#nimue the geneva convention is not a checklist

[nereidof40k]

Asmodai stills, staring into the library. Over in the music section, he can see a familiar blonde head, and a sparkly crozius.

Nimue is at work again. He really doesn’t want to draw her ire. He still remembers the battle brother she drove mad. Quite apart from her terrible, loud tastes in music, she’s very creative. She had hidden sets of small speakers in the battle brother’s quarters, playing music at random times when brother Abdiel was trying to meditate or rest.

He presses himself against the wall behind a statue, trying to pretend he’s not there. As she picks up the stack of records.

Asmodai swears he feels his hearts clench like in a gauntleted fist when she calmly comments “Good afternoon, Chaplain Asmodai” as she breezes past.

Sweeping into the room overlooking the cell, Nimue sets the records next to the aging player.

She starts by setting the music to low enough that it’s barely audible to Astartes hearing, the player’s slightly crackling sound making it hard to tell if it’s real or a hallucination. The heretic will crack, she is sure of it. And in the meantime she gets to hone her skills.