WARHAMMER 40,000: A Thousand Tiny Suns (40k/Exalted Crossover!)

"...are we married?" you asked, looking up at the thin smear of blue between pillars of smoke. Gitta's head jerked up, while Kit made a sound like you'd punched him in the stomach.

"What!?" He exclaimed.

"What?" you asked, hurriedly. Where had that come from?! You started to hurriedly continue. "I mean...it's just...we...there...I...uh...shut up!"

"You were the one who spoke first," he said, and he sounded amused. How dare he. His palm rested on your shoulder and he was quiet for a bit. "But I think we should get to know one another a little before we get married." He had a faintly amused tone to his voice, but his hand was familiar, stroking along your shoulder. You melted into him without thinking, leaning back as Gitta let out a little whuffling-snort through her respirator, her ears twitching, then flattening. She didn't approve. Well. She was a horse. "Why don't we start at the beginning?"

"Right, uh, uh, uh, uh, in the year of our Lord 433 of the 40th millennium, approximately two thousand five hundred and sixty eight years ago, there was a schism in the Council of Autocrats between the-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kit said, hurriedly. "I don't need you go back that far back. Who were your parents?"

"I was decanted by Medica Surgeon 90-01," you said, nodding. "From uterine replicator 551, which is notable as being the only replicator in berth 5-A that hasn't had a fault for more than sixty years, meaning that it doesn't need a Magos Biologis to examine it." The words came spilling out, more detail than you think you've ever given to anyone about yourself in your whole life. Your cheeks burned and you veered the sentence off to the side, crashing it like a groundcar with the brakes cut. "A-And, uh...uh, then I had a normal...childhood...on Krieg."

"You didn't have parents?" Kit sounded a bit sad. "How raised you?"

"C-Crèches are quite common across the galaxy!" You said, hurriedly. Names bloomed into your head. "T-There's Mu Ceta and...and Ro Ceta and, um, uh, uh, the Schola Progenium! That's a kind of a Crèche. The Vandian Dune Dwellers practice a form of Crèchism! And there's the patronage and fosterage in various medieval worlds, one can almost see that as a kind of simplified, low technology Crèche!" You realized you were babbling again. It was like a cork had come undone, and he was pouring you out. You swerved the conversation again, stammering. "I-It wasn't bad at all. I learned a great deal. About sacrifice and loyalty and service. I...then I was assigned to the medica...naval auxiliaries."

"That's a good, honorable profession," Kit said, sounding proud of you. "Keeping a man alive is half the fight against the buggers out there."

"...I guess it is..." you said, squirming slightly. "What about you?"

"Well, my Da and my Da were both tech-wights, support classification AX-9081 Sigmarus," Kit said, casually. His hand continued to rub your shoulder. "They served their twenty years, mustered into the secondary brigades and set up a little kaff shop in one of the high orbital defense platforms. They had me up there by calling on the service of a Sister of the Eternal Service, one of the Hospitaliars that handles midwifery." He sighed. "They both moved out of Cadia when their secondary brigade was called to service reinforcing a planetary invasion in the Segmentum Ultima, then I got called to the service for this battle, back when it was a minor rebellion. That was...oh...two hundred years ago, subjective."

"Oh."

"Warp travel, huh?" he asked. "Still got their letters, in the weeks before the...that..." He gestured up, indicating the orbital drop bombardment. "The planetary invasion went off well enough, and they had a new kaff, and I've got some brothers and sisters out that way. I suppose they're on the far side of the Warpstorm now..." He sighed, quietly.

"What's a brother?" you asked, curiously.

Kit laughed. "41-22, you really are a remarkable font of contradictions."

You were still trying to figure out if that was an insult when you came to a ridge that overlooked the battlefield you had been approaching - a lull coming over the air as the artillery had slowed and the gunfire was ceasing. Ragged cheers were ringing out and when you peeked over the edge of the ridge, you took in the confused mess at a glance. One didn't need to be an expert to see the imperial position: There rows and rows of trenches and fox holes, leading up to dug in tanks and earthshakers. Surrounding them was a cratered, smoke wreathed hellscape - and there were masses of troops that were milling around in confusion.

"Notice something missing?" Kit asked, leaning over your shoulder.

"Uh..." you looked.

"No Word Bearers," 7-7 crouching by the raise as well. "Not traitor marines at all - they're all gone. Where, though?"

You frowned, then lifted your gaze and your mask to the voidship. Their so called Lord had gone running back - had he pulled his marines back too? Considering you had killed three and Kit had killed eight, that would be eleven dead marines in about the same number of minuets by two completely normal Guardsmen.

...well, outwardly normal.

Well, outwardly normal when Kit wasn't a big beastmen. You blushed and pushed the mental image of his tall, muscular other form out of your head. It was too confusingly distracting. And soft. And fluffy. And...male. And shut up! Shut up! You shook your head as Gitta flicked an ear, like she was saying: Get your head in the game!

"The marines are falling back. That's bad," you whispered. "And that Sorcerer is still around. He might know. Intuit. if they know about us, then, then...um..." You bit your lip, thinking.

You glowed gold. Blessed by the Emperor. Of course they'd hate you, want to kill you.

Drop a continent killing lance bombardment on you?

Hmmm.

Hmmm!

---
[ ] Ride to the IMperial lines and report in, as is your duty.
[ ] Send the guardsmen to report in - take Kit and Gitta to site beneath the voidship that the traitors seem to be using as a shuttleport.
[ ] Loot the battlefield for a jump-pack from a dead Chaos Space Marine, modify it into a makeshift flying machine, and get to the Voidship ASAP.
[ ] Write In

STATS
Health: Fine
Anima: Dim
Willpower: 4/5
Personal Motes: 1/13 | Peripheral Motes: 0/28
Limit: 0/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 48 | GXP: 45 | WXP: 0