Everything was so familiar, and yet so strange. A pilgrim class vessel, she hardly needed a map, she had spent so many months on vessels of the exact same design that she could walk the corridors with her eyes close. On the way through the Calixis Sector towards Scintilla. She wondered briefly every time that destination came to mind if history was going to repeat itself. It tended to do that. At least more scholarly types than her told her. Frankly it wasn't a concern. They had an insane number of combat servitors, storm troopers, and probably scarier things than that on board. Go ahead Xenos, come get her. I'm sure that would go well for you once more.

Her room was spartan, as she was as well. Beyond the furnishings that were built into the room, there wasn't much there. A rack for sleeping built into the wall, a small place where she had left her devotional icon serving as a simple, crude shrine to the Holy Emperor, and the slightly worn bit of deck plating where she had been doing her daily devotionals to the Master of Mankind. Even for the Ecclesiarchy her robes were simple, plain black with gold trim and embroidery, marked with the sign of the Aquila and simple purity seals to the Saints and the Emperor stitched into the robes. Hardly the bejeweled, lush, luxurious robes that higher ranking priests might have had.

She was used to people knocking and leaving stuff in her room. She lacked a Chrono, or a Vox-Feed, or much of anything really that helped her mark the time. Usually someone had to fetch her for meals, or remind her of when Services were about to start. Even with years of Void Travel under her belt, there sheer lack of Sun and Wind, the external clocks that measured time still got to her. She'd seldom realize she had been up for days or missed several meals until she was nearly faint and exhausted. In this case she heard the door open, and turned to see a slate dumped out onto the deck just inside her room before it closed. She closed her eyes for a moment, didn't feel faint from hunger, or tired. Did she miss services? Didn't seem right. She frowned as she padded over towards the slate, reading the short and terse missive about reporting for duty.

A quick glance at the map, a shrug, and she stowed the slate for later. She was bounding out of her room, down the corridor at a cheerful pace, practically skipping down the hall. It felt good to be out of the cell for a bit, the combat servitors didn't bother her... after all, she was a legitimate passenger, or the stormie boys. She gave a few of them a smile and cheerful wave as she skipped down corridors, up ladders, and made her way to the War Room.