[hr][b]+++Classification [i]Vermillion[/i]... Granted...+++ +++Intenal Vox Thief Transcript: ******-**-******-*********...+++ +++Circa 001.M31...+++ +++Locale: Nikaea, Council Grounds...+++ +++Records herein sealed by order of The Sigillite...+++ +++Interning Authority... Captain-General Constantin Valdor... Subvault *********-******-********-**-*-*****...+++[/b] [i]“Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.” - Assigned to a pre-M1 Terran remembrancer, identity unknown.[/i][hr] Parties had never suited Nelchitl, the idea of entertaining nobles, generals, and merchants felt beneath the skills that the Emperor had given her, a waste of her innate talents. So she had avoided the party like the Bonic Plague of old. Sequestered herself away in her own private chambers as she poured over reports from Tempestus and her daughters in other far-flung corners of the Crusade. But she could only keep herself still for so long, could only read endless scrolling data points and reports so many times before she became restless. So she found herself walking the halls of the council building. She’d left her entourage behind, a nod of authority keeping even her honor guard in their places as she had left her rooms in a black body glove and a flutter of the black cloak she wrapped around herself. Though she knew she was tricking no one with her disguise, she felt that at least acting like she did not wish to be noticed would keep the most mundane of the remembrancers and other dignitaries from approaching her. She stalked the halls, her path taking her quietly toward the location of the party that had been the talk of practically every mortal in the building since its announcement. Electing to bypass the grand entrance she worked her way around the edges of the hall, avoiding groups of servers and guards as she looked for a more obscure entrance to get a look at what was happening within. As she came around a group of exhausted looking servers beneath the shadow of a large arch she spotted her entrance. A simple portal that servers came and went from like clockwork. She ducked from beneath the arch, drawing gasps and excited chatter as the form of a Primarch seemed to practically materialize in front of the mortals, and made her way to the door quickly. She stepped into a kitchen busy with activity that almost immediately ceased, only the most engrossed of the chefs in their tasks continuing to go about their cooking and preparations for a heartbeat longer than the rest as Nelchitl entered into their midst. “Continue your work.” She commanded quietly before starting to pick her way between the stunned cooks to the exit on the other side of the kitchen. Just before the disguised figure could open the kitchen exit, the door opened. Arnulf Wode stepped through the door, his uniform jacket half off, his field cap hanging off his head at a jaunty angle. He looked tired, he looked worn out, he looked ready to collapse and sleep. “Don’t stop for me, continue workin’.” He said to the staff, then stopped when he saw the robed figure. He woke up immediately, hand flying to the bolt pistol holstered at his hip. The robed figure was tall, around nine feet, so that meant Astartes, but why they were sneaking around the servant entrances with their identity concealed was beyond him. “Identify yourself.” He growled, “If you’re a legionary, you got no business bein’ here. Turn around and I won’t take your name.” Nelchitl stopped in her tracks at the sight of Wode, a small grin creeping across her lips beneath the hood as she leaned back calmly. “Or what Brother? You’ll get your ass beat again?” she teased, her hands rising to lower her hood and reveal the grin beneath. “Though I have to say, I’m a little upset you thought me an Astartes.” she feigned hurt as she waved an enthralled cook back to his obviously burning food. Wode’s posture turned from half-crouch to a standing slouch, his face a nonplussed grimace. He buckled the flap of his holster, securing the ivory-handled bolt pistol in its place once again. “Ha ha. You scared the shit out of me, Nel.” He said, “What are you trying to do, exactly? Sneak -into- the party? Dressed like that? And you don’t think Sekh wouldn’t have known you were coming through this way anyways? You know how the servants blabber.” He looked around to the staff gawking in awe at their stations, making a token effort to work but clearly enthralled by the conversation taking place. “...No offense.” “I tend to have that effect on people.” Nelchitl replied with a shrug. She glanced over the surrounding staff, a small part of her offended that they were dallying in their duties, but the rest of her understanding just what it was they were audience to. She lifted her cloak slightly with both hands, the body glove beneath showing through the part at its center as she sighed, “I just didn’t want to be bothered, and I’d hoped to go unnoticed though,” she gestured to the cooks still entranced around them, “it was never going to work.” she admitted with a laugh. “And you?” she raised an eyebrow as her grin grew, “What are [i]you[/i], Primarch of the Tenth doing leaving through the kitchens?” she ghosted in close to Wode, a predatory glint in her eyes as she moved around him, a finger tracing the cut of his shoulders as she did, “Surely you couldn’t be trying to escape unnoticed,” she tugged at his ceremonial dress, “in such clothes of all things?” “A bodyglove to a formal dinner?” Wode retorted, his voice a half-chuckle. “That is…” He seemed to cut off, as if consciously avoiding saying something crass. This was, in fact, exactly what he was doing, as the second half of the sentence would’ve been, ‘..decidedly feral world of you.’ He playfully shrugged Nel’s hand from his uniform, straightening out the miniscule crease she’d created with a single, smart tug. “In any case, it’s not like I’m going to strip naked on the dance floor and stride out in my birthday suit.” He bulldozed over his clumsy pause. “It’s the dress khakis of the Pact. It’s -designed- for occasions like this. And as for why I’m leaving, it’s because parties wear me out faster in an hour than a week of cross-country in a Predator. I can’t imagine you’re much more fond of them than I. I didn’t expect to see you at all.” “Sekhmetara would say it’s accentuating.” she teased, raising her cloak to reveal the form fitting view to Wode and several of the human cooks. “And stripping naked surely wouldn’t be the most stunning thing that has happened in that room tonight, of that I am sure with who I’ve been told is in attendance.” she added quietly just for Wode. She reached down into a pot of some exotic sauce and took a bit on her finger, the cook at the station shrinking away from her reach as she did, “I’m sure I could tire you out much faster than that,” she said almost as an afterthought as she brought her finger up to taste the sauce, “and I can’t say I wasn’t curious of what was happening within. Things like this, they’re a once in a several lifetime event, though we don’t have that issue really.” she admitted before placing an approving pat on the cook beneath her who stumbled forward at the force of the Primarch’s hand. Wode didn’t look away as she lifted her robes, and the view was nice, but, he wasn’t sure what to say. Nel was pretty, but, they were siblings, weren’t they? Even still he barely knew her, and they didn’t really look alike - she had the tanned skin, the lithe build of an equatorial native, and he looked like a squat, pale-skinned, blond-haired wall of a man. Were they related? Was he overthinking? Almost certainly. He snapped back in to focus just to catch the second half of the flirt - and it was a flirt, he was certain - which made him produce a noise that was a half cough, half grunt of surprise. Again, the back foot, always the back foot with her. Push on, that was the Pact way, he thought. He liked her attention, but, he had no idea how to respond to advances from her. “...I suppose we don’t, though I still really don’t think of myself as some… immortal demigod. I wasn’t, until Father came to get me. I mean, I guess I was but… I didn’t know, you know?” He seemed morose at that. The prospect of outliving everyone he knew was a thought he always came back to, and it always made him feel the same way. Her brow furrowed in concentration for a moment before she spoke, her tone light with an understanding of what Wode was feeling, “You and I, we were found so recently,” she paused as she regarded the cooks once more before continuing her thoughts, “It can be hard to take it all in.” she agreed before motioning for Wode to follow her, “Though such talk is best done where the mortals can’t hear us.” she turned to give a smile to the closest cook, “The sauce was outstanding.” she added as she lifted the comparatively small man from his feet and placed a tiny kiss on his cheek, “And no one will ever believe you.” she finished as she placed him back on his feet. Walking from the kitchen she led Wode on through the shadows of the halls once more. He bowed for the menials and kitchen staff. One line cook was present enough mentally to whistle at the primarch, and then the others broke into a ragged cheer. The master of the 10th, for his part, simply shook his head and stalked after his sister. “Where did you have in mind?” Wode asked, walking behind her. “...It’s not another duel, is it? Warn me if you’re gonna start throwing sword cuts again.” Nelchitl laughed at Wode’s concern, the sound of it nearly cutting through the shadows around them as she turned down another hall, “Nothing so bad.” she assured him, “I figured we could talk this time, like normal… Primarchs?” she shrugged as they arrived at an empty room adorned with only a simple table for meetings of far less important individuals than them. Taking up a seat on the table itself she turned to Wode, her eyes alight with curiosity as she regarded him, “You were found mere minutes before me as far as I’m concerned, and maybe I take our [i]situation[/i]...” she refrained from the word ‘divinity’, “better than you. But I too have found it hard to adjust at times.” With a sigh she shrugged the cloak from her shoulders, letting it fall around the table at her hips, “Life was simpler once, that is for sure.” she admitted, “But now He is here to guide me. To guide us.” she finished with a conviction bordering on fanaticism. Wode sat down in a chair, flipping it around to sit with his chest to the backrest. He looked up at Nelchitl as he spoke. “Normal Primarchs. Not sure if a thing like that exists, but sure.” If she stared with curiosity, he looked at her with a… hard to describe expression. He seemed at once eager to speak with one of his peers at depth, but, strangely guarded. Equals had been a rarity for him even before he had been elevated as he was. “He is here indeed.” He said as she finished. “I think about him a lot. He’s… not like anything I’ve ever seen before. To be frank, you aren’t either…” That’d have to do as a counter-flirt, but it was weak, and he grimaced internally as he said it. “...but he’s somethin’ else. Do you really think he’s a… y’know?” The last unspoken word being, of course, ‘god’. It wasn’t politic to say such things in Imperial society, but with just them, he figured he could broach the topic. Her brown eyes studied her sibling as he spoke, the depths of them appearing to stare far deeper into him than should be possible. Her head tilted at the implication of his question, the ghost of a sneer almost seeming to grow across her lips before she stood suddenly, knocking over one of the small chairs around her in the process. She paced away from Wode, a hand reaching down to run along the tabletop as she came to halt some ways away from him. “What you imply is dangerous,” she spoke quietly, eyeing the walls of the room for any obvious devices that might catch what she said next. For a moment she thought the better of it as her wish that she had worn her armor to scan for eavesdroppers consumed her mind, but the moment passed quickly as her faith overwhelmed her. “The Emperor is a God? Is that what you mean?” the Emerald Priestess turned to face Wode, beaming as she spoke, “Of course it’s what you mean. That you have noticed it too…” she moved back to Wode, stopping just steps from him, “It fills me with joy beyond measure to know I am not alone.” she confided in him as she took up a kneeling spot before him. “When did you know?” she asked, her voice a whisper. Wode looked back, unflinching. Her gaze was piercing, but he was steadfast in all things, even an examination of his very soul. What was there, was there, and he wouldn’t change it for anyone. She knelt before him, and even as she spoke, he never broke eye contact. “He creates.” Wode said, simply. “He punishes. He guides. And he knows.” He reached underneath his collar, pulling forth a small, silver chain. On it was the Catheric cross, the faith of the old days, the dark times. “This is from Salient. I never really believed, but, we all had to… pretend. At least in the merchant house I served. Years of war, I didn’t believe anything like a god existed anywhere, and then…” He tucked the cross back under his shirt. “And then Father came, and I learned I was one of his angels. Not one of the compassionate ones, either, I’m one of the ones with a sword of light and wings of fire. What else makes sense? Are we seriously even going to consider that he’s just… what? A man? Like I thought I was?” He shook his head. “No. No no no. It doesn’t make sense.” Her eyes followed Wode’s hand as he pulled out a small symbol of some faith she wasn’t familiar with, though the implication that it now held their Father as its patron was obvious from the reverence he handled it with. “You and I, Wode, are so very similar.” she spoke quietly, her own hands moving to unzip the front of her body glove. Pulling it down she exposed the brand between her chest. A simple thing, burned into her skin, what felt like an eternity ago on Ixhun. A depiction of the sun in all its glory, rays spreading across her chest in spirals. “It never healed,” she began as she closed her glove once more, “burned into me by the Priests of Ixhun, focus mirrors took His light and etched this forever into me.” she touched her chest with reverence before bringing her gaze back to Wode. “His power has kept it there, for all these years. I bleed from foul xenos blades, rend flesh from the sting of their weapons, and it all heals. Yet this icon has remained.” she stated in awe as she clutched at it. “To bring about His vision is our purpose, however that must be done.” she shook her head and motioned vaguely back in the direction of the party, “Sekhmetara, Daena, and the others, they are fine instruments. Worked from silver and gold to carry out His most delicate of plans, the diplomacy, and empire-building that He so requires. But us Wode,” she rose, taking his hand as she did bringing him to his feet with her, a smooth kick of her leg removing the chair from between them as she ushered him up. “We were wrought from iron Brother. From steel and blood. We bring about His vision when the finer instruments are useless. I hold that we are the most necessary, despite what you may think. For what our other siblings see as needless slaughter or wasteful expense… We see as necessity.” she smiled, faith burning in her eyes, “His will is always necessary, no matter what the others may seem to think of how it is achieved.” Although he didn’t touch it, Wode could feel only warmth from Nel’s brand, as if there was a sun inside of her, radiating heat from her marred skin. She was right. They were similar, despite their appearances, two blades forged from the same alloy, even the same chunk of ore. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Something in him calmed as she spoke. He felt right, for the first time since he’d left Salient. When she picked him up, he’d let her, and he’d opened his eyes to hers, icy blue meeting warm brown. Fire burned in hers, and in his, ice. She smiled, and he did as well. “In the far future…” He said, his voice soft, “There is only war. And without us, we’d all have to be warriors. Humanity would never paint another picture, never write another song, never cradle another child. Drowned in blood and the laughter of thirsting gods.” He grabbed her biceps, firm, and pressed his forehead to hers, just like when they’d dueled in that training room. “We cannot let that happen. We -must- give humanity the stars.” “No other Gods, only monsters.” she insisted as Wode came in close, a brief thought of Isabis’ dire warning startling her as it flashed through her mind, a hint of unexpected panic filling her eyes for the briefest of seconds, “Monsters we will remove.” She brought her head back from his, a smile still gracing her features, “And Humanity will have them. Of that I am certain, because [i]He[/i] is certain of it.” she brought an arm up, if not somewhat awkwardly as Wode held onto her, and cupped the side of Wode’s gnarled face, “You and I, and those we can trust with such confidence,” her smile shortened slightly, a serious edge creeping into her voice as she spoke, “will ensure that outcome.” He let go of her, stepping back and nodding his head. He was trying to calm a fire in his chest that wouldn’t go out, and standing that close to the Emerald Priestess wasn’t helping. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad. I’m glad I’m…” He tilted his head up, chin held high. “Not alone. I won’t say anything of what we spoke of here, of course. That’s secret.” “He would never allow us to wallow alone with such heavy knowledge as ours.” she affirmed to Wode with a smile, the faithful Emerald Priestess once more returned as she replied, “A secret that will one day become fact. This meeting, and our beliefs, will one day roam the Imperium, Wode. They will move humanity to the greatest heights achievable. One day, not far from now, we shall give them the stars, and a God will come with them.” her voice was filled with emotion as she motioned to to the sky above, some unseen mechanism of internal timers lighting an array of lights in the wall behind her as the council building’s chronometers struck some predetermined twilight hour. Tears struck him then. Emotion welled up within him as he witnessed her faith, pure and true. They ran down his face, tracing the scars and crags before dropping onto his uniform or the floor, some baptism of this space, rivulets of water from a melting iceberg. This visage, stoic, but moved, would be immortalized thousands of years from now, the Sun Priestess on the right, The Saint of Men on the left, their names even forgotten on some worlds, but for now, it was two siblings, two humans, two angels making a solemn promise to one another, free of guile or machination.