[Warden FilterIf you catch Arthas up on deck, he's not allowed up there. I really don't know if he's still violent anymore. In any case, please let me know if he's up there. He still has a few more days in Zero
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[Well, he was expecting to have to see him in the first place. The sound of mail jingling and plate against the floor announces his arrival in Zero once again, and he stops in front of Arthas' cell.]
[Arthas, fully renewed with unblackened skin and bones that aren't showing through it, is still curled up in the epicenter of the scorching and smoke damage that has ruined his cell, probably the exact spot where he died. He doesn't seem to care that he's getting his own grease and ashes on his clothes.
He doesn't respond when Tirion walks up. He's breathing, though. That's a good sign.]
[Tirion shifts to sit on the floor in front of Arthas' cell, laying the Ashbringer across his legs and just watches the death knight for a moment before speaking up.]
[Tirion let out a sharp breath at the confirmation of what he guessed. He had hoped Arthas would settle if given a few days, not be driven to kill himself.]
[The tone was deadpan, but he was picking at what appeared to be the remains of a finger on the floor. The charred nub was a bizarre contrast to the healthy white hand, considering it was the same person.]
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He doesn't respond when Tirion walks up. He's breathing, though. That's a good sign.]
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Why, Arthas? Why did you do that?
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I remember everything.
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[Tirion let out a sharp breath at the confirmation of what he guessed. He had hoped Arthas would settle if given a few days, not be driven to kill himself.]
Arthas, killing yourself isn't the answer.
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[He curled in tighter on himself.]
I'll do whatever I damn well want.
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And I'm going to bring you back, every time you do.
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[Tirion runs a hand through his hair, somewhat frustrated and at a loss.]
I've also taken away your ability to make any of private or posts to individuals, except to myself.
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[The tone was deadpan, but he was picking at what appeared to be the remains of a finger on the floor. The charred nub was a bizarre contrast to the healthy white hand, considering it was the same person.]
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... And how was I supposed to be able to help you as you were before?
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I can't live like this either.
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You just had... everything dumped upon you. It's not something you're going to be able to deal with overnight.
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