Magnus the Red (magnusthered) wrote in thespotrpg, @ 2020-05-09 14:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | klara prast |
Who: Magnus & Klara
What: Arrival, investigation.
Where: Bungalow 5
When: 5/9, afternoon
Rating/Warnings: Presumably low / none atm
Notes: Any psychics/mind-powered folk in the area will likely have noticed his appearance; he's a big ol bright presence when he's not masking it.
The glow of life on the world was growing smaller - the individual flames being extinguished with a speed that made Magnus’ breath catch when he turned his focus towards it, drifting from watching the physical devastation to that only visible in the fringes of the materium, where the tides of the Great Ocean lapped at his senses, carrying a hiss of laughter from a being who offered him power to stop this, to salvage at least something from the ruin he’d allowed to happen here.
He lingered there, on the edge of the material world, not quite ready to pull from this world but poised there, on the edge, ready but not yet ready to turn to that laughing being and beg for him to stop this, take him as payment already owed, whatever he needed to do…. Magnus’ physical form shifted wildly - none paid him any mind, up here, he was alone and they all had far more pressing matters to attend to, but were anyone to have seen him, he would have been layers and layers of flickering images and light, layering over and over and over at a dizzying speed that belied his torment. He was many things at once: a whirling cacophony of brilliant light, a 20ft. red giant, a king, a soldier, a father, a monster, a magician, a man, a primarch, a bubble of energetic form that could not settle, not with the tormentous waves of despair and betrayal and fury and regret that tore through him.
He spun away from the scene before him - the howling of the Wolves lingering on the winds behind him, louder than the gunfire, now; the lights of his sons’ souls flickering and being put out abruptly, some of them twisting and morphing, blazing and sputtering and consuming them as the Flesh Change re-emerged. In a breath, his body of light left his form, swooping into the Great Ocean to meet this monstrosity that had laid all these plans, the changer of ways, the hissing laugh in the tides of the energetic sea he had thought himself the master of.
Magnus knew he had been wrong. Perhaps for a very, very long time - no, not perhaps, he knew for certain that he had been wrong for such a long time, that it was impossible to imagine the implications of what could have been. For someone who spent so much of his life convincing others that he was right, that he knew all there was save that which had not been discovered - for someone whose sole purpose had been to lead humanity into a new age of enlightenment and betterment, being so painfully, brutally wrong was agony.
The hissing laughter swirls around him, an energy that shimmered with malice and glee and intentions too confusing to quite place, and Magnus held his fury inside and pressed the shattered remnants of his pride down beneath him, like crushing shards of broken mirror beneath his feet, discarded and useless now, preparing to speak-
- his eye opened slowly, his mind hazed for a moment, as though rising from a deep sleep.
Magnus did not often sleep - in fact, he could not easily recall when the last time he had done so was. Perhaps as a child, perhaps not even then… ordinarily, he found meditation to be more efficient, time spent organizing his thoughts and impressions into a tightly-wound tapestry of information for later, while his body sat motionless but aware, ready to be alert again at a moment’s notice. He preferred this, as waking up from meditative states was refreshing, where waking from slumber was slow, like dragging oneself through syrup and blood and gravel to reach some level of alertness.
When his focus comes back to him, he is… confused. There are levels of confusion - not levels, but layers, perhaps, and peeling them away one-by-one adds only further disorientation.
At first, he thinks that perhaps he was rendered unconscious and taken, as a prisoner, aboard one of the Wolves’ vessels… but that thought is quickly dismissed as he takes in the room, un-moving in the bed save for the single eye traveling about the room, and his invisible senses flickering to life around him. The scent of the room is clean, fresh; perhaps a bit of the smell of structure left unused for a time, but nothing distasteful. No smell of damp fur, no animalistic musk to offend his senses. This was not something the Space Wolves would have had on offer as a cell for even one such as him. Moreover, he cannot feel the soft vibrations from the engines or the breath of the void between the stars, which means this is not aboard any vessel.
He focuses less on his vision and sense of smell, then, the finite physical senses not being much more than a preliminary scouting - his eye falling closed again as he turns his other senses outward, into the world around him. His body of light slips free from his shell once more (seems like just a moment ago, seems like he should still be free, should still be sensing the destruction and the pain around him), and spirals up, through the ceiling of this room, and up and up, swirling invisible light dancing up into the sky. The souls here are few, compared to even the ruins of Tizca, of his beautiful city turned to ash and rubble. Some of them are more interesting than others - brighter, or perhaps larger than ordinary humans, or even the majority of his psyker sons had been.
He makes a note to investigate that soon, as soon as he knew where he was, and for what purpose he had been taken here.
This place, he thinks, as he spins, taking in the overall appearance of what seems to be a beautiful island, This place does not bear the taint of the Warp. It is clearly uncorrupted by Chaos - by the Ruinous Powers who he’d almost turned himself wholly over to in his final moments on Prospero. So this, then, is not that monstrosity in the Great Ocean, having whisked him away to some obscure corner of the immaterium. This…
…was confusing.
Magnus, a bright spot of light cloaked from the view of ordinary mortals, descended back to where his body lay, body of light joining body of flesh, and his eye opened once more, swirling iris of indescribable hues shifting wildly as he took in the room again, and this time he sat up. His physical form shimmered and warped as he tried to find a comfortable form to take - his distress from before was still there, imprinted into his skin and bones, the very fibers that held him inside this body vibrating with the lingering aftermath of that tension and rage and the stinging wounds of betrayal. He settled on a smaller form than his usual - given that he had no idea where he was, it seemed likely that anything more would attract unwanted attention, if, by some bizarre twist of fate, these people did not already know who it was they had taken here. If they did, it seemed unlikely that taking on the towering and hostile form he felt clipping at the edges of his physical reality would help him anyway; they clearly feared him little.
Rising to his feet, Magnus willed the bed-covers straight and flat with a flick of power as he turned and examined the room closer. There was what appeared to be a small parcel of some kind, and he waved a hand, pulling at threads from the Great Ocean to turn it over, looking at it curiously, then to carefully deconstruct it’s outer wrappings. Inside were two devices - which he set aside gently to examine further in a moment, and what appeared to be an old form of currency. There was also a note, which he lifted towards him, plucking it out of the air delicately with one hand.
It appeared to be instructions on how to connect to some network, using, presumably, the devices granted to him. He set the note down, to address it later, and moved towards the door. He doubted, somehow, that it would be locked - and thin wood like this would be of no issue, even if it were. It was not locked.
Magnus glanced in either direction as he stepped out of the room, his expression schooled into passive curiosity, and he picked a direction and began to walk, senses reaching out to find the nearest person. He needed to speak with someone, and better understand what was happening, and why he was here.