#people from the mid-layer have the suffix 'aeddon'

[bitchofsteel]

Working with gene-kin was a surprise, but a welcome one. She was well aware of the rarity of her own kind; even her Noosemen were mostly plucked from the child-survivors of raids given pirated gene-seed. Gene-kin were rare but another survivor of the Long War was rarer still. Her own status as one should be immediately evident to him. Her people idolized the past through their armor festooned in bones of friend and foe alike  and the  symbols of a glorious yesteryear. Freyja’s own suit still bore the jade and brass of the Sons of Horus, accented in black and a blue deeper than the ancient Terran sea. Her people’s emblem resembled the lunar wolf of old, with a few modifications. The wolf’s head wore three eyes; one per side and the open eye of Horus in the center. Rather than a moon in its jaws, the wolf chewed a gilded serpent that surrounded its head like an ouroboros. “He is more than fit for this job.” Said Freyja, slipping into the rough and guttural dialect of unholy Cthonia. Her accent marked her as a denizen of the upper tunnels, as did her surname, not that Skalagrim knew it. “I have not met you before, brother. Where do you hail from; the upper or lower world?”

"Your people ruined me!" Freyja accused, pointing to incision scars along her right arm that could have only been the handiwork of a third legion Apothecary.

"Your underlings gave me this affliction and you will undo it!"

Her flesh was marred by hundreds of self afflicted scars, memories of lacerations and puncture wounds she'd wrought in an attempt to relieve her thirst for pain. Thousands of years ago, she'd been spared the shame of a dishonorable death.

This was the cost.

@bitchofsteel

It is rare to get an emotional response from the Chief Apothecary. He tends to be almost notoriously secretive and his will to deny Slaanesh even the slightest sacrifice in the form of feelings is ironclad. But this time he seems to allow himself an exception. A smile as if cut into his face with a scalpel shows amusement. He puts his fingertips together and rests his chin on them. "Do you know the old Terran tale of the people who wanted to eradicate a nick by cutting it away? That's the perfect analogy for your situation. Of course I can cut off your arm and replace it with a weapon of your - or better: my - choice. This is no more than a finger exercise. But what exactly is the point?"