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00:53:04
Ricky Whittle, Emily Browning, Crispin Glover
11
It's all bollock anyway.
JINN: And Mad Sweeney?
You see me here as Kali-ma, the nurturer?
I know some ifrit in Chicago.
and that a dead woman's bauble would seal my fate.
Mourners are always bringing by their best food.
calamus and cinnamon,
frankincense and myrrh.
The Gray Monks are poison, pestilence;
Oh, well, wait 'til the maggot
The friendly faggot and the maneater
Well, you told me you were a leprechaun, so which is it?
This is gallows ground you're walking.
back to the morgue, huh?
Your shoots are orchards of pomegranate,
That is the rotten stench of a broken heart.
for leaving us their leftovers,
I knew Ibis'd have some Dijon around here somewhere.
henna, saffron,
Don't think I don't know who you are, banshee!
What is your name, lass?
henna, saffron,
Your lips drip with nectar, my bride;
Two drops of blood "infuse with love"
you been shoving down your fuckin' throat!
Head forged by the dwarves, the shaft carve from Yggdrasil.
already loot the place.
and drown them all in the lake.
We have a contract, which you have not fulfil.
I beg you to change with it.
Told me I'd be undone and abandon west of the sunrise,
Touch me again and I'll be haul you
Then I spear one of his priests.
I owe a battle.
So, the fucker curse me.
I warn you.
I adapt. We all do.
Head forge by the dwarves, the shaft carved from Yggdrasil.
Told me I'd be undo and abandoned west of the sunrise,
the moment the dead wife stole my treasure.
That smell like a hot bottle of whiskey and sex in an alleyway.
Because of you, they survive.
And I laugh and I poured more barley wine
It stretch from heaven all the way down to hell.
- Oh, shut the fuck up! - [ groaning ]
...until Mother Church arrive,
Yggdrasil is ready for war; ergo, I am ready, too.
Figured you just took the coins out of nowhere.
You can literally pull gold out of the air
I knew Ibis'd have some Dijon around here somewhere.
for somebody who's gonna live forever.
You most certainly are not.
Wise choice. This is not exactly piquant.
But you, dead girl, perhaps you would understand me better
Sometimes, I remember things one way.
I do 'em because I fucking owe him!
took His body deep down into their own bodies,
I'm asking you to make alliances instead of enemies. That's all.
The grieving women outside? Yes.
It changes too, and soon, we will have a child.
The further you get from her...
I hate that one-eyed cunt more than you will ever know.
Mourners are always bringing by their best food.
in a funeral home is you never have to cook.
Touch me again and I'll be hauling you
Yggdrasil is ready for war; ergo, I am ready, too.
Of course, the little second-generation assholes,
You know, I wouldn't go around, if I was you,
It stretches from heaven all the way down to hell.
No more bottomless holy hole?
which means... the proverbial shit is about to hit the fan
Monstrous beings that came from under the sea,
so much as imaginative recreations.
raging egos like yours.
The damned Gray Monks were never our allies.
Sometimes amazed we can sit at the same table.
And influential.
The shining one, they called you.
Oh, how rude of me.
These are not literal constructs
the pagan warrior, the mad man,
to a rotten little dead girl
The Gray Monks seem peaceful.
Her aim true and always fatal.
That goddamn voudon. Always so dramatic.
...is the most sacred gift one can make.
You can keep whatever's precious to you.
You're fucked, man.
in a funeral home is you never have to cook.
People get sad at a funeral home.
of some grand plan, you stupid cunt!
♪ When you know I'm mad about you and you play upon it ♪