<<And you, Myitt. Tara. I'm glad to have your friendship.>>
Ossanlin's main eyes favor Jeffry with a look of cool detachment...the mask he's perfected to hide strong emotions. <Running away? You think that abstaining from using an ability too powerful for mortal hands and mortal minds is running away? How easy would it be for me to return to the timestream and stop Seerow from EVER communing with Yeerks?> He turns his eyes on Dalik. <Or to alter time so that your species never even exists? Either would stop the scourge of the Empire before it even starts. Countless lives saved, an entire galactic war averted, a deadly game of Gods completely subverted.> He turns his main eyes back to Jeffry. <Are you saying that such an end would justify planetary genocide?! I'd be no better than Alloran. Sky forgive me, but how could any being with even the smallest appreciation for life possibly think that such an act is not only acceptable, but should be perpetrated where possible?>
He turns his main eyes back to Dalik. <And you...power is a tool to be used? You would never know, perhaps never even exist, but assuming you would and did, do you really want me to confine your species back to the murky pools of your homeworld never to see the light of the stars, or hear the wash of the breeze through the grass? Or to cause your entire species to never exist at all? If my power is a tool, then it can do any and all of that. The only thing that stops it is me.> Ossanlin abstains from mentioning that those actions, having taken place long ago, would likely require more power to change than he could summon even now. The point, however, is still valid.
Ossanlin feels the convulsions coming on again, but this time forces himself to ascend in a controlled fashion, fur, hooves, and tail-blade turning silver, blue eyes turning bright gold and glowing once again with an inner light. He keeps his shudders under control, though the pain is immense. He levitates a knife from the bar counter, holding it up so that both Dalik and Jeffry can see it, hanging in mid-air. The knife has seen better days, but it still gleams a dull silver.
<This power could destroy you...your entire species.> Ossanlin accelerates time around the knife dramatically and the thing tarnishes, rusts, and then disintegrates into brown powder in no more than two seconds. He lets the powder fall back to the bar counter. <And you...mind-bender. Your power kills you if you don't use it...but harms others when you do. The noble man would simply abstain and absorb the consequences.> Ossanlin closes his eyes, fur and irises reverting to blue, tail to pearl-white, and hooves to black.
He takes a deep breath, once again opening his eyes. <Be careful what you wish for.>
Ossanlin turns back toward the bar, taking a deep drink from his bowl. The knife, unlike the rest of the bar, does not mend itself. The BT flashes Ossanlin a dangerous look that almost seems to border upon surprise...perhaps the BT himself had underestimated the strength of Ossanlin's newly widened connection to the Ellimist. The knife had been exposed too strongly to the element of a foreign entity. The BT slowly wipes the brown rust powder from the bar top, sweeping it into his hand where it seems to disappear.
A few moments later, Merc's arm turns to fire. Ossanlin loosens his katana in their sheathes and stiffens his tail, but makes no other moves...if William and the Yeerk wanted to engage in some sort of cross-dimensional pleasantries, he surely would not stop them, but Merc seems like a bit of a loose cannon...although something about William's suggestion seems to have set him off. The man had, after all, shown Ossanlin kindness and compassion earlier.
