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He…
Perturabo could not finish that thought.
All he could do was stand there and stare at the severed head that was within his hands. So powerful was the feeling that he had that he could not comprehend what he was feeling. Such mighty emotions were not meant for a mind to even understand but instead solely to act upon. Perturabo had only been able to feel this when it came to his rage and anger. Powerful emotions that should not have been neglected.
Only when the emotion began to reach the spectrum of what a human should have been able to feel that Perturabo realized just what it was he was feeling.
Grief and sadness.
He had been paralyzed with grief and sadness so immense that it was unmeasurable. But now he measured it and for that he could understand it.
His legs buckled from underneath his feet. Armored knees dipping themselves into blackened blood of a mechanical being. Perturabo could feel the machines within the blood of TalOS attempting to reassemble the Primarch but they could not do so. As if like a child Perturabo took the head and settled it next to the next stump, but the machines did not rejoin the head to its body.
Filled with grief, at the realization of what he had done, Perturabo roared. He cried for the lost of his brother, a man who he could never regain. The man who had given him the light of day during his own petulant tyraids and understood who he was.
As he wailed Perturabo regained his senses and as such could see inside the room.
Upon the throne of Dammekos was his hag of a Sister, Calliphone. In the fight that had erupted in her throne room she had seen too much, expiring upon the throne. Thus the geneline of Dammekos ended, with Perturabo being the only survivor of that Family.
Perturabo sat there, cradling the head of TalOS within his arms as he cried.
>Cont…
