"Calm down first, all right?" Loken's voice was gentle but firm. He reached out and lightly pressed a hand against Abaddon's shoulder, trying to get him to sit back down.
"Father is holding a war council. He'll be here soon. Rest for a while and recover some strength. You can barely stand in your current state. How are you supposed to see Father like this?"
Abaddon opened his mouth to argue, but his legs were indeed trembling slightly. His body had yet to fully recover from more than a decade of slumber.
He gritted his teeth and finally sat back down, bracing his hands on his knees. With his head lowered, he took deep, ragged breaths, trying to steady his breathing.
Before long, measured footsteps sounded outside the meeting room.
They drew closer, their rhythm distinct, every step carrying an effortless authority.
The door swung open, and Horus appeared in the doorway. He still wore his command dress uniform, the golden Laurel Wreath emblem on his breastplate gleaming beneath the lights, but there was a hint of haste in his expression.
Clearly, he had stepped away from the council to hurry over.
Lorgar followed behind him. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded, studying Abaddon with a hint of curiosity and scrutiny.
"Father." At the sight of Horus, a joy Abaddon could scarcely conceal flashed across his face.
He sprang from his chair. Though his body swayed as he rose, though his legs were still weak, he did his best to stand straight, chest lifted, eyes fixed on Horus.
His voice held the excitement and affection of a wanderer finally reunited with his family after years away.
Horus approached Abaddon and let his gaze linger on his face, taking in its lingering pallor and exhaustion.
"Abaddon, you're awake.