(no subject)
Fulgrim twitched lightly from where he sat on bed, at the knock on the door of his chambers in Sanguinius’ manor, “A-ah, come in?” he responded a trifle uncertainly.
Said door swung open to admit the imposing flaming-haired figure of his brother, Magnus, who paused for a moment looking unusually awkward, before he strode forward and drew Fulgrim into a rough embrace.
“I am glad you are back with us, brother,” he uttered gruffly after a few bewildering moments as he released Fulgrim.
“You’re…welcome?” Fulgrim answered still uncertain.
The one-eyed Primarch gave him a penetrating look in response, noting the bags under Fulgrim’s eyes and haunted gaze, before nodding firmly, “I have somebody I would you like to meet, if you wish?” he queried.
His pale brother blinked in mounting confusion, “…Yes?”
Magnus turned his head marginally toward the door, “Amunet,” he requested, as the bolt in the door ‘clinked’ as the handle was turned and the door push gently open, letting a second red haired figure that Fulgrim stared at, his mouth open in surprise.
Dusky lips quirked up into a crooked smile as intensely familiar violet eyes twinkled, “Hello, Uncle.”
Fulgrim continued to stare, apparently struck dumb at Amunet’s non sequitur, she then turned to her father and noted mildly, “I think we just made his brain fall out.”
Magnus restrained an exasperated sigh, “No, I believe it was mostly you,” he returned dryly earning a pouty look from his daughter. He looked back at still perplexed Fulgrim, “Yes?” he prompted.
Fulgrim blinked and gathered himself, “I, ah, didn’t expect you and Ira to have children?” he offered.
Magnus coughed sheepishly, “Ira and I did take a while to settle down,” while Amunet sniggered in the background.
“Don’t laugh at your father,” he chided automatically mid-sentence, to which Amunet only rolled her eyes, “… The last two centuries notwithstanding,” he continued grimly and Amunet stopped, sobering quickly, “so we both decided it was best to delay until the bulk of it was over, as did Tekhne and Perturabo.”
Fulgrim nodded the haunted look in his eyes deepening, causing a frown to shape on Amunet’s face.
“It’s over now,” she stated firmly, “you just need to get better, with our help,” she smiled with bright confidence.
This statement earned a startled, and almost shy look from the silver haired Primarch.
Magnus nodded approvingly, “As my daughter says,” that appellation is full of pride, making said daughter blush faintly, “We will do all we can to help you to recover, and she as offered to aid you in the place of that…medication,” his mouth flattened at that word, “She is skilled in soothing mental pain in others.”
“I-if she wants to,” answered Fulgrim though it was tainted with worry at what was laying in wait in his mind.
Amunet flicked his forehead, making him twitch and lift his hand to his head, “Silly Uncle,” her eyes glittered mischievously, “I’m a big girl, I can protect myself, and help you, no problem.”
Said door swung open to admit the imposing flaming-haired figure of his brother, Magnus, who paused for a moment looking unusually awkward, before he strode forward and drew Fulgrim into a rough embrace.
“I am glad you are back with us, brother,” he uttered gruffly after a few bewildering moments as he released Fulgrim.
“You’re…welcome?” Fulgrim answered still uncertain.
The one-eyed Primarch gave him a penetrating look in response, noting the bags under Fulgrim’s eyes and haunted gaze, before nodding firmly, “I have somebody I would you like to meet, if you wish?” he queried.
His pale brother blinked in mounting confusion, “…Yes?”
Magnus turned his head marginally toward the door, “Amunet,” he requested, as the bolt in the door ‘clinked’ as the handle was turned and the door push gently open, letting a second red haired figure that Fulgrim stared at, his mouth open in surprise.
Dusky lips quirked up into a crooked smile as intensely familiar violet eyes twinkled, “Hello, Uncle.”
Fulgrim continued to stare, apparently struck dumb at Amunet’s non sequitur, she then turned to her father and noted mildly, “I think we just made his brain fall out.”
Magnus restrained an exasperated sigh, “No, I believe it was mostly you,” he returned dryly earning a pouty look from his daughter. He looked back at still perplexed Fulgrim, “Yes?” he prompted.
Fulgrim blinked and gathered himself, “I, ah, didn’t expect you and Ira to have children?” he offered.
Magnus coughed sheepishly, “Ira and I did take a while to settle down,” while Amunet sniggered in the background.
“Don’t laugh at your father,” he chided automatically mid-sentence, to which Amunet only rolled her eyes, “… The last two centuries notwithstanding,” he continued grimly and Amunet stopped, sobering quickly, “so we both decided it was best to delay until the bulk of it was over, as did Tekhne and Perturabo.”
Fulgrim nodded the haunted look in his eyes deepening, causing a frown to shape on Amunet’s face.
“It’s over now,” she stated firmly, “you just need to get better, with our help,” she smiled with bright confidence.
This statement earned a startled, and almost shy look from the silver haired Primarch.
Magnus nodded approvingly, “As my daughter says,” that appellation is full of pride, making said daughter blush faintly, “We will do all we can to help you to recover, and she as offered to aid you in the place of that…medication,” his mouth flattened at that word, “She is skilled in soothing mental pain in others.”
“I-if she wants to,” answered Fulgrim though it was tainted with worry at what was laying in wait in his mind.
Amunet flicked his forehead, making him twitch and lift his hand to his head, “Silly Uncle,” her eyes glittered mischievously, “I’m a big girl, I can protect myself, and help you, no problem.”