him more today."

Magnus clacked his beak shut. «Beak trim?»

Leman made a sound that was suspiciously like a snicker.

"And Leman's mouth is fine," Dr. Chen added. "Superficial cut. He'll heal."

"He always does," you said, and the affection in your voice was so casual and so genuine that Magnus felt like an intruder hearing it.

You walked over to them. Leman stood up on the bench and pressed his head into your hand. You scratched him behind the ears, then looked at Magnus.

"You okay, big guy? They poke you?"

Magnus wanted to say that he had been stabbed twice, mocked by a dog, and threatened with cosmetic beak modification. What came out was a soft, involuntary chirp.

You smiled. "Yeah. You're fine."

Magnus wanted to be offended. He found he could not quite manage it.

---

They left the clinic an hour later, after you had visited the recovery room and stood with your hand pressed against Fulgrim's terrarium glass, after you had spoken softly to Corvus until the raven's good eye closed in something like sleep. The sun was low and orange. The air had cooled.

Magnus rode on your shoulder this time, claws gripping the fabric of your shirt. Leman walked beside you, tired but content, his tail sweeping slow arcs through the air.

They were almost to the truck when Magnus saw the boy.

He was small, perhaps six or seven years old, sitting on the clinic steps with a plastic carrier cage beside him. A woman who must have been his mother was inside talking to the receptionist. The boy was alone, kicking his feet against the concrete, and on his lap was the cage.

Inside the cage was a hedgehog.

Magnus froze.

The hedgehog was small. Smaller than a hedgehog should be. Its spines were patchy and dull, sticking out at odd angles. Its body was curled into a tight, defensive ball, but even from ten feet away, Magnus could feel the exhaustion radiating from it. The weakness. The pain. Old injuries healed badly. New ones still raw.

And beneath all of that, buried so deep it was almost lost, was a mind he knew.

«Perturabo?.»

The name tore out of him before he could stop it. A psychic shout so loud that Leman flinched.

«Magnus? What—»

Magnus launched from your shoulder.

You yelled in surprise. Your hand swiped for him and missed. Magnus beat his wings once, twice, and shot toward the boy and the cage like a crimson missile. The boy looked up with wide eyes. The cage rattled as Magnus collided with the wire door, claws scrabbling at the latch.

«Perturabo! Perturabo, it's me! Magnus! Can you hear me?»

Inside the cage, the hedgehog twitched.

Slowly, painfully, it uncurled just enough to lift its head. Its eyes were small and dark and rimmed with crust. They focused on Magnus with an effort that looked like it hurt.

The mind that touched his was faint. Threadbare. Dragged up from some deep well of exhaustion.

«...Magnus?»

«Yes. Yes, it's me. I'm here. We're here. Leman is here. What happened to you? How long have you been—»

«I don't...» Perturabo's thought frayed at the edges. «I don't remember. I woke up... cold. Small. Everything hurts...» A long pause, filled with static. «I am so tired.»

«Stay awake,» Magnus said. «Stay awake. I'll get you out of that cage. I'll—»

He yanked at the wire door with his beak. It did not budge.

«Magnus, what are you doing?» Leman was at his side now, looking from the cage to the boy to the hedgehog inside. «Is that—»

«It's Perturabo.»

Leman's ears went flat. «Storms take us. He looks worse than Fulgrim.»

«Help me open this.»

«How? I have paws.»

«Then find the handler! Get her to—»

"Hey! Hey, bird!"

The boy was on his feet, trying to shield the cage with his body. He looked scared. Magnus realized, distantly, that he was probably terrifying: a massive macaw with one blind eye and bandaged wing, attacking a child's pet carrier.

Your hands closed around him from behind.

"Magnus! What the hell!"

He fought you. He had never fought you before, not really, but he fought you now. His wings beat against your arms. His beak snapped at the air. He was screaming, a horrible raw sound, and he did not care.

«Perturabo!»

Inside the cage, the hedgehog curled up again. Slowly. Like a door closing.

«It's all right,» Perturabo's voice came, very faint. «It's all right. Go. I'll be... I'll be here.»

«No. No, I'm not leaving you. I'm not—»

You pulled Magnus against your chest and held him there, one hand gentle over his wings. "Shh. Shh. It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."

The boy's mother came running out of the clinic. There were voices. Explanations. Someone apologizing. Someone laughing nervously. The cage was picked up and carried away.

Magnus watched it go. He watched until the boy and his mother climbed into a car. He watched until the car pulled out of the parking lot and vanished down the road.

Then he went limp in your arms.

You were quiet on the drive home. Leman lay across the back seat with his head on his paws, staring at nothing. Magnus sat on your shoulder again, pressed against the warmth of your neck, and did not speak.

The farm appeared through the windshield as the last light left the sky.

«We will find him,» Leman said into the quiet of their shared mind.

Magnus did not answer.

«We found each other. We will find him too. I promise.»

Magnus closed his eyes. The memory of Perturabo's threadbare voice echoed in his skull. The image of those patchy spines, that exhausted curl, stayed printed on the inside of his eyelids.

He was a scholar. He had written treatises on metaphysics and the nature of reality. He had believed, once, that knowledge could solve anything.

Now he was a bird in a truck on a backwater world, and one of his brothers was trapped in a cage and being carried away by strangers and there was nothing he could do about it except sit on a warm shoulder and wait for tomorrow.

«Rest,» Leman said. «We hunt tomorrow.»

Magnus let out a breath that was almost, but not quite, a laugh.

«Since when do you plan strategy?»

«Since I became dog,» Leman said. «Dogs are very good at finding things. It is what we do.»

The truck rumbled on through the dark.

"Excuse me, big mister! Big mister!" A young child called out, waving at Darsas as he was carefully lumbering by. She was standing on top of a playground structure of some sort

He blinks in mild surprise, pausing and kneeling down so that he wasn't looming as much over the young mortal. "Yes, what is it, little one?" She seemed... Vaguely familiar, although Darsas wasn't entirely sure why. He knows that he hasn't met her before, but there was something familiar in the shape of her eyes, the point of her chin, and in the lovely curls that frame her face. 

"You are good friends with my auntie!" The young child declared "But Mama and Papa say that you are super scary and that's why we can't visit her at her home when you are there. But you don't seem that scary to me!" 

"Oh! Are you Miss Tara?" Darsas asked, his eyes widening as to why she seemed so familiar and clicked into place "Your mama and auntie- my bonded Honey - had a big argument, before you were born about whether or not they were going to try to avoid Astartes or not. Your mama thinks that all astartes are scary, and is worried that one of us might steal you away from her." 

The young child giggles nervously, shifting anxiously from foot to foot "You're not going to steal me away from my mama and papa, are you?"

"Only if they were doing bad things to you, or letting bad things happen to you, or left you alone for a long time all by yourself." Darsas answers honestly.

"Do you pinky promise?" Little miss Tara asks, sticking a tiny finger out in his direction.

Darsas tilts his head a little "What is a pinky promise?"

"It means that you really, really mean the promise! You curl your pinky around mine, and I do the same to yours!" Tara answered, a serious expression appearing on her little face.

He blinks and nods, familiar with similar little rituals "What would you like me to promise?" 

"That you won't try to steal me away from my mama and papa! Also that you will love and care for my auntie forever!" The young child explained. 

There were a dozen ways he could twist the wording of the promise, but Darsas would rather not stress out the young child. He's both amused and rather impressed by her audacity, especially as Honey cut contact with most of her family due to their anti-astartes views, among other reasons. Not the least of which being that he could inform any Salamander Ever if he was concerned about her welfare and simply...

Sit back and watch the metaphorical and possibly literal fireworks.

"I pinky promise not to take you away from your parents, so long as they ensure your continued good health and welfare. Additionally, I pinky promise to love Honey forever." Darsas hums. He already planned on loving his beloved bonded for eternity anyways. This was no hardship to promise. He very carefully curls one of his pinky fingers around her offered one, a small smile appearing on his face as he holds the little one's pinky for several seconds before gently letting go. "Anything else, little one? Also, where is a trusted adult of yours?"

"My babysitter is over there. He's reading a book an' messing around on his phone. Bye bye big mister!" young miss Tara responds, waving cheerfully.

"See you later, little one. Please do not approach adult strangers, except in emergencies, alright? Not everyone is as kind as I am." Darsas murmurs. He does not want to scare or scar her, but he would rather not hear from Honey that her niece went missing one day, because she trusted the wrong person. 

Nirvikar stretched and hummed, a pleased grin appearing on his face as he carefully finished the final loop, hook, curl and twist required to finish off the hand-crocheted blanket that he'd been working on for the better part of three months. He had learned a great deal about how to crochet a blanket - and how not to crochet a blanket. He'd needed to unravel several sections of the blanket when it had become obvious that he had slipped a stitch, or made one of a dozen other small mistakes that would have had an unfortunate effect on the blanket, should he have not made sure to correct it by undoing everything after he made the mistake, then the mistake itself and continue crocheting the blanket. He had picked yarn that was of his bonded's preferred weight and texture. He had even chosen their favorite colors. 

While the guides that he had read both in what passed for the Noosphere in this era, as well as physical paper guides had recommended that beginners either stick to a single color, or simple patterns like stripes... Nirvikar was not only an Astartes, he was an Emperor's Child. This gift is a courting gift for his bonded, and he would accept nothing less than perfection when it came to gifts that he acquired or made for his bonded.

At the urging of his bonded, Nirvikar had joined a local club full of fiber arts enthusiasts. They were a mix of baselines and Astartes, and everyone worked on individual projects, chatted about what their plans were for new ones, and generally spent time together. Nirvikar found that most of the group was fairly welcoming to him, despite the fact that he was quite clearly a Chaos Marine.

There were a couple of corpse worshippers - one of whom did not partake in fiber arts directly, but instead aided his bonded in making the beautiful quilts that she made by fetching the squares of cloth that she needed, or cutting out the pinned pieces of fabric as she carefully stitched everything together. The Black Templar was a grumpy and growly bastard, at least whenever he spotted Nirvikar or one of the other Chaos Marines who had just as much right to be at the club as anyone else. 

Nirvikar outwardly pretended that he was ignoring the grumpy bastard, as he had been told that deliberately antagonizing loyalists was against the spirit of the alliance that kept the corpse worshippers from trying to slaughter everyone in their foam-mouthed frothing zealous and blind devotion to a false god. He was acutely aware of where the other was in the room, and the way he glared at him. 

He carefully tied off the end of the blanket before cutting it so that there wouldn't be much of a tail to deal with. He pulled out his sewing kit, and carefully threaded one of his needles, sewing the end of the yarn so that it was much less likely to unravel. A pleased grin appeared on his face as he carefully rolled and stretched his wrists. He held the blanket up, carefully inspecting it one final time. He really hoped that his bonded would like the floral pattern he'd carefully crocheted into the blanket. 

Satisfied that the blanket was up to his standards, Nirvikar carefully folded the blanket and placed it into the wooden box that he had hand carved and painted before closing the lid and sliding the small mechanism to lock it into place. 

Mindy - one of the other crocheters of the group - walks over to him and asks "What do you think your next project is going to be? That floral pattern is really lovely."

"Why thank you! It took me several tries before I could get the pattern down properly as this is the first large crochet project that I've tackled. I am grateful that you pointed out that the flowers were going to end up crooked about three weeks ago, if I didn't go back and fix it." Nirvikar responds with a grin "As for what I want to do for my next project.... I can't rightly say that I have anything in mind at the moment. I'll do some research about what I'd like to do... I did watch a couple of lace making videos, and I imagine that once one gets the patterns down, that moving the bobbins back and forth is a rather meditative process... But I'd need to get more and different supplies..."

Mindy nods, and offers "Several of us make blankets, scarves, mittens and hats for the children's hospital. You've got an excellent eye for detail and your craftwork is very impressive. And they're always grateful for the donations."

Nirvikar hums thoughtfully about the suggestion "I see... It would be nice to know that more of what I make is going to those who need a bit of perfection and comfort in their lives." 

Mindy beams, moving in closer and placing a hand on his elbow "I am really glad that you started coming here, Nirvikar. Your stories and songs always bring such a lively atmosphere to the fibercraft club. If I may be so bold as to ask, you never said who that blanket and box are for. They're really lucky, whoever they are."

Nirvikar beamed as he hugged the box a little closer to his chest "Thank you! And I am grateful that you were willing to take the less than perfect boxes I made while I was working on making this one. As for who this is for, why these gifts are for my bonded!"

".... Bonded?" Mindy echoed, her voice getting an oddly strained-sad quality to it. He can't imagine why. Unless she had a bonded who'd rejected her? That'd be a shame, as she's a lovely person. Then again, the chapter most likely to reject a bond among the corpse worshippers at least were Black Templars, who were horribly rude bastards most of the time. Chaos Marines who avoided bonds tended to not go anywhere near mortal settlements, as to avoid the chance entirely, as the whims of the warp tended to saddle stubborn or cruel chaos marines with intense bonds that kept them from wreaking havoc. 

"Yes, the lovely, amazing, wonderful mortal I am bonded to! I love them with all of my hearts, and both of these things are gifts to them, to show my affection and appreciation for them." Nirvikar explained, rocking back and fourth on his heels a little as he thought about the absolute love of his life, his muse, his grounding touch-stone. 

Mindy's expression seemed to have... Frozen. Or become quite fake? How strange. But that wasn't really his problem, though he was distantly fond of her, they weren't close friends or anything. "I see. Well, I hope that your lucky bonded likes your gifts." Her phone chimed a moment later "Oh! I need... I need to go answer this. Talk to you later, Nirvikar."