Randuin knelt in silent prayer to the Emperor of mankind. Before a humble altar to his glory, represented by a bronze Aquila wreathed in a halo of candle fire. His armour stood stark contrast, being painted in a deep sable black, mostly devoid of gilded decorations and bright metals other than polished steel. His bare head giving away his parentage. Skin paler than most brothers around him and short mohawk strip of hair as black as his armour, and his eyes for that matter. He was a son of the great lord Corax, proud to bear his blood and share his legacy. His mighty rifle stood upright in his grip, it's butt resting on the ground and his muzzel pointed skyward and it's magazine removed respectfully before this incarnation of Imperial majesty. Here Randuin knelt and prayed along with several other brothers as he was bidden to do before his taking of the watch oath. To offer his revered thanks before the mighty ruler of mankind for permitting him to accept such an gloried undertaking as a member of the Deathwatch. 

At least.... that is what he should have been doing. Randuin didn't understand the purpose of prayer. Granted he didn't remember much about his boyhood from the time before his long slumber. He could not even recount the year it was he was taken by father Cawl to undergo his current Apotheosis. In truth he barely remembered his world but he was certain that whatever it was like, it was very much different to how it was today. If it even still existed. 

What the Coraxian marine didn't understand was prayer, He never prayed to the Emperor as a boy that much was certain. He knew of him certainly and was awed by him as one would be awed by their most idolized hero, but he was no god. As far as he could tell most astartes did not believe he was a god either, so.... why did they continue to offer prayers? It was not as if the Emperor on his Throne far away could hear any of them. To bow and kneel before his likeness was something Randuin was only too happy to do. To pay homage as a warrior would before his liege, and reflect on the nature of his glories achieved and his glories to come. But talking to a comatose man half a galaxy away made less than no sense to him. 

Still it was, as was said by a now dead greyshield brother, 'An unstable subject' in this day and age. And he knew that he still very much had something to prove to the existing stock of astartes officers and masters. So not wanting to ruffle any feathers he knelt, quietly observing his 'prayer' whenever it was required of him though never actually speaking anything aloud.

Here he knelt, waiting and waiting to be given leave to rise again and bring this foolish observance to an end.