Wrathion frowns at the first comment, then slowly lifts his eyes as the Doctor clarifies.
The last of his kind. The reason for it.
Not something he expected, in truth, from the man's demeanour. Then again, do people expect it from him? He couldn't say. What manner should someone who had done such a thing even have? What would be expected?
Blood is not always visible on hands, even when you can feel it. The stain of it, the creep of corruption.
"Not everyone has the stomach to do what must be done," he offers. "Sometimes, some of us must stand alone against the darkness so that others may bask in the light."
Just The Right Amount of Suffering
The last of his kind. The reason for it.
Not something he expected, in truth, from the man's demeanour. Then again, do people expect it from him? He couldn't say. What manner should someone who had done such a thing even have? What would be expected?
Blood is not always visible on hands, even when you can feel it. The stain of it, the creep of corruption.
"Not everyone has the stomach to do what must be done," he offers. "Sometimes, some of us must stand alone against the darkness so that others may bask in the light."