*Kioet grabs the fanciest-looking bottle, opens it and pours himself a glass*
Kioet: This better be poisoned.
*Kioet picks the glass off the table and drinks*
Kioet: a little strong...
*Kioet pours himself another*
Kioet: ...but not strong enough.
Battle is a pure form of expression. It is heart and discipline, reduced to movement and motion. In battle, the words are swept away, giving way to actions-- mercy, sacrifice, anger, fear. These are pure moments of expression.