[Diarmuid is weeping, nearly insensate in Cu Chulainn's arms, and he can find no proper words to answer the other Lancer, the object of Diarmuid's affections. His own voice sounds hollow to his ears. Waver Velvet's body is cooling in his arms.]

Yes, he is Silent-- he is dead. I can only think he could not get his breath, for I never touched him with my blade. I only sought to restrain him.

Not this. I swear it.

[But his Master is speaking and he find it so strange to turn there for discipline, for reassurance, when he has never sought these things from this man before-- yet he does.]

I did not wish to harm him, Master. He simply would not stop-- no matter how I warned him or fended off his attacks.

I only wanted him silent. Master-- I must beg your forgiveness as well.