To those who I encountered during the flood, let it be known that I bear you no ill-will for anything that passed.
[And that's all he really wants to say on the matter.]
[Private to the Admiral]
I require the following ingredients from my home world: [And here follows a list of various herbs and such from Melniboné.] I require as well a charcoal
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[He looks up, sharply.]
No you didn't.
[Please say you didn't.]
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[He presses hands over his ears, but doesn't get much further - the headache rises into splitting pain and when he looks up again he has an ugly scowl. He slowly straightens, and reaches out to shut it off himself.]
Fine. Yes, I still want it. But you're not going to be happy with that idea, I assume.
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Nor will be Stormbringer. And nor would you, in the end. It would only bring you misfortune, assuming that if suffered you to bear it in the first place.
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[He leers.]
And how can it make me suffer when my only goal is to kill?
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Do not be a fool, Arthas. I will not let you do this thing, and should you try, I will ensure that you are restrained and punished.
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[He looks less certain, though, and the hard lines go out of his posture.]
What the hell is happening to me, Elric? I don't want to do this.
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Eight years? Nine?
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It's an object, not a disease. I shouldn't need to recover.
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Shut up. I can control this. I'll prove it.
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