Warhammer: My Mother Sanguinius

After parting with the warriors, Sanguinius returned to his home.

Her residence is at the top of the castle.

On a black spire.

The scenery here is very good. Through the window, you can see the undulating outline of the Blood Mountains, like an ancient dragon dormant in the shadows.

The dust and sand stirred up from the painful wasteland farther away, like a hazy red gauze. As long as you are not in it, from a distance, these red sands are actually somewhat indescribably beautiful.

The room was very clean, and there was a faint smell of incense in the air.

There are no additional decorations on the black floor.

Empty.

There were just blankets hanging on the walls and a huge wardrobe in the corner.

There is a night light placed on the bedside, powered by a promethium engine disassembled from a scrapped car, and it is emitting a faint blue light.

Everything was silent.

As he held his breath, Sanguinius could hear the hum of the promethium engines running to generate electricity.

She took off her clothes and cleaned her body with water.

I felt refreshed.

The fatigue after the hard battle also disappeared without a trace.

When wandering in the desert, Sanguinius can also use psychic flames to directly burn away the dirt on his body to ensure that his body remains clean as necessary.

But compared with bathing in the traditional sense, this method always feels less ritualistic.

And now.

As Sanguinius wiped the wet droplets from his feathers with a clean towel.

This missing sense of ritual has finally been completed.

She likes to spend time combing her feathers, carefully cleaning out every speck of dust and combing out those feathers that are restless in their original positions.

When his fingers gently stroked the ends of the wings, a pleasant feeling filled the original Superman's perception.

For Sanguinius.

Re-feathering was the happiest thing she had ever known.

The straight feathers at the end of her wings are so huge and connected directly to the inner muscles that they can take care of themselves without any extra attention. The outer coverts are much smaller in comparison and can easily deviate from their positions, so some extra time and energy need to be spent on them.

finally--

Half an hour later.

Sanguinius's wet hair was left to dry naturally.

Every feather on the wings returned to its rightful place.

Flap your wings and feel the wind flowing through the gaps in your feathers.

Sanguinius' brows relaxed, his body relaxed, and he was very satisfied with the work he had done in the past half hour.

This satisfaction lasted until she lay on the bed.

wing--

Her wings are of great use in battle.

This allows her to attack from different angles as she pleases, and is strong enough to withstand bullets and weapons wielded by demons.

Can be the same.

Another thing I have to admit.

These wings brought some unexpected troubles to her life.

For example, right now, when Sanguinius is lying on her back on the soft bed with her wings open, she can feel the muscles and bones on her wings becoming sore due to the squeezing of her own weight, and as time goes by Gradually losing consciousness.

She chose to turn her body sideways.

The feathers that had just been combed left their post again, and their hair was pressed by their shoulders. Unexpectedly, there was a slight tingling sensation.

All right!

Sanguinius continued to turn around, choosing to lie prone on the bed.

This time, the wings can be stretched to both sides, and there is no need to worry about suppressing the shining golden hair.

However--

There was a dull feeling in my chest.

It was hard to breathe, and there was a shameful sourness.

She seemed to be angry with herself and persisted for almost an hour.

Drowsily as if asleep, but not at all.

The bedside night light goes out.

The hum of the promethium engine disappeared, leaving only the rustle of gravel in the wind.

call--

The angel finally couldn't hold on any longer.

She slowly got up from the bed and sat down on the bed with a look of despair.

Breathing heavily in the fresh air in the room.

Prophecy and innate knowledge gave Sanguinius access to many secrets.

She knew clearly that she had twenty brothers, and that she was the only female among all the Primarchs.

Just like these wings on my back.

It is a unique existence.

Sanguinius thought deeply about this question during the many silent nights that fell on Baal.

but now--

A wicked answer appeared in her consciousness.

Could it be that her creator, biological father, and the great Emperor of Mankind—designed her to look like this, deliberately prevented her from enjoying a moment of sleep and prevented her from slacking off?

"All right,"

Sanguinius said to himself as he put on his clothes, "In this case, at least I have some other means to try to relax."

Click!

She came to the black window sill.

Push the window outward.

The wind poured into the room, mixing with the smell of rust.

There is no moon on Baal, or Baal itself is the moon of Baal.

Many years ago, Ba moon was called a lucky star.

It is a world as beautiful as heaven.

But a devastating war destroyed all of this and permanently changed the ecology of Ba moon.

Turning it into a dead planet filled with deadly radiation and mutant beasts.

The absence of the moon does not mean there is no light.

Red scars - astronomical phenomena caused by Baal's gravity spread across the sky.

Bundles of gossamer-like red light hung silently and peacefully from high in the sky.

It's like being fixed by some great force into an eternal aurora.

Looking down from the open window, below are towering iron towers and steep cliffs, with a vertical drop of more than a thousand meters.

The angel was standing on the black windowsill with his ankles bare.

Stand up slowly.

The snow-white wings are bathed in the cold light of the red scar, and the skirt corners are flying in the wind, outlining the curves of the slender calves.

Uh-huh!

She closed her eyes and spread her arms.

Falling forward——

come down!

come down!

come down!

The raised ground rapidly zoomed into the field of vision, and every detail was clearly visible.

But the angel was not afraid.

She had felt the power.

It was like an extension of her own limbs, controlled by her will.

wind!

Flows through the gaps in the wings.

The roaring hurricane tore through the surging red mist, and the updraft formed in an instant gently offset the gravity of Baobao.

The sky opened its wings and embraced her daughter in her arms.

Flap your wings and fly!

At the moment when he was about to touch the ground, Sanguinius rose up from the ground, and rushed into the sky with the roar of tearing cloth through the air.

…

On the observation platform extending from the brass fortress.

Cano and Kelly walked side by side.

The poet is preparing his new creation, while Carnot plays the role of a listener and occasionally offers some suggestions of his own.

Uh-huh!

He heard the air being ripped apart.

He stopped immediately and looked forward with vigilance.

Under the black cliff at the edge of the observation deck, a snow-white figure rushed out, flew high into the sky, and turned into a wisp of light among the stars.

"Angels, angels in the sky."

Kano looked at the poet, and both could see similar emotions on each other's faces.

"Aren't you asking about new works?" The poet grabbed Kano's arm excitedly and shook it vigorously. "Now, I already have the answer!"