[ Koltira's emotional landscape is a wasteland. A phantasmagoria of rage and hatred and despair, of pain that spikes in his blood and hisses in his ear and never, ever stops. He grits his teeth as Tary's distress pushes up against him, the force of his energy, his vitality. ]
I cannot.
[ It's not merely a bitter man's question of what he has to be happy about. Peace eludes all death knights; its thread was frayed and severed upon their resurrection, and its gentle cousins fared even less well. Koltira's head throbs as the ship jerks this way and that, its path just as erratic and miserable as the two people inside of it. ]
no subject
I cannot.
[ It's not merely a bitter man's question of what he has to be happy about. Peace eludes all death knights; its thread was frayed and severed upon their resurrection, and its gentle cousins fared even less well. Koltira's head throbs as the ship jerks this way and that, its path just as erratic and miserable as the two people inside of it. ]