I didn't need to see to anything. He was far too eager to do it to himself.

[ He doesn't laugh, but cruel mirth curls his thin lips all the same. His eyes fall half-lidded with it—or perhaps with that dagger-clawed touch, Lucius' teeth parting wide enough for a hot sigh to escape between the cage of their enamel. ]

Far be it from me to call anyone else overweening, but the simple fact of the matter is that his reach exceeded his grasp. [ One of his own claws teases at Eridanus' upper lip, hooking beneath the thin scar long ago etched into its skin before it skims away once more. ] Eidolon was a man so hungry for glory that he would bungle a golden opportunity in the pursuit of it, and then blame the man who handed it to him for shining brighter in the primarch's eyes after.

[ He speaks of himself, of course, and his smile pulls broader with the memory whether he realizes it or not. ]

It's nearly enough to make a man question Fulgrim's judgment in ordering Fabius to reattach his head. But, I suppose he did have a role to play in our father's apotheosis.