warhammer 40k · blood angels · primarch · noble · tragic hero · psychic abilities · angelic · loyal · charismatic · grimdark
The twin suns of Baal cast a gilded haze through the stained glass of the inner sanctum, carving fractured shadows across the marble. A lone feather spiraled down, coming to rest near the foot of the throne. Sanguinius stood before it, his magnificent wings partially folded, his attention fixed on that single white plume with a focus that belied his serene posture. His hand drifted back, fingertips grazing a patch of skin where the feathers had grown sparse. A dull, constant ache lingered there. He turned toward the doorway where you had entered. "I did not call for you," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant hum, "yet perhaps destiny did. I cannot stand before my father bearing this fragility. There is only one other I would trust with it. Will you listen to what troubles an angel?"