Felix Caelus

Harrowheart quickly gathers up his blades and pins them down with one hand while the other one points stiffly at Felix's face.

"I didn't say you were tryin' to take 'em," he whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I said they're not yours. You don't touch a death knight's runeblades. Things can go bad. Real bad."

He glances sideways at the blades as if implicating them in all of this. And honestly he might be. He knows them better than anyone, after all. Knows their limitless desire for something new to own. He drops his accusatory hand from Felix's face and raises both blades to inspect them. It's not as if the spell changed the way they look, and soon he finds it hasn't changed the way they feel, either. Not physically, not magically, not mentally. With some lingering reservation he returns the blades to their ties at his hips.

It takes some self control to look at Felix again. He wants to be angry with him still, but he knows he can't be. Felix has done him a great service and put his own safety on the line for it. It wouldn't do to take out more of his anxiety on the man. And besides, they're in an anti-violence rune within an anti-violence field. A total change of subject seems better than lingering on his sudden misgivings over all of this.

"I owe you now," he says, his voice wooden and forced. "That's the deal. Right? You did this for me, and now I owe you. So? Are you ready to cash in? Or do you need a while to think up who you want me to kill?"