This was uncomfortable, Sanguinius thought, sitting across from her. Cassia ate her soup slowly, not being the talkative person she often was during these times with the great angel. She sipped her wine, but she often appeared absorbed in thought. He would ask her what she was thinking — trying to encourage any sort of conversation to distract his thoughts — and she would simply state something such as ‘the weather we’ve been having’ or her discussing whether to get a new dress soon.
“You have been particularly quite this evening, my friend,” Sanguinius spoke up, getting tired of watching her eat her soup so quietly.
Cassia put her spoon back onto the table, and looked up. “Have I?” She asked, clearing her throat.
“You have not been so quiet in a long time.’ He said, trying to not sound so worried. ‘Is something weighing on your mind?”
She looked down at her soup, and took the spoon into her hand again. She began eating another spoonful, but not saying anything.
Sanguinius’s face became that of concern. “Please, Cassia, tell me what is weighing so heavily on you tonight?”
“Nothing, angel.’ She smirked, though he noticed a blush creep over her cheeks. She then met his gaze. ‘You are so concerned about me, and yet your conversation is quite shallow as well.”
“You are usually the one taking control of our conversations, friend.’ Sanguinius smiled slyly, happy she was talking to him again. ‘You are incredibly bold and brazen for someone so used to the company of a Primarch.”
“You trust me to listen, and I listen. And I say nothing to no one. It should feel like an honor to hold the truest opinions of Lord Sanguinius so close to my chest, but in truth, your biggest secrets are not particularly… exciting. Not to me at least.”
Sanguinius laughed. “Oh really? The Great Angel has not been particularly entertaining for you?”
Cassia laughed. “In all honesty, my lord, your worries and fears are often what most people worry and fear. Perhaps on a larger scale, but I have met weaker men who are just as terrified of disappointing their fathers.” Cassia took a large gulp of wine.
“I understand that I am not the first, nor would I feel surprised if my sons harbored the same worries as I do,” Sanguinius said casually, and sipped from his.
“Men have done so much worse for their fathers, too,’ she said quietly. ‘But you are still so kind and gentle, despite it all.”
It was Sanguinius’ turn to blush now at his friend’s compliment. He nodded, and began eating again. She also began eating, and the two were quiet for some time like this.
Into the evening, around the time Cassia would usually leave the angel’s dwelling for home, Sanguinius requested she stay.
They sat together quietly, looking together at the stars in the evening sky.
“Cassia, my friend…I wish to confess more to you, if that is alright?” The angel asked, his voice softer than usual.
“Yes, my lord?” Cassia cocked her head to the side, looking at the great angel expectedly.
Sanguinius’ wings puffed up suddenly. “By the Emperor, why does this keep happening?” Sanguinius leapt to his feet and pushed his wings back down, his face growing redder than before.
“Are you all right, Sanguinius?” She asked, standing up, looking to see if she could assist.
“No, no, I’m alright. They’ve just been doing…this for a while now. My brother says it’s because—”
“Because of what?” She asked, a concerned look on her face.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing you should worry yourself over. Please sit!” Sanguinius finally got his wings to calm down again, and he sat.
“You’re blushing,’ she pointed out. ‘Don’t tell me the wine is that strong,” she teased.
“You know how I feel about my wings. Sometimes it feels as if they’ve a mind of their own.”
“Or perhaps they give you away?” Cassia teased again.
“Admittedly, they have at times acted on my behalf it seemed. A blessing and a curse.”
“Now, your confession?” Cassia drew his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Ah, yes, that,’ The angel could feel his wings wanting to puff up again. ‘Please forgive me for what I am about to say, my friend.”
Cassia’s eyes grew wide. What could he have to tell her that would require forgiveness.
“Do you recall the incident last week? The one where you had accidentally…kissed me?”
Cassia’s heart dropped. “Yes, I remember it quite well, my lord.”
The angel’s eyes were downcast, and half his energy was just fighting to keep his wings stable — a battle he was slowly losing, he could feel. “Did you mean to do that?”
Cassia swallowed hard. “Did I…do it because I had feelings for you?”
“Yes,” he replied, voice heavy and quieter.
“No, my lord. At the time, I did not do it because I felt any particular way for you. It was the wine.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, my lord. My most sincerest apologies if I have offended or broken your trust—”
Sanguinius’ wings fluffed again, fuller, expanding wider. “By the throne!” He cursed in frustration.
“My lord, is everything alright? Seriously?” Cassia asked, standing to offer any assistance.
“These cursed wings will be the death of me, I swear!” He grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand.
“Wait.’ Cassia paused. ‘ARE you upset or offended by what happened?”
Sanguinius looked up at her, eyes pleading something. “No, I was not.”
“Then… the kiss…”
“I will admit that I had not initially felt much of anything aside from you having been inebriated by the wine that night. I had been caught off guard when you had pulled me to your lips.”
“I apologize.”
“Don’t. Please, don’t,” he pleaded softly.
“My lord…”
“I need you to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply.”
“As I you, my lord.”
“No, not just as a friend, or a confidant. Your kiss made me realize that my feelings for you are much more intense than that.”
“Oh,” was all she could reply with, stunned. Cassia’s heart began to beat faster. The great angel cared for her.
“As I said,’ he smiled but it was a smile that felt wrong, trying to placate any awkwardness with his typical demeanor,’ You need not reciprocate anything.”
“My lord… I have also thought about that night as well,’ she swallowed again, wringing her hands gently. ‘I had worried I had offended you.”
He laughed, relaxing his body somewhat. “No, quite the opposite, I should say.”
“Are you sure that you’ve…feelings for me?”
“I have never felt the emotions that I have encountered lately. I admit you have wandered into my thoughts more since your kiss than I could have imagined anything else could. In discussing battle plans and the desires of the Emperor, I envision your mouth as it was on mine.”
“Do your hearts beat faster when you do?”
“Yes, very much so. I find it distracting, and I worry my men will ask me what plagues my thoughts as well.”
“You may tell them they are thoughts of me.”
Sanguinius felt his breath catch. He pulled her closer to him as he remained seated. “Do you—”
“Yes, I think so…”
In the first impulsive and selfish move he had ever made, he pulled Cassia into his arms again. He did not feel her resist as he brought his mouth to hers again. She was so, so soft. Her mouth tasted of wine and something uniquely her. She did not pull away, letting a little whimper escape her.
When kiss ended after several moments, Cassia looked at Sanguinius and smiled. “Am I to call you ‘my angel’ now?”
“You may call me whatever you desire, as long as I may call you ‘mine’.”
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- Forrix probably reads and/or writes a lot in the few moments in between actively holding the entire Fleet's logistic system together + leading his 1st Grand Battalion + being Perturabos equerry.
- Barban Falk either is not as emotionally stunted as the usual Iron Warrior, has some warp assistance in reading the flows of emotions on people (esp with Perty that's quite a feat)
-> probably the only Iron Warrior where I can imagine playing an instrument, since Falk works a lot more like an astropath in his warsmithery than someone like Forrix. Literally empathy based siege warfare Hahahahaha. I'd like it to be the harp, an electronic one where he can still touch the hearts of those he wants to and completely distort those he didn't.
- Kroeger in addition to being a danger loving butcher with passion and massive loudmouth also is a massive gym bro and will remind his opponents of the scar tissue he dealt them just for them to fight him again. He kinda is beloathed because he'll absolutely exploit the fragile ego his brothers have to goad them to fight him...
-> no wonder he's that pathetic bastard Harkor's lieutenant, although I would've wished for him to be Grendels or something. A brawler but at least not such a massive petulant little cunt like Harkor. I don't like Harkor, he better have squealed under Kroeger's power claw that bitch. If Kroeger were not possessed at that time, I bet it would've felt real good to dig into him if he found out that his former captain wanted to kill him and Forrix cause noble. I need him to do that again ngl
- there's actually a bit of a bond between sergeants/chaplains and their scouts/line brothers if the older party sees extraordinary amounts of potential or a talent that's rare in the IVth. (like Barban Falk lowkey lol.)
Curze got down to his knees and wrapped his arms around his wife.
“Konrad — Konrad what are you doing?” She yelled.
“Fulgrim said that I needed to hold you closely if you were too angry to forgive me.”
“Let me go!”
“No, not until you forgive me.”
“And what makes you think you’ve earned my forgiveness at all?’ she asked. ‘I have not forgiven you.”
“Then I will just continue to hold you.”
Lyra grunted, trying to break Curze’s embrace, though he was too strong. “What if we were attacked that evening? I would’ve been all alone, unable to survive for long.”
“I am sorry for that.”
“And our baby—”
Curze reached down and placed his hand over her abdomen. He sighed. “I acted selfishly.”
“You acted like an idiot.”
“I acted like I did not have other things to concern over.”
“Please, let me go now.”
“Have you forgiven me yet?”
“…Maybe a little.”
“So then you haven’t.”
“Alright, alright - I forgive you! Now let me go!”
Disclaimer : this one hung around in my drafts for too long, it's not finished, idk how to continue this one. damn you initially impulsive writing just to lose momentum like 3 seconds later aaaaaaAAAAAA-
Kydomor Forrix / Amaya Noh (OC)
You are part of me mine.
After the Lord of Iron had finally succumbed to the Lovesick Blight and the Legion had been deemed censored, former Triarch and current ruler of Olympia Kydomor Forrix and his brothers who held onto Perturabos Empire of Iron was free to reign over his father's territory as he pleased. The empire's population? Continents of statistical data points bleeding into each other. Why shouldn't he use them as farmers used grox? They were his, and he could do as he pleased with his inherited property. Societies as he saw them over the galaxy and the various ways in which people used one another were one in the same. So why should he waste any thought about the population's well-being? Why was the emotional state of one person, let alone a society's so important? He understood, but he didn't feel why. His ever graceful spouse would show him.
_________________________________________
The First Tyrant of Olympia was a fearsome thing, of unnaturally forged muscle and sinew. A grave reminder to all was how much their sons had to suffer for an Imperium that did not even grant them a single direct mention in the recently slain iterator's Imperial history books.
And he was purring. Slightly calloused hands rebraided the two longest strands of sand colored hair, his dear wife's own tightly curled hair as an extension she'd eventually bind to his scalp once done. Whatever the brutalist and naturalist architecture of various polished and unpolished stone, plants and funghi repurposed as small furniture and colorful cloth had been, it had faded into irrelevance. The cold of the artificial cave mound he made their home had been barely noticeable to him before, but now, only the hooded plush of her teal robe could register as any feeling of temperature that wasn't within. All the warmth came from within, but must have been her doing. It's been decades since they've first embraced, however to this very day the Tyrant could not understand how she made him feel a warmth he never could've hoped to feel.
"Now that you made us a home within the mountain you were researching-" said Amaya, halting everything and drawing her focus from his hair to his dreary eyes. He didn't respond. That was a good thing, as no trigger had been activated this time nor did he halt her in any other way. The incident where she criticized the Primarch in his presence should never repeat itself. "-will you finally be away for less time than you were before? Unlike you, I can only rejuvenate myself oh so often." His eyes evaded hers, and this time hers didn't follow.
"Currently, the antient stroikan archeo-tech needs to be sufficiently studied and purged of AI if need be." And also he couldn't let himself loose on her, for wouldn't he be so overbearing as to destroy her one day? She may desire more proximity to him, but that meant more instability within his geneseed-altered thought processes. But for now, he shall indulge himself in the embering warmth of her lean stature.
Before Amaya could ask any more questions that would stab at his yearning for her even more, he quickly grabbed her by the waist and slightly heaved her up on his way to the panoramic view the armaglass cave opening provided. All of Seinmos, his home, and even the nearest regions of Itherak just before the horizon were visible in breathtakingly small view. "Next time you could perhaps carry me like a babe, not a sack of yamay?" His hands turned to her stomach and collarbone, large fingers tracing every feature of hers. Her skin certainly has rejuvenated to that of a woman in her prime age, he noted for himself. "Aaron is the babe." said Forrix with the dryness of the mountains whilst gently pulling her towards him. "You however are..." The words wouldn't come. Words that could even remotely describe the ease he had in being able to hold on hold her, knowing with near certainty that within these mountains nothing would happen to her unnoticed, recieving her counsil on how to improve not a military, but a civilization were perverted beyond saving and he wouldn't dare to ever say that he loved her again. Perhaps redirecting his hiccup of a sentence to her general counsil would satisfy this endless need to wrap her up within his hearts and never let her go for a short while.
"...my wife." As flatly as Forrix spoke, calling her his wife had a possessive tint that at least did tend to the surface of his feelings towards her. "My wife." he repeated in a softer, more reverent tone.
"Well yes, this much is evident." chuckled Amaya, fully aware her husband would see her light mockery. In truth, he needn't say anything - even if she did not have the uncanny habit of prying into Forrix's mind every now and then, she'd need to be raised an orphan by all to miss the overt displays and more or less concerning diary entries he still regularly handed to her and so many more things.
"It annoys me to no end that language doesn't do my inner motives justice." Amaya knew better than to go on another philosophical debate with him around the word 'love' and instead let her mind speak into his just as her hand brushed against his. +angel+do not worry+i know+i know+ "And yet, it still pains me that I can't express them in a satisfying manner. You should be able to hear my affections, my ruminations, my contemplation of your influence on me from my mouth. It'd be as if you were just another human wandering far below us... or worse." Forrix pulled her closer and she felt her heart flutter and sink. After all these years, not much has changed in his fear of losing Amaya, of failing her as deeply as his father did with the Graphite Lady. Amaya remained silent, as she learned that constant affirmations and cheer ons had no effect on him. Neither did distance - he'd seen her avoidance of him as a sign that he had done something terrible to her (which he objectively did, albeit with benevolent intentions). And so, with no way out, the only thing they could do was to open themselves up to one another. Still, this diffuse somberness hung around Forrix. And the only way through this fog of internal misery was by talking.
"Well, what do you think about just the other humans below our feet?" Forrix blinked which Amaya saw at the faint reflection of automaton-polished armaglass. This too, was a good sign, for he would not sink into the depths of his own mind this day. He shall know no fear, but he was being brave in a way only she could ever witness. "Numbers." Forrix sighed, eyes no longer the relaxed gaze but rather a keen stare downwards, to the valley that had birthed him. "Their consumnation habits. The delays in logistics not directly controlled by me or my brothers. The hubris they call confidence. Their complete wastage of the free time granted to them. The ever-enduring hedonism from which they needlessly die in their droves." She laid a finger on her lips humming in questive suggestion, all too aware that he'll at least be glancing down at her.
"All negative traits." She half wished to tickle or poke him somewhere, but he wouldn't take that kind of teasing well. And besides, it would obfuscate her intentions, which would drive him even further from her. "All traits and behaviors which should be corrected..." Forrix barely had the sense to let his hand off her collarbone to grip the air around in built up frustration. "And yet here I am, your counsel for when you cannot fathom the concept of individuality driving the people towards making their own faulty decisions." Forrix rolled his eyes. "This whole planet would get hardened to fighting strength if it weren't for you. It is your insistence of the less tangible human qualities that keep me from reforming every last of them in the Thorakite's image." A compliment veiled in implicit accusation, thought Amaya, unconsciously straightening her back and moving her shoulders up as her smile turned into a sly grin. Would Desta ever have believed her if she said that with his death and her remarrying to the implicit perpetrator, she was able to save millions from the Iron Warriors deadly need for supremacy and absolute order?
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The need to get held and cuddled with tightly by some jacked up ultratall guy who's been treated as a tool his whole life making cute noises when I cuddle him back >>>>>>
And be told on how needed I am in his perspective for existing hAH
It might just be me but more and more time goes on my favorite Chaos god Slaanesh is getting more and more censorship, hell Slaanesh is all most out the story in Age of Sigmar. But i play a Slaanesh Chaos Space Marine/Daemon army, and more and more i see more models and box sets for Krone or Nurgle and some times Tzeentch.
I’ve been told and seen a lot of this “censorship” or not much really big about poor old Slaanesh is because people are offended about sex or his taste in drug ect ect....Hang on wait a moment.....So the mass murder, war, rape, genocide, gore ect [GRIM DARKNESS OF THE 41kM] is ok... But we got to call stops at Slaanesh because sex......
Slaanesh is the Chaos god of lust, greed, excess, pain, pleasure, perfection and hedonism. And just because he/she is to do with a bit of lust it seems people lose there mind...... sorry but last time i look it said 12+ on the boxes of warhammer models, if you buy you child ect a game(Warhammer hobby) that is about War and Death ect hate to tell you there is going to be stuff that not age appropriate for even 12 year olds....
With even more rumors which I hope stay rumors is that they want to rip him for good. As you know Slannesh never played a bit part in anything in the fluff.......
List of things Slaanesh did or his followers did:
Created the Eye of Terror (Due to those naughty Elder)
Slew most of the Eldar
Slew most of the Eldar gods
A deamon Slaaneshi sword turn Fulgrim Primarch of the Emperor’s Childen to Chaos (well help any ways)
Lead to him then Killing the Primarch of the Iron hands Ferrus Manus
Beat up the Smuffs Primarch Roboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines
Slannesh also turned the Knight house hold House Devine to Chaos (Imperial Knights)
Ect ect
So to sum it all down my point is how about you stop looking at the fact that Slaanesh is about lust and drugs and talk about Slaanesh other points that 30k/40k and In Fantasy Like i don’t know Greed, pain perfection hedonism but no the world is hell bent of making us all forget that sex is REAL AND HAPPENS 24/7 ON THIS PLANET.
Or you know maybe just hint that Slaanesh gets in to big orgy and drug raged party and focus on how cool the lore and role he played in the 40K and 30K world -___- rant over
P.S this is all my opinion don’t take it as im hating on them for doing so just it makes Slaanesh sad and i don't want to be made to dance forever! <- link to what i mean.
