[ Believe it or not, Koltira was an even-tempered man when he was alive. Reasonable, virtuous, jovial. Given to laughter and (gentle) pranks. If he was angry, it was only in service to justice, to the righteous protection of his homeland and family. He was never brutal, he was not driven by revenge or hatred. He could not fathom such things until he was remade, and to think that Achilles felt even a fraction of Koltira's undying fury--as a living man--astonishes him.

He mutters, eyes widened slightly. ]

The curse of grief, perhaps. I cannot know if I would have done the same, had I survived the destruction of my homeland.

[ He shakes his head. ]

But I did not, and I was raised with rage ever burning in my chest. Quelling it is a battle I cannot always win, no matter how hard I try.

[ He starts moving about, gathering the tools he needs to make the necessary repairs to the armor. ]

But I do try. Tasks like these are a great help.

[ He pauses, and adds finally -- ]

Thank you for your understanding. Not many here offer it.

[ Nor does he expect them to, really. But he's grateful when it happens, nevertheless. ]