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/tg/ - Traditional Games


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>> No.53718810 [View]
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Sanguinius is beauty

>> No.53419316 [View]
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Official theme of this thread:

>> No.52724767 [View]
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>The dinner is supposed to be a formal affair. A gasping attempt at civility before this world becomes part of the Imperium.
>Leman Russ eats like a man possessed, his lack of table manners spilling as much food as his axe does blood.
>Horus schooled his face into a diplomatic slate at the sight and carries on an impressive conversation with the would-be-kings of this world.
>You can tell his real feelings when his hand slips under the table.
>He grips your thigh through the soft layers of your robes with a strength that would have broken lesser creatures.
>You wish you could have said something to ease the warmaster's displeasure, or subtly tip off the brute. But you can't.
>Instead, you wipe your lips with a napkin as cover and gently place your hand over his, squeezing it briefly before returning to your meal.
>His grip gradually lessens, lingers, then leaves your thigh.
>You don't look at him.
>You don't look at Leman.
>You don't stop the smiling and small talk.
>You don't stop the small gasp that left your mouth as his fingers trailed away from the rivers of silk covering your lap.

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