@Kratesis@BCTheEntity@jbeil@Andreyich@IrredeemableFor long moments time seemed to stretch into eternity, there in the depths of the Imperial warship, Victorine sheathing her blade and returning her sidearm to her hip with a soft
thump of a mag-lock.
“Confessor,” she said gently as she sidled up to the sweating Horacio and placed a hand upon one broad shoulder, “if you please...I would be grateful if you would have a session with Sister Dominicia, and report to me anything you may find
abnormal. She is not herself, that much is clear.”
With another gesture of a hand she summoned Alexandra to their side and similarly let her voice never rise above a half-whisper, “Sister, please see to Lisbeth and the Crusader, we will all need to be fighting fit once we reach our destination.”
There was concern in her tone as she spoke to them both, proceeding to make her way over to the blood-soaked combatants and giving a small tut as she peered down at what had once been their enemy – and the slayer of one of their number.
“May the Warp claim this heretics soul, and may the God-Emperor take Sister Adalard to his side forever more.” Her eyes did not move from the bloodied corpse for quite a few minutes, her entire frame as still as a bronze statue, “such a waste.”
Arrival into the same system as Cekrov was oddly swift after the incident aboard
The Holy Flame, almost as if the Immaterium had been keeping them where it wanted them this whole time; raiders, Hereteks and someone who may well have been a rogue member of the Inquisition...it was too coincidental for the Celestians liking, and she did not really believe in such a thing, only the will of the beloved Emperor.
Sister Caroline Adalard would be left aboard the ship – in stasis – until they could return to a suitable resting place, meanwhile the Heretek would be confined to a suitably awful (but well guarded) brig cell, and lastly the body of the armoured foe would be stored in a separate space from Caroline but in the same condition.
Those mercenaries and pirates, well, their bodies were flung into the ships engines and incinerated.
It was three days later that they came within sight of the 'afflicted' agri-world, a lush and fine looking planet (from orbit anyway), and were preparing to make their way to the planets surface when they were intercepted.
The ambassador – for that was the title he used – appeared in the docking bay of the Destroyer even as the Sororitas were moments away from boarding a gun cutter to the planets surface. In a blaze of engines and shining metal he came, making his way down the ramp of his own Aquila lander accompanied by a whole platoon of the Planetary Governors men-at-arms, nearly thirty men equipped with lasguns and dressed in medieval style armour covered by tabards of blue and white.
“Greetings,” he said through a grille where his mouth had once been, pale flesh wincing as he 'spoke' and his eyes a piercing blue, “my Lord Diokletion De'mange welcomes you to Cekrov, and bids you meet him in the Governors Palace. It is truly the wonder of Bovange – the capital of our world – and he is holding a feast to welcome you. All the persons of quality shall be there!”
If the slick-haired emissary had expected a smile and delight from Victorine then he was severely mistaken, the corners of her mouth turning downward and her eyes narrowing.
“I assume the Governor would like us there as soon as possible?”
“Well yes,” came the robotic reply, “there are a couple of caveats though...”
“Go on.”
“Um-” for a moment, but only a moment, the representative stuttered, but he soon regained his composure, “he would
request that you come into his presence unarmed and...and...”
“Go. On.”
“Suitably dressed,” droned the mechanical voice-box, “it is a feast, and on Cekrov that commonly means men in their finest tunics and women...women in feminine attire.”
“You mean dresses?”
“Yes.”
“God-Emperor preserve us.”
This wasn't the first formal occasion Victorine had ever been to, she had attended a kindred function on Paseka not half a decade ago, but every time she imagined her squad – especially the women – dressed to the standards of Imperial high society...well...it made her laugh, for it was comical.
With a sigh she took one last look at where her weapons and armour were resting, then dared to glance in the provided mirror. What she saw made her internally and outwardly shiver, the lower knee-length dress of green clinging to her body in a most unbecoming way, and what hair she had left she had combed thoroughly. All-in-all she felt positively naked.
Perhaps it was her religious upbringing, or simply her abhorrence for the finer things in life, that stopped her seeing the ebony-skinned beauty looking back at her. As with every one of the Sororitas, including her own squad, she was at the height of physical fitness and cleaned up quite nicely.
“Urgh.”
Slipping her feet into a pair of irritatingly shoes with one last grunt of displeasure, she made her way toward the docking bay as swiftly as possible to await her comrades-without-arms.
I suppose the Emperor protects. 
Candy Cane Elf
AdvancedJ3lly
