unfinishedlibrary | late night reading

Entry tags:

late night reading

Who: Konrad Curze, Kaiisteron, later on: you?
What: Making Mistakes
When: sometime after 'night', it's obligatory (several days before Storytime)
Where: Somewhere in the Stacks, it's a big library. Probably time-out later. Maybe worse places.
Content warnings: Violence, daemons, primarchs, gratuitous bodily harm, the problems with uncontrolled powers, making a mess.

Sooner or later, someone in power is going to regret the group of misfits that have been taken here as Editors.

Like Konrad. He's been more or less behaving since arriving, aside from commandeering ALL cardstock of a particular color and texture, collecting singing bowls of a dozen sizes and leaving them in little clusters in the kitchen and bunks, and leaving a trail of fine, tiny glitter for several days on everything he touched. His efforts to find a way out of the Library are ongoing and unfruitful, prowling the Stacks without bothering to sleep more than once in several days.

But this time his path through the endless shelves of books is for a different purpose in simply putting as much distance between himself and the other people dragged here as he could. He has no control over when his 'gifts' chose to strike and drown him in the worst outcomes possible, but he does know when it's coming, and here there's no locked room with reinforced doors to make use of. Distance will have to do. There is a point, in the rending pain of things that haven't even happened yet, where Curze can no longer tell where he is now in favor of where he will be then.

It makes for a pathetic sight, something his size on the floor with his head in his hands in the shadows between towering shelves scaled towards his height and not human average, back pressed against the cold rows of books.

The sharp scent of blood is probably fine too. Ignore it. Everything's fine here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There are so many levels of what the fuck going on right now. It's going to have to dedicate a sizeable chunk of processing power to analysing what the hell of all that was even about.

And now it's going to have to backburner all of that, because...Sanguinius is on the ground. He drank some fucking blood, because apparently he needs it or some shit, and now he's on the fucking ground.

Urgh. It had intended to stay the hell away from this entire clusterfuck, but now it's going to have to come here and make sure Sanguinius is fucking okay, or whatever. Fine, it'll start running over to their location.

(As SecUnit runs, it also sections off another small, tiny slice of processing power to write some code that will open up a log and start writing 'WHAT THE FUCK' on repeat, over and over again. It's not going to do anything productive. But it's going to encapsulate some of what it's feeling right now, okay.)

Stalking Drone, meanwhile, is instructed to fly in closer to get a better read on Sanguinius's vitals.

Certain for his part that Sanguinius is alive, just for some reason no longer actually awake, Konrad leans carefully over, working on figuring out an appropriate means of grasping that golden armor to haul his brother off the ground - the wings are a remarkable complicating factor he's not used to dealing with. That he no longer has the strength to actually lift Sanguinius anymore eludes.

What doesn't elude him is the minute hum of a tiny power source flying closer, and he pauses again, one still reddish stained hand against the golden chestplate, to track where it's coming from. The little thing that had been in the bowl!

As soon as it gets near enough to try for a read on Sanguinius' current questionable health, Curze straightens up and grabs for it with all the surprising reach of something his size, but he's still lacking the inhuman swiftness he should have. It might escape.

(Seriously? Seriously? His friend or sibling or whatever is on the ground, and he's going for the drone instead? What the hell is with these people?)

So now the drone has to take evasive manoeuvres; flying straight up as far as possible, and as far out of Curze's reach as it can. Unfortunately, this also means it's now too far away to get a decent look at Sanguinius; SecUnit's going to have to wait until it actually gets there to make any kind of assessment on his status.

Friend is asking a bit much.

With the little flying thing out of reach again, there is a thoughtful moment where he weighs using one of his throwing knives on it, but driving a blade through things so tiny tends to destroy them and that would not be ideal. He watches it for several more heartbeats to see if it might come back down, and when it doesn't, returns to what he'd been intending to do before.

And discovers he can't actually move Sanguinius' weight. A little bit, once he gets a decent enough hold, but the easy lift it should have been is now like trying to shift a Titan. He doesn't actually pause, crouching again to feel along subtle seams in gleaming golden plate for hidden catches and locking mechanisms, testing to see if it's put together the way his own Nightmare Mantle. If it is,begin outright disassembling the power armor his brother's currently wearing. Hundreds of pounds of ceremite and adamantium are just in the way now.

Tiny drone is being listened for.

Tiny drone (aka: Stalking Drone) does not move. It stays right where it is, not budging one millimetre.

What he might hear, however, is the sound of approaching footsteps. Quick ones: the sound of someone running very, very fast.

By the way Konrad pauses, observed still by that little tiny stalker, he hears the sound of footsteps far sooner than humans are generally capable of, glancing up only briefly before returning to his work. He's being at least somewhat careful, setting chunks of gleaming metal aside that are going to have glittery, and suspiciously faintly red, fingerprints on them later without just tossing them aside into the collection of scattered, kicked-loose books that have made a mess of the aisle between shelves.

Whoever's coming just isn't important enough to pay attention to.

The drone picks up on that pause; and okay, note to self; the stupidly tall humans also have stupidly good hearing. Good to know.

At that point, SecUnit slows its speed a little - just to the point where it's now just a believably fast human. But it's close, so it arrives not long after.

The person Konrad now sees isn't anywhere near his height. But for everyone apart from him and Sanguinius, it's very tall. It's also not looking anywhere near his eyes; instead staring at Sanguinius's unconscious form.

"You better be taking those off for first aid," it grumbles. It takes a step forward - then stops. Is he going to allow SecUnit to approach? Or get in the way?

Attempting to hide it now is pointless. The difference in footfalls has already been noticed, Curze just isn't saying a word about it until he has more information. Or even when he has information; as SecUnit appears, and scent and sound mark it as not at all human in spite of its appearance, the Night Haunter gives it a brief once over and then ... sets another piece of heavy plate aside. His immediate impression is cyborg, but how much, he couldn't tell. That's not a man, though. Humans have a distinct smell.

There's a certain point where SecUnit's allowed to do whatever it pleases, but as soon as some invisible line is crossed Curze simply shifts just enough to place himself directly between it and the unconscious Sanguinius. On the surface he's just changing his angle to work on the next piece of power armor, but that's definitely not it at all to more experienced eyes. That's defensive.

Not that he thinks SecUnit is any kind of a danger. "Are you one of his serfs? You wear no markings of his Legion."

"I'm not his fucking anything," SecUnit says sharply. "Or whatever the hell a serf is."

It's at this point also that the drone it had been keeping with itself - Drone One - also pops around the corner. Like Stalking Drone, it keeps well out of Curze's way. But it flies up for another angle, giving it a greater viewpoint on the scene.

Throughout all of this, SecUnit is keeping a close eye on all inputs - and on Threat Assessment. If it spikes, it wants to know immediately.

"...I'm trying to help," it says quietly, trying to keep its voice as non-aggressive and neutral as possible. It doesn't want things to all go to shit. "He needs medical attention."

Telling exactly where Curze is looking isn't that easy, when there's no discernible difference between sclera, iris and pupil, but there's no doubt at all when his attention shifts from exhuming his brother from his armor back to SecUnit. "Then what are you?"

He hasn't raised his voice either, he doesn't need to this close. Even an unaugmented human would be able to hear him fine. But the tone, almost pleasant, is at stark contrast to what he did to Kai not all that long ago.

And now there's a second tiny flying thing.

There were countless ways the next several minutes pass, the most likely weighted inevitably towards sudden violence, but none of them had the taste of the downed Great Angel being a target except on accident, victim to stray books or a kicked bowl before ... a seafaring ship. Why do most end on a ship? The possibilities against himself were endless. But he was not the one downed. "..You may assist in removing the rest of this gaudy encasement. He'll be easier to move without it."

That's not refusal. Not exactly. Why a ship. Where does a ship come from. But aside from a sigh between clenched teeth, Curze doesn't actually ... stop SecUnit from approaching further in spite of the very much defensive placement of his own long, lean frame.

Edited 2025-11-14 23:17 (UTC)

"What the fuck are you?" it says, refusing to answer that question. (Performance Reliability however, drops a whole 5% as its insides twist violently; can he somehow hell what SecUnit is?)

Sanguinius is still unconscious though. And since Curze doesn't appear to be immediately about to attack, it moves towards Sanguinius and starts checking his vitals.

It still doesn't look at Curze. But both drones watch closely.

"...What the fuck are you?!" It says, again, as it takes a read on Sanguinius's pulse and gets a result that is fucking insane. (On the plus side: said pulse is at least going. On the downside: what the fucking hell, why does it sound like his heartbeat has somehow doubled?)

They are as completely normal a human as SecUnit is! "A primarch. As is my brother." That's an answer that's not going to explain anything at all. And now he sounds amused, for all that he's not grinning about it. Nothing has changed, Sanguinius would die on Terra. This ... is temporary.

The moment SecUnit twitches in a way he doesn't like he'll do something about it, but until then he has other things to keep him busy. At least he's beginning to run out of heavy golden plate to set aside. "Our own medicae struggle to determine what to do with us. You may not have much better luck, father didn't see fit to print medical textbooks."

It takes an entire 1.4 seconds to keep staring at Sanguinius.

(In the background, it's 'What the fuck' code is still running. It's not going to be stopped anytime soon.)

"I don't know what the fuck that is," it says. And at this rate, it's not expecting to get a decent explanation. So it just starts assisting with the removal of the armour. "There's apparently a medbay here, behind the door that keeps changing. We'll have to take him there and hope it shows up."

"A mystery for the ages." One that could tip rapidly philosophical, and he doesn't usually indulge in that unless absolutely necessary. Philosophy never gets anyone anywhere.

So long as SecUnit accepts directions, Curze doesn't have much issue with pointing out where to find the releases and seals to separate bits of armor from Sanguinius and add them to the golden pile of discarded armaments. "There was no such location when I tested that door before." If there was now, fine, that's better than nothing at all.

If the medics here could heal having a hole punched into a human's chest, they could certainly figure out why Sanguinius was unconscious. "Mind the wings," is added as an afterthought when he hooks hands under his brother's arms with every intention of hauling him right off the ground. He can still lift his own weight, but Sanguinius is heavier yet, and it's not as easy as it should be.

It's the touch under his arms that rouses him, somehow, maybe because it's Curze touching him. Maybe because it's Curze's hands on parts of him normally covered with armor. Maybe it's the unique scent of blood.

He has no idea what it is, or what's going on, or who is touching him. His mind is full of conflicting thoughts and memories--the bright ochre of Baal Secundus, the heavy oppressive darkness of Nostramo, and memories of flight and running and fighting.

He has no words, erupting from motionless to action, wings flailing, slapping at the anything within range, hands reaching like fast, unaimed claws, looking like someone clawing their way up from drowning.

SecUnit had moved to take the legs, and was just about to pick them up when Threat Assessment suddenly spiked. But not from Curze.

"Get back!" it says, as jumps back and away from the flailing wings. Shit, it can't push Curze out of danger, not when he's still literally holding onto Sanguinius...

It probably doesn't help that Curze tends to run cold temperaturewise and his hands are probably like ice. Things other people might think of. He doesn't, not even when Sanguinius goes from dead weight to putting up one hell of a struggle like a bird finding itself unexpectedly caught in a trap.

Instead of hanging on, Konrad lets go simply to get out of range of the striking edge of those wings, perfectly capable of staving in the side of tanks. Getting buried in feathers and not muscle and bone is merely disorientingly fluffy, though there is somewhere in the struggle of white feathers and limbs, a string of colorful curses the library automatically helpfully translates from Nostraman to something more intelligible.

Something about inventive ways pigs can be used on a person. It's probably for the best it loses something in the translation.

If getting picked up hadn't shaken Sanguinius awake thoroughly, being dropped again might.

It's true: icy fingers were part what pulled him back, like dumping ice cubes straight down his back.

Some of the downy feathers probably detach in all the ruckus, adding a white flurry to all the other chaos, sticking to anything fabric, and probably sticking to sticky bloody skin.

Sanguinius wasn't trying to hurt anyone, just try to figure out where he was and why gravity felt wrong--pulling him down, hard, again, suddenly.

He clocked the strange voice, yelling 'get back'--the words stabbed through his awareness and he twisted, flapping one powerful wing to help move his bulk, and suddenly, faster than normal and even Astartes eyes could track, he was in a crouch, on his feet, looming over the speaker, eyes red and wild, stopping his hand about an inch away from grabbing the other's throat.

Threat Assessment spikes, hard. If it weren't a SecUnit, it wouldn't have had any chance to react at all.

(Later, it was going to have to watch the recording of this back later and analyse it in slow motion, just so it could get a better idea of just what these freakishly tall humans were capable of.

Right now though, it was too busy frantically calculating speeds and trajectories and potential outcomes.)

Turns out, Sanguinius is fast - so even though SecUnit is quick, it's not quick enough to dodge backwards. It is, however, able to bring up its arm, point it at Sanguinius, and engage its energy weapon. Neither Sanguinius or Curze will see the weapon deploy - but they might hear its high-pitched hum.

Thankfully, before its force to fire, Sanguinius stops.

SecUnit stays dead still.

"...Sanguinius," it says slowly. "I don't want to hurt you."

(It also hopes he doesn't want to hurt it. Fuck.)

This has escalated in the most interesting of fashions. Konrad probably should do something but he isn't, as soon as Sanguinius turns on SecUnit instead of himself. There's a few feathers stuck to him that definitely aren't part of the blackfeathered cloak he wears, these are much larger and suspiciously white, and as things go from flailing to sudden stillness and stalemate, he observes.

Sanguinius' inhibitions were still firmly in place, or SecUnit might not have a head anymore, and or someone might be getting shot full of holes.

He steps with deceptive delicacy around the scattered golden armor on bare feet, mindful of the books and the overturned bowl, and the only time he reaches out again is when he knows he's in Sanguinius' line of sight, to push lightly. Nowhere near the force needed to actually move that wild-eyed shape. "He won't harm you without worse provocation," he mutters under his breath, sounding a little sour. "He's revoltingly decent."

For a long moment--or at least it seems long--Sanguinius does nothing, and there's no movement from him, only the wafting down of white down feathers, like little avian tumbleweeds.

Is it the sound of the...not quite las fusil charging up, or is it the icy touch on his arm from his brother that snaps him out of it? Even he wouldn't know, but he snaps out of it, hard, as fast as an eyeblink, his eyes clearing, hand dropping to his side.

"I'm sorry," he says, abruptly, pushing back to his feet, and to clear some distance between them, more white downy feathers swirling into the wake of his motion, as his eyes focus and realize...who he had almost attacked. The poor young human who was already so traumatized. And he had just made it so, so much worse. "I would not harm you." Unconvincing, but sincere.

(Oh Sanguinius. It's not violence that traumatised SecUnit. At least, not in the way he thinks.)

Over the stretch of Sanguinius's long silence, Threat Assessment steadily ticks down. Then a little more, after he moves away. SecUnit lowers its arm, disengaging its weapon.

For 3.2 seconds, it stays silent.

"You realise that you two are a problem," it says finally. "Both of you are at least twice of the size of anyone else here. More than that, for quite a few people. You can't react like that. You're going to kill someone."

Its eyes flicker over to Curze, for the briefest fraction of a section.

"Apparently he already did." Doesn't matter that Kai somehow made a miraculous recovery; it still shouldn't have happened in the first place.

There's an opportunity here that Konrad decides suddenly to take advantage of. Sanguinius is now going to be thoroughly preoccupied with SecUnit, and SecUnit's focus is going to be mostly on the angel that nearly attacked it.

An excellent time to choose to be somewhere else.

Instead of addressing any of that, he stoops to pick up the still bloodied singing bowl and heads in the other direction, disturbingly quiet for something his size. SecUnit is right, of course, but not much can be done about untraining weapons to be less deadly.

But. No? No! "I am not a problem." He's a primarch. They start with the same letter, but that's the only similarity!

He slow blinks at the next because, yes, of course, he has killed someone. Many someones. Probably in the thousands. That was his job. That couldn't be what the other meant, which left...the question. "How do you know I am going to kill someone? Do you also have the gift?"

Hey it could be a very miserable and unhappy club of prophesiers.

"I was speaking to my brother. That situation has already been handled." No, it hadn't, because Curze kept slipping away from answering him, but this was a matter between primarchs.

Perhaps Curze's tactic would have worked, if not for the fact SecUnit has two drones keeping a close eye on the both of them, and it's a SecUnit. It was literally designed to be able or monitor multiple locations at the same time.

"Don't you fucking go anywhere!" it snaps, before Curze gets too far.

(For fuck's sake.)

"And no, you have not handled it," it says, scowling. All they'd done was talk their weird fucked up family, where they all murdered their own offspring. And then drank some blood (ew).

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/casually slides past sanguinius

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noooo how dare you abandon him in his minute of need?

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