#i wrote this stream-of-consciousness style so it may not be fully coherent idk

[aelf-hlaf]

Stripped paint off my half-finished Guardians so I can paint them as Altansar instead of Saim-Hann as I originally planned. And now it's got me thinking about lore...

Saim-Hann wild riders on a diplomatic visit to Altansar when the eye of terror opened. Honor-bound to remain there and fight as the warp dragged it in. Centuries later, still wearing red, the occasional white helmet spotted in a squad. Still centuries later, those colors become rarer and rarer: some perished, but others repainted their armor themselves. Did they do it as a gesture of unity with their comrades? Or as a final acceptance that here is the only place they can ever hope to find companionship again?

Milennia pass, and Altansar is freed. One night a sole remaining rider in red departs through the webway. Returns to his home. He is older than even an eldar should be, and they scarcely remember him. Still, they celebrate. He pretends their boisterousness doesn't make him wince. They pretend not to see the unfamiliar runes thrice-etched on every surface of his once-familiar armor. The celebration ends and he tries to settle back into routine. They pretend not to stare at him. He pretends not to notice. He goes out riding, like he used to. Tries to join in the howling exhilaration of his companions, and still cannot raise his voice above a whisper. The wide, open plains make him paranoid without a wall to his back. He pretends he's just rusty, that he'll settle back in in time. He pretends he is the same as when he left. He pretends he is home now. After a week, he stops pretending: he leaves his white helmet at the foot of his bed, wordlessly, and rides the webway home again in black, maroon and bone.