[ He speaks like he understands, claims that the drifter has a heart—and then the Wanderer understands, too. Understands that the architect has never truly known him, because of course, how could he? He doesn't know the Kabukimono, or the Balladeer. He can't know what's been removed from Irminsul—what he deleted with his own hands. The puppet has a heart, Kaveh claims, and he knows then that mortals could only pretend to understand the immortal. Just as he will never be one of them, they will never know him.

And still, he claims that he can bear the weight the Wanderer carries. So desperate he is to bleed for a heartless puppet, even though he has someone else next to him who values him more than anything in the world.

It makes him unbearably, indescribably angry.

It starts as a low chuckle, a faint shake of his shoulders as he comprehends the utter absurdity of the situation. Then, it grows, louder, uncontrolled, crazed, as he laughs harder than he ever has before, as the Wanderer. Laughs like he's the Balladeer again, a broken puppet in the throes of a mad dance. He laughs for a long time, but eventually he manages to calm himself enough to speak. ]

Tell me, pathetic mortal. What makes you think you're worthy of bearing my silence? My condemnation? My grief? What makes you think your puny fragile existence could withstand even a fraction of what I've gone through? I was not made to mimic a human, or did you forget already? I was made to be a god.

And you will pay, for thinking you could measure up to a god.

[ Without a warning, he lunges at Kaveh, hand outstretched towards the architect's neck. ]