Watching the suits of armor of his new brethren receiving their fresh coat of black paint reminded Sorrow of his own initiation, merely a few days ago -- a rather more solitary affair than this group event. The assignment of veterans to the newly inducted as instructors and guides reminded him, once again, of his loss, especially when Astartes from similar or related Chapters were coupled together. While he awaited one such adviser of his own, none came, and Sorrow found himself feeling even more alienated when he followed Captain Roa within the corridors of the fortress, away from his brothers. 

There was a pregnant silence in the air after Roa's question. After a few seconds, Sorrow raised his hands and removed his own helmet, revealing the horrifically burned wreck of his face. The bone of his lower jaw was exposed to the air in some places, all the flesh having been seared away, and much of the rest of his face was covered in thick scar tissue that bloated and disfigured his features. Set deep within the twisted mass of his face were Sorrow's eyes, colored a pale shade of gray that was reminiscent of a snowstorm, and the conflicted emotions the Astartes felt were plain to read in them. 

"When I arrived to this fortress, the Master of the Vigil heard my tale and accepted me into the fold of the Deathwatch. I was allowed to shed myself of my origins and to renounce my Chapter once and for all. I would like it to stay that way, sir. The Emperor has my undying loyalty and devotion and I shall strive to rid the galaxy of his foes until the end of my days. Is that not what matters most?" Sorrow responded in the same penetrating whisper as before.