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

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).

It isn't that Curze thinks even for a moment SecUnit has either the authority or ability to stop him from leaving, though he's wrong about one of those. It's that it's going to get Sanguinius' attention too.

The tiny flying things are certainly helping it, aren't they.

He turns on one bare heel, gesturing with the dark-stained bowl. "You wished to help, there he is. Render aid. He should not need to be carried now."

Sanguinius's head is clearing from the overlay of Curze's memories atop his own. It had been overwhelming--perhaps it would reveal itself to him, in time, in bits and pieces, and not the tidal wave of sensation, memory, and dark emotion that had hit him this time.

He draws himself up to his full height, the impression of which would probably be more impressive if he wasn't handprinted with little daubs of blood like a cave painting, flecking his wings, and with at least one pinfeather bent out of line. Still, he mustered all the authority he could. "It has been handled. It will not recur. Steps are in place. You need not concern yourself." Could he throw a bit more passive voice into there? He'd surely try if he could.

That was to SecUnit. But Curze? You better concern yourself, because Sanguinius is going to glue himself to your hip for the immediate future, if only so his words do not become untruths. "I need no aid. I was...momentarily overcome." So he's fine now, all of this isn't necessary, let's just all go our separate ways.

(Was SecUnit intimidated? Okay, maybe a little. From what little it has seen of these two, it was starting to get the sense that it didn't really know whether it could take them.

But it was still a SecUnit. It was built to take hits. If it couldn't survive an encounter with these two, no one else was going to be able to.)

"No. It's not," it says. "Because you can't spend every minute of every cycle making sure he doesn't kill someone. You," - it nods its head towards Curze - "were just about to walk off without him. And you..."

It pauses, as it returns to addressing Sanguinius. It has the inkling of an idea that might help. Not a perfect solution, but better than 'Sanguinius follows Curze around forever', which was a stupid fucking plan. But it a solution that's going to require that these two know a bit more about how its drones work.

Like, say, the fact that one of them was watching their whole conversion earlier.

Yeah.

"...You let him distract you about your whole blood drinking thing, then fucking knocked yourself out by drinking his."

"You are a bold little thing, aren't you." SecUnit is, if nothing else, very persistent. And eavesdropping, it seems.

Curze didn't much like people knowing about his foresight, even among his legion it was closely guarded. Not because of the visions themselves but the side effects. He'd gotten lucky over the decades that it hasn't gotten him killed. Sanguinius being aware was bad enough.

And if SecUnit overheard the issue of blood, it could have heard the rest of what has been said.

...The little flying machines.

He says nothing else. He was in fact going to ideally walk off alone, yes, and still intended to do so; there's no display of inherent command and authority, Sanguinius has that covered. The assessment that he'd probably kill someone was fair and accurate, he would. Actively planning to, in fact. There were xenos here, mutants that were not permitted, and...

... Well, whatever SecUnit is. Some form of cyborg perhaps. Not illegal, but it had heard things it shouldn't be allowed to. Not just about himself, but both of them.

Just ... not right now. Not when he isnt moving as fast as he should be, weaker than he should be. There is very much the sense Curze isn't going to linger long. The moment he has sufficient distraction, he's going to see about escape again.

He shared a look with Curze, that the SecUnit would probably not like if it understood the meaning of: this one is a danger, and might need to be neutralized. Like the flying things. He debates, idly, within himself, the value of snatching one of those out of the air, just to prove a point.

To the other, though, he cocked his head, with a half smile. "Perhaps you could remind me. Under whose authority, exactly, you deign to position yourself to judge us?" Only their Father could truly pass judgment on them, and his judgments were swift, brutal, and final.

He almost admires the moxie. If the situation weren't so dangerous, he might.

"What you saw, what you think you saw, was my brother indulging me in a local custom of my tribe, because he is kinder than you seem to be capable of thinking he is." There, two birds, one stone: Curze has good qualities (shut up, Curze) and the SecUnit simply...miscontextualized what he saw, which was, after all, freely given blood.

"The authority of not wanting anyone else to fucking die," it says. Except despite its hard words, its face is twisting in a way that looks...upset.

(SecUnit doesn't know the meaning of that look, specificially. But Threat Assessment spikes, suddenly. So it knows that one or both of them is considering violence now, in a way they weren't before.

It's fucking all of this up. Why did it think it could convince anyone of anything? It doesn't even know how to talk to humans like a normal person, let along like a negotiator like Karime. This is all going wrong and it's its own fucking fault.)

"I just want to program some drones to alert for him," it blurts out. "So if he has another episode, other people know to stay back." They couldn't lock him in a room somewhere, they couldn't expect Sanguinius to spend every moment watching him. But they could at least make sure people had warning.

"And I don't care about your customs or dietary requirements or whatever," it adds on in a grumble. "Though you should try to find the stupid medbay and do a proper blood draw for it. Don't just slice yourself open, that's not safe."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject