Indulge in a little Practical Gothicism...

Oh, how he had been dreaming of this. Been dreaming of all he might find, all he might read. Hadrian could already imagine losing hours, days even, in his studies, sifting through materials, pouring over texts. What might he be able to make more accessible? What might he bring to the common people? Lofty goals, of course, but a man can always dream.

"Will we be touching down soon?" he asks, voice almost pleading, far too excited to be set foot on those glorious streets. Hadrian wasn't the only remembrancer going to Prospero, but he was the one perhaps more excited to stay. Not even planetside yet, and already he was thinking of it as home.

"Yes," a gruff voice said. "So, sit down and buckle in." One of the few Imperial guardsmen that had accompanied them on their ship, even though they had been assured it was 'perfectly safe and easy.' And it had been, even if Hadrian himself had longed for just a touch of drama. Really, he would have been happy even with some pretty men to ogle.

The majority of the trip had been nothing but sterile grey walls, and creeping boredom. Nothing to remark upon, if he's being entirely honest. This though? This was a sight to be recorded! He spares a moment to lament upon the fact he's not a painter, nor a picter. He can only do so much to immortalize the sight. What was that old Terran saying? A pict is work a thousand words? Well, he could provide those words; could provide thousands more, and would, until the breath left his lungs. Hadrian hopes, privately, that those last breaths will be here on Prospero, in this glittering city.

"Yes yes, I'll be a good boy and strap in," he grumbles. Leaving the observation window with a reluctant sigh. His ink-stained hands trembled, as he strapped back into his seat.

He's glad to have listened, though, as the landing is harsh, the atmosphere unyielding. Turbulent, dangerous. Eventually though, they do land, settling into their landing bay with a solid thunk. All their papers are checked before they're even allowed to unbuckle, so as to make it easier to ship someone back home without giving them a chance to make a run for it.

The guard lets out a low whistle when he sees Hadrian's clearance. "You're going all the way into them fancy triangles, yeah?"

Hadrian has to laugh. "The pyramids? Yes. It would be rather hard for me to do my work without access to the primary text itself.

He's given a blank look in return, and his papers are shoved back into his hands. "They'll want to check theses here on the planet too. Once that's done, go show them to the big guy by the offices."

"The big guy?" But when Hadrian steps out into the sun, it makes sense. He does as directed, getting everything stamped by the officials, but when the rest of the Remembrancers get herded off toward the administrative buildings, Hadrian is instead nudged toward 'the big guy.' A towering Astartes, dressed far more casual than Hadrian had ever seen. Not to mention utterly gorgeous.

Tawny skin, and broad. Broader than anyone Hadrian had ever seen before. Certainly not any he had hooked up with. Big brown eyes, rimmed in black look down at him, and Hadrian, surprisingly, doesn't see any indications of annoyance. No, instead there is only welcome.

"I, uh, I was told to come see you? I'm one of the new Remembrancers, focusing on translations and poetry?" he says it like he's not sure if it's correct. As if his purpose and credentials have changed in the last few moments since stepping off the ship. Hadrian holds his papers like a lifeline, clinging.

"Do you have your documentation?" Djedkara could sound bored. He might, many others would. He isn't. The Remembrancers fascinate him on a level they don't other Astartes.

"Yes!" Hadrian squeaks, holding it out, clamped between sweaty fingers. Barly remembering to let go. The man is just so pretty.

Djedkara practically has to prize it from his fingers. Scanning through with an inhuman quickness. "This all looks to be in order."

"That's good. It would have been a shame if- if I had gotten all the way here and you weren't happy with it." Throne, where have his skills gone? Just last week he'd be flirting his way down the street, but now his knees just feel like gelatin.

"I must ask. Where is it you come from? I presume this is your first time to our fair planet."

"Oh, nowhere special. Just a little place where nothing much happens. Plenty of time to study..."

And Djedkara smiles. "You'll fit right in."

Hadrian beams up at him, finally a touch less nervous. "I do hope so. This is all I've wanted for years! I don't think I'll ever wish to leave."

"Let me show you to where you will be working."

"Please do! I've read of it, but nothing quite compares to being here."

They start to walk, Djedkara slowing his steps to accommodate the mortal at his side. "Tell me about what you've read?"

"As much as I could of Prospero. That it was wasteland, was barren, and he made it bountiful. That it's a haven, a sanctuary, the largest library in the Imperium." He smiles, a tad. "That Tizca glitters in gilt and celestial gems."

"All true." Djedkara smiles. "Our father has made a paradise, and made it safe."

"He must be magnificent," Hadrian says, holding his mane of hair off the back of his neck.

"He is. With any luck, you'll meet him some day."

And there goes all of his mustered confidence. "Really? I- I can't imagine he'd have any time for me, and it's not as if I'm wishing to scribe his memoir or anything."

"He likes to meet the Remembrancers."

"Even when we have nothing much to offer?" He's vaguely nauseous, now. But looking up at the gorgeous man makes things a bit better, even if Hadrian is half squinting from the sun.

"Yes. It isn't an interrogation."

Somehow that only makes him more unsteady. "To be honest, I'm struggling just being around you for how magnificent you are. I think perhaps the Crimson King's attention of any sort would break me."

"Then we'll make sure you've time to adjust before any such sort of encounter."

Damn, and not even a blink at his feeble attempts at flirtation. Oh well. "I was given the impression I'm the only one who has gained entry to these archives, but that can't be right, can it?"

"Among the mortal Remembrancers? So far, yes."

"But they're such stunning collections! You house the largest library in the Imperium, why in Terra's name would I be the first to request access!"

"It isn't relevant to the work a lot of them do."

"Well that's a crying shame!" He can't imagine the more academically geared of his fellows not wanting to explore the depths of the libraries.

"What made me get in then?"

"Magnus must have found your application sufficient. Or the fact that you made such an application at all enough of a sign."

Again, his stomach flutters. "I only wanted to bring old tales and art to people."

"And you shall." Djedkara promises.

Hadrian smiles up at him. "I don't suppose you and yours have any stories of your own as yet untranslated? Any requests you'd like to see the public read first?"

"Well, I could tell you some stories about the outer spread of Prospero..."

"Oh? I'm sure that must have been a magnificent sight!"

"Once the Crimson King came, indeed."

"Were you there, then? Since before he was reunited with the legion?"

"I was. I was only small, then."

"A…. What's the title… a neophyte? Or smaller yet?"

"Smaller yet. Mortal, still."

Hadrian fumbles in his pockets for his psyquill, scrambling to click it on. He doesn't want to miss a second of this.

"I lived beyond where the city was, even then. It was... very dangerous."

"I was under the impression there weren't any predators here?"

"Not inside Tizca, nor the domes outside."

"But beyond those?"

"There were... psychic predators. Psychneueins, we called them. They attack the brain."

"Oh! How awful!"

"Terribly things, terribly nasty. Are you psychically gifted?"

Hadrian blinks, stunned. But if he's being asked so directly…. "Not that I know of."

"Then you'll likely be safe. And you'd be safe in the city anyhow."

"It's true then," he whispers. "That Prospero is a haven of psykers?"

"It is. Very much true."

"And no one is afraid?"

"Not on this account."

"That must be... soul liftingly freeing."

"It's wonderful. To be in community with others."

"And- I- well, not to be improper, but the Crimson King...?"

"Is he a psyker, do you mean?"

He nods, a touch scared. "Or at least... does he care?"

"He is the psyker of psykers. Second only to the Emperor."

Hadrian's mouth goes dry. Everything is tingling, as if lighting is about to strike, or a predator about to pounce. "What do you mean, the Emperor."

"I shouldn't have spoken so plainly. My apologies."

"No, what do you mean, the Emperor?" His breathing is speeding up now, just out of his control. "If- If he's also- then why-?"

"Why are we so looked down on? I can't say. Worlds have and keep their taboos and prejudices," Djedkara says, shrugging.

"If I- if that was said- if- but-?" the words won't come. A decade a scholar, a poet, a translator, and language fails him.

"You need to breathe." Djedkara insists. "Do you need help?"

He gets a pathetic wheeze in answer, Hadrian's eyes wide.

So, he puts his hands on Hadrian's shoulders. And sets to using biomancy to calm his breathing. Hadrian panics harder, for a moment, the thrashing of a man losing control, until he realizes how much easier it is to think. How much less struggle there is to get oxygen. How the darkening haze around his vision has cleared.

"It's alright." Djedkara says gently. "You can trust me. I'm a medic."

A small whine slips out, and Hadrian can feel any last shreds of dignity leaving with it. He finally goes slack, letting this beautiful space marine do as he will. The next thing Djedkara slows is his heart rate. Only a tiny adjustment. Not even enough for Hadrian to feel it, but overall he's frankly begging the man doesn't notice the beginnings of a tent in his trousers. "Thank you, sir," he manages, mouth dry.

"Djedkara. I neglected to introduce myself."

He licks his lips, managing a faint nod. "Thank you Djedkara. My apologies."

"Mine, rather. I did not mean to unsettle you so."

"If... If anyone had said that, back on my homeworld, even someone like you, elevated as you are...." Hadrian swallows, heavy and laboured. "It would not have ended well for them."

"Ah. You come from that sort of a place."

"They hardly trusted us," he whispers. "Said the only ones who would want to do our work must have something wrong in the head."

"Just for wishing to research?"

"For wishing to do anything apart from work the fields."

"I worked the fields, in my time. Then the greenhouses."

He almost wants to laugh. "And we both ended up here..."

"I joined the Legion after a few years of that."

"From your help, I suppose you have the forbidden gifts as well."

"I do. I have honed the gift of manipulating the body."

"S'that why you're so pretty?"

"I haven't altered my own body. Well. Only a little. I had a crossed eye when I was small."

"Oh, I bet that was just darling." But he's reeling, just a touch, at the fact the man is so gorgeous entirely naturally,

"But quite inconvenient. Needed straightening out."

"Still, darling all the same, I'm sure."

"My parents certainly thought so."

Hadrian, finally relaxed enough now to give him a small smile, leans his head against one of the hands holding his shoulders. "Not that your eyes aren't darling now as well..."

"Why, thank you." He seems as if he might blush.

"They are! All soft and pretty. I could go swimming, I think."

"You're very kind indeed."

"Can't you tell I'm telling the truth?" he asks, worn out in a more relaxed way than he's ever been before.

"That isn't my gift, you know."

"I thought all the Astartes could." Hadrian blushes a bit.

"To some extent. Not to a supernatural extent."

"So your noses aren't lie detectors?"

"Well. In a certain manner of speaking."

"Mum always said you'd be able to sniff out if we lied."

"We can smell the sweat."

Hadrian nods, a little lazily. "Don't suppose you can sniff us out either. Us? Them." He blinks. "Not sure why I misspoke."

"Psykers? That's much harder."

"So, half my cohort didn't have to hide so hard?"

"Not from us. Almost every Legion uses psykers."

" They do?"

"Not to the same extent we do, of course."

"Mh, must be nice, not having to hide any of it," he says, blinking those wide eyes at Djedkara. Blowing a puff of air as some of his bangs fall in the way.

"It is. On Prospero, I never had to hide. Prospero was a planet of psykers even before. But when I have to suppress it around offworlders, it feels like wearing very tight ill-fitting clothing."

That makes him frown softly. "You have to suppress it? But it's your home. Does Prospero's law not reign over them as well?"

"We try to be more discreet when working with our brother Legions who lack our same enlightenment on the topic. Out of politeness."

"Oh. I suppose that makes sense. I thought you meant offworlders like me."

"Not at all. You don't seem to hold such prejudice."

"My sort then," he says, waving about a hand. Smiling a touch stupidly when it lands on one of Djedkara's very muscular arms.

"Perhaps at first. But you, even I can read."

"Oh, can you?"

"To some extent. I'm no telepath." He repeats.

"How can you read me then?" If Hadrian were more with himself he might accompany the question with a flitting of his eyelashes, or just the right sort of smile. Currently though, all he can get himself to do is not melt into relaxed soup.

"I've practice with facial expressions, and micro expressions. Used to reading my brothers, and my patients."

Patients. He'll have to come back to that later, but right now… "yeah? What are mine saying now?"

"That you're flustered. Uncertain. And aroused."

The blood drains from his face, as Hadrian manages to both go incredibly pale, and blush impossibly hard. "I- I didn't mean to-"

"And I see no trouble with any of that."

That makes him go even stiller, as if breathing itself might make Djedkara change his mind. "You don't?"

"Most of it is to be expected."

"I'm sure everyone just melts in your hands, huh?" He wants to spit it, but there's no actual anger in him. Just embarrassed shame.

"Oh, not many of them."

"Then why-?" Why would it be expected? Can the man just tell he's gotten around?

"I meant to say, being flustered and uncertain is to be expected. You just arrived on planet."

He's silent for a long moment, chewing on that, before: "I've mucked this up even more just now, haven't I?"

"We can put it behind us. I'm to show you your office."

"Please. I… I think I'd like that quite a bit." Things are becoming overwhelming enough to cut through even that uncanny relaxation the man had given him.

It's a tiny room. Lined with bookshelves framing a little desk. There's a small, angled window above the desk, showing a glimpse of the Prosperian sky.

It's perfect. "This is lovely," Hadrian manages. "And I don't have to share?"

"You hardly could, it's far too small."

"It wouldn't be the first time," he says, setting down his bag. "Do I need an escort to the libraries proper?"

"For the first time. If you wouldn't mind my further company."

He takes a deep breath, and steels himself, hoping he doesn't embarrass himself further. "No, of course I wouldn't."

"I thank you for your forgiveness."

"Forgive you? Why would I have had to do such a thing? It's I who should be asking you for yours!"

"I was clumsy."

"Hardly, not a hand strayed where it might not belong."

"Of course not!"

"Then I fail to see what clumsiness you speak of."

"With my words, rather."

Hadrian shrugs. "It's far from the worst I've heard."

"I don't like to hear that."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but it's true."

"Do you often have people take liberties?"

"Not much of a liberty if I asked them," he says, without thinking. And then his face falls. Not all of the liberties taken had been at his request.

"It can be." Djedkara says carefully.

"I doubt I'll run into much of it here, anyway. Not unless one of you decided they want to play 'make the poet pay'."

"That is highly unlikely here. A poet is a respected thing."

"And since I've made it here already, there's not much to make me pay to access." Apart from the libraries themselves, he thinks, but fears saying, lest it happens.

"You have. You've made it to somewhere you don't need to fear."

"I only hope I'll be allowed to stay."

"I see no reason why not."

"Mn, if the paperwork is done wrong, if someone high enough up decides I'm more hassle than I'm worth…" if my work turns out to be crap.

"It's highly unlikely."

"I can only hope you're right."

"Trust me. Just a little bit."

And how can he say no to that? "Alright. I'll do my best to trust you."

"I appreciate it." Now, they stand on the steps of the library.

Hadrian breathes deep. "It's so beautiful…"

"Isn't it? A wonder."

"One known of throughout the Imperium. I've dreamed of this for… well for years."

"Understandable. The steps can be somewhat steep for mortals."

He hadn't even noticed, too excited, too enthralled by being there at all. When Hadrian tries to take the first step up though, he stumbles. "That they are. Suppose your fancy bodies are good for that too."

"We've got longer legs." Djedkara says, half-joking. "Take my arm."

Hadrian does, and a measure of that same relaxedness returns, though far far less. A pale imitation.

Djedkara is warm, warmer than human.

"You'd make a perfect heater, you know," he says, trying not to picture Djedkara stretched out in his bed.

"And to think, I used to run cold."

"That must have been a very long time ago indeed."

"When I was little, and mortal."

"Littler than me?"

"Much. A child, an adolescent."

Hadrian near coos, the thought is so cute. "Oh! Far littler indeed!"

"Before I was taken into the Legion."

"Just a darling boy," and he does coo this time, imagining it.

"Precisely. Just raw potential."

"And sweet, I'm sure."

"I suppose I was always well-behaved."

"Well, you're sweet now, in any case."

"As are you. It's good to have you here."

Hadrian's blush starts up again, and he ducks his head, letting his red mane fall into his face. "Thank you. It's good to be here."

They stand now before the intricate, impossibly tall doors of the library. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I ever can be. Is anyone?"

"No." He pushes the door open. "Never."

Hadrian can't get himself to move, to actually step inside. He peers in, as if the sight alone could sustain him. It's gorgeous, a never-ending labyrinth of stacks, shelves and tables. Even just from outside the door, he can see multiple books worth more than his life.

The lights seem to float with nothing to hold them. The windows glitter.

"I can't believe I'm allowed to cross the threshold," he whispers.

"You have permission."

It shouldn't work, but it does. He steps inside and weeps for all the knowledge he's surrounded by. It's beautiful, and it's endless. And, cause to weep for itself alone, a gloriously well-organized card catalogue along the wall by the doors. As if the library is the pet project of countless minds.

"When I die, it better be here," Hadrian whispers. "I never want to leave."

"You'll have no great cause to. Except for food and sleep."

He looks back at Djedkara, eyes glittering in joy through the tears. "You may have to pry me away for even those."

"I'll make sure to. You've not the endurance of an Astartes."

And oh, if that doesn't put a few new images in his brain, even through the blinding joy of being in the library. He blushes again, and smiles. "Thank you, sir- Djedkara."

"That's better. Some of my brothers like to be called formally."

"I was always told to use proper titles and honorifics for you. That anything less was unbefitting."

"And some agree they should be addressed as such."

"I'll continue to do so unless told otherwise, then," he says, finally fighting down his flush.

"You should, but it's not needed with me."

"Well then, Djedkara, would you do me the honor and show me your favorite book?"

Djedkara, again, almost blushes. Leads him to an almanac of farming, one from Old Terra. "It's a miracle this survived. It records weather patterns that will never exist again."

"It's beautiful, he breathes. "And here we stand, tens of thousands of years after it was produced, reading those same weather patterns."

"It is beautiful, isn't it? The work of such plain hands."

"No! Not plain at all!" A hand caresses the air in front of the book, terrified of the pages crumbling away. "Of dedicated hands, of skilled workmanship. Of countless hours of work. One could never call that plain."

"You see! You see what many others don't."

"Yes! It is s gorgeous book, thank you for sharing it with me."

"You'd have to clean your hands before touching the pages."

"Ah, I'd be terrified to handle your favorite. "

"Some day, you ought to. It might prove inspiring."

He nods. "I will, once I gain More confidence."

"Ever a frightening thing."

"I'd not want to damage any of them, but your favorite even less so."

"I trust your professional discretion not to."

That only makes him flush more, and he looks at his hands. Stacks of rings are slid off, looped all onto a cord, and tucked into his bag. "Point me to handwashing, and then I'll set out to find poetry and literature."

He sets him on a course for a small sink station set aside for just this purpose.

There's something meditative about washing his hands, especially when it's to handle ancient books. The careful scrubbing, the trimming of nails, the warm water sloshing onto his arms.

There are two sinks, one at a height for mortals and one taller.

That makes him smile, the fact they're united in this. His mane is tied back and when he turns around, he looks more like an actual scholar.

Djedkara should leave now. He stares his fill first.

"You know where to find me… Oh! Actually. Am I allowed to take materials back to my office? Or only copies of them?"

"It depends on the materials. Copies, if they are rare or unique."

"As I thought, thank you. And, well, you know where to find me. I'd quite like to get to know you better?"

"Do you have plans for dinner tomorrow?"

"Honestly? Cold bread in my office," he admits.

"I'll make dinner."

If he hadn't been swooning before…. "You needn't go to so much effort on my account!"

"A meeting with a hopeful friend."

"A hopeful friend… that does sound lovely…" he doesn't want to put the man out but truly, how much could he pressure him even if he wanted?

"I'll just make something simple, don't fret."

"I look forward to it then," he says, deciding he'll try.

A simple thing turns out to involve flatbreads, and many sorts of dip.

"Simple, he says," Hadrian shakes his head, stunned. "The bread alone must have taken hours!"

"It was no more than a few hours! And not painful work."

Looking closer at the dips on offer, his mouth falls further open. "Djedkara, dear, it would have taken my family all day to put this all together."

"Or mine. But I move faster."

"And you really didn't mind?"

"I enjoyed it, in fact. It's a bit much to do for myself."

"Well it smells and looks amazing." Hadrian smiles, and sits, waiting patiently to see if there's anything he ought to do before they begin eating.

Djedkara rinses his fingers in a bowl of water, then passes it to Hadrian.

He does the same, and watches, curious, ready to learn.

Djedkara tears the bread into pieces, dipping and folding.

That seems easy enough to do, and Hadrian again copies him, trying not to make a mess.

Djedkara watches, but more concerned than critical.

"We ate with forks," he says, apologetic as more dip drips onto his hand. "This is a new skill I'll have to learn."

"We eat with forks for some meals. Without for some. Would you like one?"

He shakes his head. "Not unless you'd rather I use one." Finally the folded bread makes it to his mouth. "Oh, this is divine!"

"You like it?" Djedkara's face lights up.

"I love it! There are so many flavors!"

"Unused to that?"

"Quite." He takes another fumbling bite, of a different dip this time, and near moans. "So much better than nothing but salt."

"Isn't it? We've some unique spices."

"Now you'll have an even harder time if anyone tries to get me to leave."

"And I doubt anyone will."

Privately, he's terrified his residency will be rescinded if he pisses anyone off, but he nods, and eats more, intent on enjoying the moment.

Djedkara thinks to himself whether a Remembrancer's residency is so fragile.

Hadrian tries another, and gives a happy wiggle. "You've ruined me for all other food, I fear."

"There's dessert, when you're finished. I didn't make it."

"Oh? No doubt that'll be better than anything back at home as well."

"I bought some baklava from a bakery."

Hadrian's mouth waters. "Thats the flaky one, yes?"

"Soaked in honey."

"Djedkara I might pass away out of joy here at your table."

"I'll take that as a high compliment."

He beams at Djedkara, and they continue to eat their fill together.

Djedkara brings out dessert, baklava dusted with rosewater, and with it a question. "Tell me about yourself."

"Mh, well, I'm a poet-translator Remembrancer by trade, as you know. I'm the eldest of three siblings, but I'm afraid I haven't a clue what they've decided to do with their lives."

"Not a pleasant story, I gather. I won't pry."

"People were… unhappy, shall we say, with my career path."

"As I've said, I believe a poet is a fine thing."

Hadrian grins at him. "For which I thank you kindly. You mentioned patients, earlier. Are you also a physician, then?"

"Yes. A battlefield Apothecary, mainly, but in our peacetime, I find I have the luxury to offer care to civilian mortals."

"That's quite noble of you."

"I find it keeps me busy. And keeps me a part of the planet."

He nods, cleaning off his hands. "I suppose you see more of the civilians than most of your brothers do."

"I try to maintain that."

"And to think what level of care you provide…. It must rival what nobles on Terra itself receive."

"I could only hope so. I'm no expert on keeping away aging, or on beautifying."

He waves a hand, half dismissive. "You give people health, surely that's more important."

"I would tend to agree."

"I do hope you having to escort me around today didn't pull you away from them."

"No. It pulled me away from checking papers."

"A welcome distraction then, I hope."

"Deeply. I don't begrudge anyone their coming to our planet, but the work of it..."

"Do they often have space marines doing admin work?"

"More often than you might think."

Hadrian raises a brow, a touch stunned. "Fascinating. Do you not have, well, more pressing matters?"

"Not always, not in our times of peace."

"And here I thought you might have been waiting there special for me," he says, only half teasing.

"Well, you were the most interesting."

His blush deepens, but this time Hadrian isn't embarrassed by it. "I'm glad to have been a respite from bureaucratic monotony then."

"We've had poets. We've had translators. But both?"

"I never understood anyone who could say they were one without the other, if I'm being honest."

"How's that?"

"To write poetry you have to translate your subject into verse, not an easy thing to do, and far from objective. And to translate? No matter the form, you cannot ignore meter, cadence, the innate rhythm each person creates as they speak, as they write, whether it be verse or prose. The art and style cannot be abandoned. You must be a poet to be a translator, else your translations ring hollow."

"I've never heard it put so. But I don't disagree."

"It's why I chose to do both. They felt inextricable."

"It must be an awful lot to hold in a mortal mind. Meaning no offence to mortal minds!"

Hadrian laughs, happy and light. "No, no offense taken. It's a lot to balance, and a lot of work. Part of why few do it."

"You must have an exceptional mind."

"As flattering as that is, it's truly just time and dedication." He leans in, as if telling a secret. "I wasn't even in the top tenth percentile of my class."

"Certainly not!" Djedkara seems shocked.

"Not even close to," Hadrian says, laughing. "I got well enough marks, but I spent plenty of time off doing fuck all instead of studying."

"Ah. A common thing for a brilliant mind."

"A common thing for a man newly let free amongst his new peers," he counters.

"Certainly, that as well."

"Too many late nights and too many mornings spent hazy."

"A common trap. Think not that Astartes Neophytes are immune."

That earns him a loose smile. "Well, they are still near human, yes?"

"And not immune to sweet wine."

"Ah yes, as many find themselves susceptible. I suppose though, that much ends rather abruptly."

"In some cases, if it goes much too far."

Hadrian's head cocks, a curious puppy. "Does it not fade when you…." He hunts for the word, savoring the flavor of various options. "Ascend?"

"The want to indulge in wine? Not every time."

Braver now, his smile turns a touch. "And the other wants?"

"Only evaporate in some cases, if they were ever present."

"It seems my mother likes telling many lies about you all."

"Some mortals don't mean to lie."

"I suppose not…"

"Knowledge of us outside of the Legions is very limited."

"I think, perhaps, you make for a very good boogeyman."

"We do. Inhuman as we are."

Hadrian shakes his head, "no…. Unknown as you are."

"That certainly as well."

"It's easy to lie about a truth no one knows."

"It's why I say we oughtn't be so secluded."

"Nor should, I think, you be nothing but enforcement."

"Certainly not. A waste of us."

"A waste of anyone, but people so lovely as you even more."

"I'm glad your experience has been such."

Hadrian smiles at him, a touch soft. "You've been quite lovely, and everyone better than what I was told to expect."

"The Thousand Sons are kind."

"And I'm glad of it. Even more glad as I'll be living among you for, hopefully, quite a while."

"We can all hope."

He wants so dearly to kiss this beautiful man, but why? It doesn't feel as it had with anyone back at home.

The sun is going down, the light soft on Djedkara's face.

Hadrian leans in, reaching for one of Djedkara's hands.

Djedkara puts a big, calloused hand in his.

"Please, don't resent me," he whispers, clutching that hand and kissing the warrior. Lips soft, open, a gentle touch, but far from chaste thanks.

But Djedkara doesn't pull away, doesn't shake him off in disgust. Leans in.

So, Hadrian deepens it, internally cursing the table half between them.

Djedkara's other hand threads into his hair.

Earning him a delighted little moan, Hadrian leans closer, not caring anymore for any plates before him.

"Come here." Djedkara murmurs. "Around the table."

So, he does, listening oh so well, grinning into Djedkara's lips as he climbs into the man's lap.

"That's it." Djedkara coos.

"Been thinking about this since I stepped off the shuttle," he admits.

"Kissing an Astartes?"

"Kissing you."

"Oh. Would you like to do it again?"

"Very much so. Would you?"

"Yes. Kiss me."

Hadrian does, hungrier now, not near as hesitant.

Djedkara's hand is in his hair, tugging, the other on the smell of his back.

He gets the hint, straddling Djedkara and pressing closer, nothing but contented noises leaving him

Djedkara is hard against him, a handsomely large cock through his clothes.

"Mnh, everything is certainly proportional."

"Ah. I suppose you can feel it."

"It's rather marvelous, dear, don't fret." Hadrian grinds against him, just lightly.

That lovely cock twitches in his hand, sensitive.

"I'm sure your lovers have been quite pleased, hm?"

"I've never had a complaint."

Hadrian kisses at his neck, with little nips. "Probably a bit big for me if you wanted to try today. Though it does feel utterly the perfect size."

"We do not have to try today. There will be other days."

"Other days indeed," he says, giving it a promising little squeeze. "What then, would you like to do today then, if anything more?"

"I'd like to kiss you some more. I'd like a promise to see you again."

Hadrian grins. "That you'll get in spades."

"I'd like to see you at the end of a day."

"I'd quite like that as well."

"We'll meet for another evening?"

"Many an evening, if you'd have me," Hadrian breathes, mouthing at the corner of Djedkara's lip.

"We'll share our dinners, then."

"Please. I want to see you."

"You will. You know where to meet me."

"That I do. Shall I bring anything?"

"Run by a bakery and fetch some sweets, if you have the time."

"I can certainly do that. Pick up some sweets for a sweet boy."

This time, Djedkara does blush. Just a little, a sprinkle of rose over his cheekbones.

Hadrian beams, delighted, and kisses his cheeks where they've pinked.

Djedkara looks a little flustered. "My apologies for my reaction."

"Why? It's adorable." Hadrian kisses his cheeks again, a flurry of them.

"You're very kind."

"And you are very cute."

"Not a word many would use."

"That hardly makes it any less true," he says, now holding Djedkara's face in both hands.

Djedkara smiles at him widely.

He's given another kiss for it, this time licking into his mouth gently.

Djedkara's mouth opens for him.

"I don't want either extreme. Nor do you."

"A nice balance would do us well, I think."

"You'll... you may surprised by what you find when you get me out of my clothes."

"Oh? Are you hiding some terrible tattoo?"

"The Emperor, in all his wisdom, sought to combine the best of male and female in us."

"Is that not how all children are made? A man and a woman?"

"Not all by one who is both at once."

Hadrian pulls back, blinking, searching his face for any sign of humor. "Both at once?"

"Do you mind it?"

"Not at all, I just hadn't expected it, I suppose."

"Many don't. I thought I'd warn you."

"And this is the case for all of your kin?" He asks, rubbing gentle circles on Djedkara's cheeks.

"Yes. Except for the very rare exception."

"Are the words I've been using right?"

"Yes. It's... complicated."

Hadrian nods, pressing another kiss to him, gentle on his lips this time. "If you don't wish to speak on it more, that's alright. If you do, that's fine by me as well."

"Do you mind to listen?"

"Of course I don't mind. I'll happily listen to anything you wish to say."

"I'm not precisely a man as mortals understand it. We aren't, I mean. It isn't specific to me."

"Is there something you feel fits better than 'man?'"

"No. It's the best mortal equivalent. The only term that fits better is 'Astartes'. But you know already to call me that. Man has no sharp edges to it to me."

"Sharp edges…. That's a wonderful turn of phrase for it."

"Woman would. That always felt sharp to me."

"Ah, yes I can see that."

"Even when I was tiny."

He smiles once more at the image. "Darling little boys as that ought not to have to deal with such sharpness."

"I've said as much to many a parent."

"And you've grown into such a beautiful Astartes gentleman!"

"I thank you for your open mind."

"It's not an open mind; it's the facts of you. I'd be simple to not listen to you on it."

"Many people are."

"Fools, the lot of them," he says, tugging them a touch closer. "Who ought loath themselves for missing how lovely you are."

Djedkara smiles. Leans into him.

"Especially with such a lovely man you turned out to be."

"Kiss me, beautiful man."

Hadrian giggles, but he does as he's told, kissing eager and happy and tender.

It's a soft kiss, Djedkara keeping his sharp teeth to himself.

Hadrian curls his fingers into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp all the while.

Djedkara lets out a sweet moan at that.

"Pretty boy needs a head massage soon, doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't say no."

Hadrian thinks, counting forward days, tallying his time. "Perhaps the weekend? I could dedicate proper time to it."

"Would you? That would be so lovely."

"I would love to," he says, entirely honestly, kissing him once again.

"I'd have to take you to my bed..."

That pulls a laugh from Hadrian. "Oh, how dastardly, what a scandal. It isn't as if we've been discussing taking each other for bed for the last bit, or anything."

"Now we have proper plans."

"Proper plans and plenty of time for them," he says between further kisses.

"I doubt I'd fit into the bed they gave you."

He snickers at that image. "Honestly, I have no clue. I've not been to my residential chamber yet."

"You haven't? You must be exhausted!"

"A long day of work, much of it spend you, will never be cause for complaint."

"And travel, too."

"Ah yes, well, the travel has been happening for the better part of a week."

"I know mortals tend to find the Great Ocean quite exhausting."

"Mostly I'm sad I didn't get to see it," he admits.

"Of course, an abundance of caution."

"It must be gorgeous though…."

"Everyone sees something different."

"The colors I imagine are glorious."

"They are. Every colour, and ones that don't exist."

His eyes get wider. "Oh, don't let the rest of the Remembrancer's hear of that."

"The painters, do you mean?"

"All the artists, truly."

"Truly. The inspiration it can be..."

"I hear it drives you mad, though," he laments.

"It often does, if you look more than a glimpse."

"Although I suppose most of us are half mad already."

"Not like that."

"No?" He can think of a few who might be, but he'll not be crude enough to name them.

"No, Warp madness is an awful thing."

"Then I suppose it's good they didn't allow us a glimpse."

"Probably for the best."

Another kiss. "I'll content myself to compose on other things."

"Or even on your imaginings."

"I might even find someone who does know, to see how they compare."

"Many of us have taken glimpses."

"You included?"

"Ah. Yes."

Hadrian laughs. "Daring young man indeed!"

"I saw something like colourful raindrops."

"Maybe you ought to try composing on it yourself."

"I've not the talent to do it justice."

"So you would rather it not exist at all?" He returns to kissing at Djedkara's neck.

"For such a subject? Perhaps?"

"I've heard it said that if it is worth doing, it is worth doing even poorly."

"Perhaps you are right."

"Mn yes, I am somewhat frequently." And he lets his hands explore the wide planes of muscle.

"I ought to listen to you."

Hadrian smiles, giving him a light squeeze. "Yes. You ought."

"You seem wise."

He laughs, more than a little amused. "In this? Perhaps. In life the whole? Absolutely not."

"The best way to live."

"You would know, I suppose." Hadrian sits back, looking him over. "Actually, how old are you?"

"A few hundred years."

He almost swoons. "Oh, that's just gorgeous, innit…"

"Not the oldest of the Legion by any means."

"Oh but you wear it so well!"

"We don't often age noticeably."

"Like a very subtle cheese," he says, nodding.