[u][b]Rage Can Be Necessary[/b][/u][hr]Captain Mayalen stood resplendent in her armor, the proud markings of the Second Company emblazoned upon her breastplate and worn in tandem with the solemn banners of mourning for all those she had lost on Arel, nearly two-fifths of her entire company. Before her were the vaulted doors to her Primarch’s private chamber and beyond it, her Scion raged. Mayalen winced as the sound of objects of near priceless value were smashed to dust and the stateroom beyond was turned into debris, all the while her Primarch screaming in the native tongue of Ixhun, though Mayalen had the sense not to listen to what was being said. 

She had been at the embarkation deck when her Primarch had made her unexpected return from the Council’s deliberations for the day and rarely had she seen Nelchitl so incensed at her own allies; her own kin. Her Scion had stormed off the lander in silence, moving past the assembled honor guard with not so much as a glance in their direction. The Second Captain had sensed the deep hurt in those Serpents that had been chosen to welcome Nelchitl back to the [i]Solstice’s End[/i]. She’d seen it in the way they held their bolters once their Scion had disappeared beyond the blast doors, in how they had walked in silence back to their arming chambers, and when they had looked upon her; their Captain; for reassurance. She had offered them each firm words of their worth, assurances that they would never have been picked were they not worth the notice of their esteemed Scion, and though today she had not taken notice of them, next time would be different.

With words that barely did justice to mend the pride of her juniors, Mayalen had made to follow Nelchitl, and had been shocked to find it nearly impossible not to know where she had gone. She had followed a trail of broken servitors and chattering Techpriests, offering the sign of the aquila and a few words of apologies to the hooded adepts as she followed the trail of holy oils and mechanical components of their destroyed machines all the way back to her Primarch’s private chambers.

Here she had stood for nearing four hours, Nelchitl’s destruction on the other side of the doors unceasing. A particularly large crash resounded from beyond the doors, the impact of whatever it was Nelchitl had destroyed reverberating through the bulkhead beneath the Second Captains’ feet and through her dampened armor.

“Is this a bad time?” came the voice of Sofia di Fabrizio from her right, Mayalen shifted slightly as she found her superhuman senses caught off guard, so lost in thought at the enraged actions of Nelchitl as she was that the Mistress of the Fleet had practically gotten on top of the Astartes. The woman stood several heads shorter than Mayalen but what she lacked in stature she made up for in sheer presence. The Mistress; a mortal; demanded respect with every word she spoke and in the very way she moved. The navy ratings joked that their Mistress had managed to tame Nelchitl, though the Serpents knew it was very much the other way around. Mayalen had long held her in high regard, her tactical and strategic knowledge in the void was immense, her ability in oratory cunning, and her skills with a blade and the artificer laspistol she kept at her waist put some of the most seasoned Auxilia to shame.

The Astartes frowned down at the Fleet Mistress as she spoke, “I’m afraid it’s certainly not the best. Mistress I’m sure you’re more in tune with the happenings at the Council than I or any of my Sisters ever could be, I pray that you know what has incensed our Lady so terribly.”

The Mistress folded her arms and took a spot leaning along the bulkhead, her gaze barely rising to meet the Astartes in front of her, “I have much to attend to for the fleet alone, and Magos Decius is throwing a fit on my bridge, going on and on about servitors and damage notices.” she waved a hand dismissively, “Do you truly think I have the time to follow the proceedings from planetside as I deal with the Martians and arrange for everything we require to move on from this Council?”

Mayalen felt her frown turning into a small smile as she watched the grin on the Mistress’s face grow, “Of course I do Mistress, who else but you could do all that and still have the time to listen in on the Council?” the Second Captain stated matter-of-factly.

“And your faith is well placed.” the mortal confirmed with a nod, “Our Primarch got into it with that [i]culo[/i] the Tartarean. About what exactly I’m not positive, though I understand that it got heated. Not to mention that this was all in front of [i]Him[/i]. If I had to guess I’d say she’s just as embarrassed as she is pissed in there.”

Mayalen shifted uncomfortably in her power armor, “I should have guessed as much. The Primarch of the Abyssal Lurkers has always been… divisive for lack of a better word.”

“He’s a bastard is what he is.” the Mistress stated flatly, “Though, I didn’t come here to chat about the gossip from planetside, as interesting as that may be. I have news that will only further worsen our Primarch’s mood.” she slipped a datapad from her belt and handed it to Mayalen.

The Captain consumed the data in mere moments and handed the dataslate back as she shook her head, “If only this could wait for her to calm herself.”

“Were it so easy.” the Mistress stated as she turned and pressed her command signet into the locking mechanism of the door. With a hiss the locks disengaged and the door moaned as it strained to open.

“You can stand behind me if it makes you feel any safer, Mistress.” Mayalen offered as the doors screeched open, so bent and deformed were they that the mechanisms began to sputter sparks into the hallway as they worked. Smoke began to roll out of the room beyond as the doors continued their agonizing opening, and water ran around their feet from some unseen source beyond them.

Mistress Fabrizio laughed at the offer and crossed her arms defiantly, “If the Priestess wants me dead for this news, there is not much a single Astartes can do to stop her,” she stood side by side with the Captain of the Second, “I’ll take my chance here.”

Mayalen smiled warmly at the mortal, her respect for the woman growing evermore as one of the doors came to a grinding halt before it could fully open. The two slipped through the narrow opening between the broken doors and stepped into a very different environment from what they had left on the other side.

Smoke filled the room, fed by a number of small electrical fires that licked at smashed furniture and torn draperies around the chamber. The chamber itself lay in ruin, anything that hadn’t been bolted to the deck was in pieces about the room, red warning lights flashed, overhead lights flickered and sparked in their mounts, and the low thrum of exposed power cables filled the room. 

Mayalen moved her gaze about the room and took in the destruction that Nelchitl had managed with awe. Pipes hung from the ceiling, spouting water and less than healthy alternatives into the chamber, and at the far end of the room stood the cause of it all.

The Emerald Priestess was facing away from them. Stood before a massive mosaic of the Emperor, her hands outstretched at her sides and her head thrown back in forlorn disgust. Mayalen heard the Fleet Mistress gasp as her own eyes fell upon what had surprised the mortal so.

A vast scar had been torn through the image, giving the ghastly image of the Emperor cut open from hip to shoulder. By some cruel coincidence of the ancient ship’s design, the wound wept a deep red hydraulic fluid as if the Emperor himself was bleeding before them.

“My Lady.” Captain Mayalen spoke, biting back the hesitation in her voice as she continued, “We bring news.” She dropped to a knee and gently pulled the stunned Mistress Fabrizio down as well. She dared not bring her gaze up as she felt the scrutiny of the Emerald Priestess fall on her.

“Speak then, or be gone.” the Primarch spoke, her tone sending icicles into the mind of the Captain of the Second. She winced in pain at them and quickly composed herself as she kept her head low, “The Obscurus Rebellion has--”

“[i]Obscurus Rebellion[/i]!?” Nelchitl cut off her Captain as she struck a colonnade with such force that it shattered and fell into the chamber, “OUT.” Nelchitl raged, her voice so sudden and laden with command that Mistress Fabrizio dropped the dataslate she had been holding and practically sprinted from the room. Mayalen, though Astartes, strained not to drop her helmet as she too rose and hurried from the chamber.

Mayalen turned to watch her Primarch as she once more began to rage in her chambers. Arcing electricity somewhere in the room cast long shadows through the growing smoke and the Second Captain could have sworn that she caught a glimpse of something terrible and unknowable through the glowing red smoke just before the doors shut.

“That went well.” Mistress Fabrizio stated meekly as her breath came in ragged gasps. The color in the proud admiral's face had all but gone as she steadied herself against the wall.

“We are alive.” Mayalen agreed, her enhanced metabolism flooded with combat stims from the autosensors of her armor as she reconciled with an emotion she hadn’t felt since before her ascension to Astartes. Fear.