The question startles Anduin slightly, his blue eyes widening in surprise. It isn't that he's surprised that Wrathion cares, just that -- well. He isn't exactly in the practice of asking such things, or talking about them at all, if he can help it.
Anduin's kneejerk reaction is to respond the way he normally would if someone else would ask. Of course! He's fine. Of course he is fine. He's spent enough time chiding Wrathion about telling him the truth in the last while that he can hardly turn around and not do the same.
He turns to look out towards the ocean for a long moment, gathering his thoughts.
"I... Can't help but think that the Merchant brought us here for a reason," Anduin says at last.
"It was intended as a lesson, since he believed us indifferent to the stakes."
Wrathion turns his gaze back out toward the sea, thoughtful.
"Would you have acted differently? Having seen this."
Would he have killed Rigarda, instead of handing her over? Does the sight of what the undead here are capable of change anything for Anduin? Surely he is quite aware of the consequences. The scourge, Sylvanas Windrunner and her use of Blight -- they are all things known within Azeroth. Yet perhaps seeing it here is different, seeing it is not better than they feared. Not perhaps some mild uprising, but true destruction.
Anduin is quiet for a long moment, pale blue eyes focused out towards the breaking waves.
"You advised me, back then, that Taravast is not Stormwind," he says at last. "Walking the streets of Ellethia, I... Found it difficult not to draw comparisons. To think of Lordaeron... Everything that happened there once, long ago. And not so long ago, at that." He takes in a breath, letting it out slowly. "Sylvanas proved herself capable of using the Blight against her own capital city. I have no doubt that she would not hesitate to use it against Stormwind, if given half the chance."
He turns back towards Wrathion. "I have seen cities raised to the ground before. Just because I will not blindly follow the instructions of a man whose first order is one of murder… It does not mean that I am indifferent to their plight."
"Understanding their plight is one thing, agreeing to send tribute regularly to your aggressor is quite another -- especially knowing they will destroy other cities all the while."
That is, after all, what Rigarda had been doing. Keeping Taravast safe by arming the undead legions so they might continue to decimate other cities.
"That is what Macaluso may well now do, after all. He may see no other way to stop his city being destroyed. Yet equally, had Rigarda not lived, he may not have known what methods he could employ to save Taravast. The city had no standing force, it may have been destroyed. An unknown potential or a known one. There may be another way, but Taravast is not Stormwind. We do not know enough to guess the right path. Were this Stormwind we were speaking of, you would known all your options. Evacuation to Ironforge. Assistance from the Grand Alliance, seeking reinforcements from the Kirin Tor. You cannot make the decisions here for another, you can only use your best judgment."
Even if that judgement is often difficult to make.
Anduin's gaze falls to the sand by their feet as Wrathion speaks. He is right, of course. And if Anduin had been in a similar position, agreeing to such an arms deal with the enemy would not be the way that he would choose to resolve such a situation, no matter what.
But he is not the leader here, and in the end...
Anduin moves to cross his arms across his chest. Normally a defensive posture on others, it feels a little as though he is curling in on himself.
"Do we know who he is?" Anduin says, at last. "He calls himself the Merchant but do we know what true business he has collecting us otherworlders? Shepherding us across the land?" Anduin's frown grows deeper, harder. "I cannot help but feel as though... We are but an unlimited crop of expendable assets. Pieces on his board. You ask me if I would have done any differently, when the truth of the matter is that I would have done nothing at all, if that man had not come to me -- me, Wrathion -- with such an ask. How could I even have known? And now he brings us here, like it is some sort of punishment."
He turns to look out across the ocean again. "It is as you say. One can only ever do their best with what they have in front of them."
Wrathion's gaze flicks back to Anduin as the priest frowns at the sand, then back out at the sea. This closed off body language is unusual on him, yet not unheard of. Usually it speaks of stubbornness, of defiance, yet Wrathion detects none of that in his tone. If anything he seems... anxious, perhaps? He cannot quite put his finger on it.
"Do you believe you are being treated like a pawn?"
That was his chosen identifier on the lockets, after all. Wrathion twitches a weak smile, tilts his head.
"A shame, given a king is normally the most important piece on the board. If the merchant chooses to use you recklessly, he risks losing his own game -- don't you agree?"
Anduin turns back to Wrathion as he speaks, only catching the pun at the twitch of Wrathion's lips, feeling the sudden urge to roll his eyes at his companion once he has. Honestly, he really should have come up with a better identifier, although now that it's done...
He can't say that he doesn't feel as though it isn't accurate. It's part of the reason he's always hated the code name as much as he has.
Anduin raises his eyebrows slightly at the rest of what Wrathion has to say. Since Taravast he has felt as though there was a band around his chest. Like a chestplate fastened too tight, it has been difficult to get a deep breath in. Whether that is from the weight of his uncertainty, or his guilt, his worry, his loneliness, or -- some combination thereof, Anduin cannot say entirely. The strap of that band loosens half a notch however, at the implication behind Wrathion's words.
"I suppose he may be at a disadvantage," Anduin says at last. "I for one have certainly not shared my position back home with anyone here, least of all the man himself."
"Your manner hardly begets the image of a common trade worker."
They may not know, officially, who he is -- but Wrathion suspects most people think Anduin some sort of nobility. His outfit often has parts of his fine clothes from home, he is well spoken, well groomed and has all the outrage against injustice born of privilege. People more used to it tend to be less surprised and frustrated.
Still. That is something to consider. Anduin's position, after all, has another aspect to it -- who might know they are from the same world. Wrathion has been little inclined to ignore Anduin, so people no doubt are aware they are friendly.
Their benefactor has yet to turn on them directly, but there is... always the possibility.
"Hermione is aware we share a history," he points out. "And Slick. They don't know your position there, but they do know we are both of the same world."
Anduin ducks his head for a moment, self-conscious at the fact that no, he can't entirely turn it all off and just... Be a normal person, despite his best attempts. He has been raised to take up the crown since infancy. Just because he does not feel particularly fit for the position does not mean that he is not still... a king.
He glances back to Wrathion, frowning at the rest of what he is saying.
"I... Have not spoken of our connection to anyone," he says. Not even Hermione. Though he supposes it's inevitable she's put the pieces together. Anduin concerns himself with the well-being of strangers and acquaintances often enough, but. It had been rather obvious from the start they'd known each other. Anduin never has been very good at keeping his emotions to himself.
He hesitates at that, understanding dawning.
"I suppose that I would not have to, would I?" he realizes aloud.
"No," Wrathion allows gently. "I don't believe you would. However, if we are to be treated as pieces on a board, we should be aware of what people know about us. I don't believe our nameless friend above manipulation."
He's willing enough to give them tasks, to use them. Wrathion would not be surprised if he decided to apply pressure in getting them to fall inline. The easiest way to do that is to aim for weak points. Wrathion doesn't have many, but he's very aware of one.
Anduin frowns, unhappy with the fact that he has unwittingly endangered Wrathion simply through their association. The alternative, of course, is not associating with each other at all, and he isn't much keen on that idea either.
He supposes they're just going to have to be as careful as they can, and look out for one another.
"No, I don't suppose that he would be," Anduin agrees. He considers this for a moment.
"He will know that I am a healer. I have not been secretive about my abilities. And," he glances aside at Wrathion, "he will likely have seen our rescue of those people out on the water." And how desperately Anduin had worked to try and save them.
"I've kept the majority of my talents hidden, but I doubt that will last forever."
It feels only a matter of time before something pushes him over the edge. He folds his arms, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the thick material of his coat.
"There may be fallout, once it all comes to light."
People may vilify him, may question why he didn't intercede in previous circumstances, may call him a liar. May fear him. May think him dangerous.
"You understand why I didn't cross the water."
A statement, but also a question -- Anduin at least understands, yes? Even if the others may not.
Anduin wonders in retrospect if perhaps he shouldn't have done the same. If he shouldn't have been more careful to reveal the truth about his own skills to the otherworlders in their group. He has even gone so far as to explain them, to some.
He cannot help himself, though. When they had needed him, he had to help. Time and time again. He is a priest, a healer, and it really is as simple as that.
His expression softens slightly at Wrathion's question. Saddens slightly, at that.
"I do," he says, gently. "It is wise to be cautious of such things, until we know better how the people of this world may respond."
Wrathion's fingers tap against his coat sleeve still, eyes dropping uneasily back to the shoreline.
"I upset you, before."
A statement again, not a question. He understands that Anduin was upset, he doesn't need that part emphasising. It's more a question of... understanding.
Something that has, quite recently, burned him -- the desire to understand. Approaching these things has always been difficult for him, a game of tolerances and balances. The desire to understand balanced against the embarrassment and the difficulty in knowing how to learn what he did wrong, to understand enough to fix the situation.
Anduin hesitates, at that. He has had some time, and space, for his feelings on that day to settle on their own. Yes, settle is perhaps the best way he can think of describing it. The frustration, anger, hurt, and fear he had felt on that day have not gone away. They've just... Settled. Or perhaps it is he who has settled into them, he supposes.
There's no point in lying to Wrathion to spare his feelings. The idea of it is frankly insulting, and so after a long moment, Anduin nods, a frown settling its way across his features once more.
"Yes," he replies. He falls silent for a long moment as he considers exactly how best to elaborate on this statement, before settling on, "I understand that we still have... Differences between us that we have yet to settle. But you shut me out. If you and I are only able to trust each other in this place... Then where does this leave me, if you will not give me your trust? Where does it leave you?"
Wrathion lifts his eyes and blinks at Anduin, trying to play back the conversation. Had he done that?
An uneasy sensation clenches in his stomach again. Navigating these conversations always feels more difficult, somehow, with Anduin. Like his own words might trap him any moment.
"I meant no offense," he says finally. Should he say more? Would saying more help, or would it make things worse? Titans, he's getting no better at... handling emotions. At knowing how to express them. Sometimes it feels as if he might be getting worse now that he's more aware of his own limitations.
Anduin meets Wrathion's eyes, reading the uneasy expression written across his face, and lets out a soft sigh.
"No," Anduin agrees, "I understand that you only meant to protect -- us both, in a way."
He studies Wrathion's face for a moment longer, hoping that he is not pressing him too hard as he continues, "You put yourself in danger on that day, Wrathion. Perhaps it does not really matter to you, especially given the hindsight of your full recovery, but. I had just explained how worried I had been for you, and you countered by telling me that you'd taken a calculated risk. It is hard not to be upset about such a thing."
Wrathion's expression pinches in concentration, as he thinks. Does Anduin believe that he doesn't appreciate his concern, or care for it? Does he not trust Wrathion's judgement, in calculating this risk? Or --
"You do not believe I should take risks?" he hazards.
Perhaps that is it? There should be no risks at all? He is not... certain he can keep to that, if that is the case...
Anduin presses his lips together, doing his best to be patient with Wrathion. It's clear that he is really trying to understand this. He had asked, not because he wished to bring it up again, but because he wished to make sense of what had gone on between them on that day. He does appreciate Wrathion making this effort, really he does.
"I think it is inevitable that risks are taken," Anduin elaborates. "Especially in such a place as this. But I..."
He hesitates for a moment, uncertain of how exactly to explain himself, before he settles on, "It will always upset me when you are in danger, Wrathion. That is part of what it means to care for someone."
Anduin glances away, uncertain whether he can meet Wrathion's eyes and answer such a direct question at the same time. Wrathion always has been observant, even if he has not always understood just what it is he is seeing.
It seems, however, that he is putting the pieces together well enough.
"I believe..." Anduin says, slowly, "that you have spent a great deal of time on your own, and you have had to learn how to prioritize in certain ways because of it. I cannot say those ways are wrong, for they have kept you safe as long as they have. But..."
Anduin hesitates, pressing his eyes closed for a moment, before he glances back up to Wrathion at last, searching his face as he continues, "I don't believe you to be unmoved by my distress, Wrathion. But you are wary. And I can't help but feel as though you are guarding yourself -- from me, I suppose. Is it really so difficult to be close to me? Have -- I done something wrong?"
Hesitation colours Wrathion's features, then he frowns slowly -- flits his eyes out toward the water once more.
"I was under the impression the role of repentance was mine, not yours. The last we spoke in Azeroth that was made quite clear to me."
What has changed, really? Wrathion has not explicitly been forgiven, has not been pardoned for his crimes against Anduin Wrynn and Azeroth both. He doesn't think anyone would claim the bounty put out on him by Varian anymore, unless they were particularly bold and foolish, but it would be nice to have it formally withdrawn.
It would be nice to know exactly where things stood.
Anduin takes in a long, deep breath, letting it fill his lungs and hoping it will give him the strength and fortitude he needs to answer this without ruining whatever tentative truce they have already built between them.
"Just because you have hurt me does not mean that I do not still care for you, Wrathion," Anduin says. He had figured that much had been obvious but. Perhaps it is best to say it out loud, for both their sakes?
Anduin frowns softly as he continues.
"And I suppose the truth of it is that… I don’t want your repentance, your guilt. If you want to make up for what was done then I would rather have the dedication of your companionship. The rewards are far greater. That is, if you truly wish to make amends."
Something flickers across Wrathion's face -- surprise, then a narrowing of his eyes. He feels his pulse begin to race in frustration.
If you truly wish to make amends.
Titans, even now that's still in doubt?
He lifts his chin imperiously, forces his shoulders to drop.
"You already have my companionship, Anduin," he insists. "You are the only person who has ever wanted it. Everything I have done has been to make amends -- for my actions, for my inactions, to forge a new legacy for the Black Dragonflight. If it is not enough, I accept that, but know that making amends is all I have worked for."
Yet now, Anduin discards it so easily. I don't want your repentance, your guilt. As if it means nothing.
His chest feels tight, fingers curling until they dig into his palms. Wrathion's emotions always seem to run hot, when dealing with Anduin. They tangle more confusingly, and he finds he has to sit somewhere quietly afterwards to make sense of it all. He feels -- hurt, he thinks? Anduin likely did not intend that, not when also claiming he cares for him and wants his companionship. Wrathion supposes he has, somehow, given Anduin the impression he doesn't want that. He isn't sure how, when he thought he was doing all the right things, but given his lack of experience in the field it isn't a surprise he'd mess that right up too.
Rationalising doesn't appear to be making the sting fade.
He knows he is getting emotional because he has to hold his tongue, to bite back a comment he knows would only seek to bite. And it isn't his intention to hurt Wrathion, it isn't. It's just...
"That is just it, Wrathion!" Anduin counters, his voice rising in volume along with the tightness in his own chest. "I do want it! But every time I ask for you to let me in, each time I hazard to call you friend, you pull away. You made an error in judgement, back then, and it cost us both dearly. But you need to stop using what happened to continue to punish yourself, or we will never be able to move past it."
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Anduin's kneejerk reaction is to respond the way he normally would if someone else would ask. Of course! He's fine. Of course he is fine. He's spent enough time chiding Wrathion about telling him the truth in the last while that he can hardly turn around and not do the same.
He turns to look out towards the ocean for a long moment, gathering his thoughts.
"I... Can't help but think that the Merchant brought us here for a reason," Anduin says at last.
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Wrathion turns his gaze back out toward the sea, thoughtful.
"Would you have acted differently? Having seen this."
Would he have killed Rigarda, instead of handing her over? Does the sight of what the undead here are capable of change anything for Anduin? Surely he is quite aware of the consequences. The scourge, Sylvanas Windrunner and her use of Blight -- they are all things known within Azeroth. Yet perhaps seeing it here is different, seeing it is not better than they feared. Not perhaps some mild uprising, but true destruction.
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Anduin is quiet for a long moment, pale blue eyes focused out towards the breaking waves.
"You advised me, back then, that Taravast is not Stormwind," he says at last. "Walking the streets of Ellethia, I... Found it difficult not to draw comparisons. To think of Lordaeron... Everything that happened there once, long ago. And not so long ago, at that." He takes in a breath, letting it out slowly. "Sylvanas proved herself capable of using the Blight against her own capital city. I have no doubt that she would not hesitate to use it against Stormwind, if given half the chance."
He turns back towards Wrathion. "I have seen cities raised to the ground before. Just because I will not blindly follow the instructions of a man whose first order is one of murder… It does not mean that I am indifferent to their plight."
Rather the opposite, in fact.
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That is, after all, what Rigarda had been doing. Keeping Taravast safe by arming the undead legions so they might continue to decimate other cities.
"That is what Macaluso may well now do, after all. He may see no other way to stop his city being destroyed. Yet equally, had Rigarda not lived, he may not have known what methods he could employ to save Taravast. The city had no standing force, it may have been destroyed. An unknown potential or a known one. There may be another way, but Taravast is not Stormwind. We do not know enough to guess the right path. Were this Stormwind we were speaking of, you would known all your options. Evacuation to Ironforge. Assistance from the Grand Alliance, seeking reinforcements from the Kirin Tor. You cannot make the decisions here for another, you can only use your best judgment."
Even if that judgement is often difficult to make.
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But he is not the leader here, and in the end...
Anduin moves to cross his arms across his chest. Normally a defensive posture on others, it feels a little as though he is curling in on himself.
"Do we know who he is?" Anduin says, at last. "He calls himself the Merchant but do we know what true business he has collecting us otherworlders? Shepherding us across the land?" Anduin's frown grows deeper, harder. "I cannot help but feel as though... We are but an unlimited crop of expendable assets. Pieces on his board. You ask me if I would have done any differently, when the truth of the matter is that I would have done nothing at all, if that man had not come to me -- me, Wrathion -- with such an ask. How could I even have known? And now he brings us here, like it is some sort of punishment."
He turns to look out across the ocean again. "It is as you say. One can only ever do their best with what they have in front of them."
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"Do you believe you are being treated like a pawn?"
That was his chosen identifier on the lockets, after all. Wrathion twitches a weak smile, tilts his head.
"A shame, given a king is normally the most important piece on the board. If the merchant chooses to use you recklessly, he risks losing his own game -- don't you agree?"
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He can't say that he doesn't feel as though it isn't accurate. It's part of the reason he's always hated the code name as much as he has.
Anduin raises his eyebrows slightly at the rest of what Wrathion has to say. Since Taravast he has felt as though there was a band around his chest. Like a chestplate fastened too tight, it has been difficult to get a deep breath in. Whether that is from the weight of his uncertainty, or his guilt, his worry, his loneliness, or -- some combination thereof, Anduin cannot say entirely. The strap of that band loosens half a notch however, at the implication behind Wrathion's words.
"I suppose he may be at a disadvantage," Anduin says at last. "I for one have certainly not shared my position back home with anyone here, least of all the man himself."
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They may not know, officially, who he is -- but Wrathion suspects most people think Anduin some sort of nobility. His outfit often has parts of his fine clothes from home, he is well spoken, well groomed and has all the outrage against injustice born of privilege. People more used to it tend to be less surprised and frustrated.
Still. That is something to consider. Anduin's position, after all, has another aspect to it -- who might know they are from the same world. Wrathion has been little inclined to ignore Anduin, so people no doubt are aware they are friendly.
Their benefactor has yet to turn on them directly, but there is... always the possibility.
"Hermione is aware we share a history," he points out. "And Slick. They don't know your position there, but they do know we are both of the same world."
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He glances back to Wrathion, frowning at the rest of what he is saying.
"I... Have not spoken of our connection to anyone," he says. Not even Hermione. Though he supposes it's inevitable she's put the pieces together. Anduin concerns himself with the well-being of strangers and acquaintances often enough, but. It had been rather obvious from the start they'd known each other. Anduin never has been very good at keeping his emotions to himself.
He hesitates at that, understanding dawning.
"I suppose that I would not have to, would I?" he realizes aloud.
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He's willing enough to give them tasks, to use them. Wrathion would not be surprised if he decided to apply pressure in getting them to fall inline. The easiest way to do that is to aim for weak points. Wrathion doesn't have many, but he's very aware of one.
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He supposes they're just going to have to be as careful as they can, and look out for one another.
"No, I don't suppose that he would be," Anduin agrees. He considers this for a moment.
"He will know that I am a healer. I have not been secretive about my abilities. And," he glances aside at Wrathion, "he will likely have seen our rescue of those people out on the water." And how desperately Anduin had worked to try and save them.
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It feels only a matter of time before something pushes him over the edge. He folds his arms, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the thick material of his coat.
"There may be fallout, once it all comes to light."
People may vilify him, may question why he didn't intercede in previous circumstances, may call him a liar. May fear him. May think him dangerous.
"You understand why I didn't cross the water."
A statement, but also a question -- Anduin at least understands, yes? Even if the others may not.
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He cannot help himself, though. When they had needed him, he had to help. Time and time again. He is a priest, a healer, and it really is as simple as that.
His expression softens slightly at Wrathion's question. Saddens slightly, at that.
"I do," he says, gently. "It is wise to be cautious of such things, until we know better how the people of this world may respond."
For better or worse.
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Wrathion's fingers tap against his coat sleeve still, eyes dropping uneasily back to the shoreline.
"I upset you, before."
A statement again, not a question. He understands that Anduin was upset, he doesn't need that part emphasising. It's more a question of... understanding.
Something that has, quite recently, burned him -- the desire to understand. Approaching these things has always been difficult for him, a game of tolerances and balances. The desire to understand balanced against the embarrassment and the difficulty in knowing how to learn what he did wrong, to understand enough to fix the situation.
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Anduin hesitates, at that. He has had some time, and space, for his feelings on that day to settle on their own. Yes, settle is perhaps the best way he can think of describing it. The frustration, anger, hurt, and fear he had felt on that day have not gone away. They've just... Settled. Or perhaps it is he who has settled into them, he supposes.
There's no point in lying to Wrathion to spare his feelings. The idea of it is frankly insulting, and so after a long moment, Anduin nods, a frown settling its way across his features once more.
"Yes," he replies. He falls silent for a long moment as he considers exactly how best to elaborate on this statement, before settling on, "I understand that we still have... Differences between us that we have yet to settle. But you shut me out. If you and I are only able to trust each other in this place... Then where does this leave me, if you will not give me your trust? Where does it leave you?"
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Wrathion lifts his eyes and blinks at Anduin, trying to play back the conversation. Had he done that?
An uneasy sensation clenches in his stomach again. Navigating these conversations always feels more difficult, somehow, with Anduin. Like his own words might trap him any moment.
"I meant no offense," he says finally. Should he say more? Would saying more help, or would it make things worse? Titans, he's getting no better at... handling emotions. At knowing how to express them. Sometimes it feels as if he might be getting worse now that he's more aware of his own limitations.
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"No," Anduin agrees, "I understand that you only meant to protect -- us both, in a way."
He studies Wrathion's face for a moment longer, hoping that he is not pressing him too hard as he continues, "You put yourself in danger on that day, Wrathion. Perhaps it does not really matter to you, especially given the hindsight of your full recovery, but. I had just explained how worried I had been for you, and you countered by telling me that you'd taken a calculated risk. It is hard not to be upset about such a thing."
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Wrathion's expression pinches in concentration, as he thinks. Does Anduin believe that he doesn't appreciate his concern, or care for it? Does he not trust Wrathion's judgement, in calculating this risk? Or --
"You do not believe I should take risks?" he hazards.
Perhaps that is it? There should be no risks at all? He is not... certain he can keep to that, if that is the case...
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"I think it is inevitable that risks are taken," Anduin elaborates. "Especially in such a place as this. But I..."
He hesitates for a moment, uncertain of how exactly to explain himself, before he settles on, "It will always upset me when you are in danger, Wrathion. That is part of what it means to care for someone."
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Only it hadn't seemed that way, in the moment. It had very much seemed like something Wrathion had said was the cause of Anduin's distress.
He hesitates, squints a little in thought, then goes back to a previous concept:
"Do you believe me unmoved by your distress?"
Is that what had upset Anduin? He thinks Wrathion simply doesn't care?
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It seems, however, that he is putting the pieces together well enough.
"I believe..." Anduin says, slowly, "that you have spent a great deal of time on your own, and you have had to learn how to prioritize in certain ways because of it. I cannot say those ways are wrong, for they have kept you safe as long as they have. But..."
Anduin hesitates, pressing his eyes closed for a moment, before he glances back up to Wrathion at last, searching his face as he continues, "I don't believe you to be unmoved by my distress, Wrathion. But you are wary. And I can't help but feel as though you are guarding yourself -- from me, I suppose. Is it really so difficult to be close to me? Have -- I done something wrong?"
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Well --
Hesitation colours Wrathion's features, then he frowns slowly -- flits his eyes out toward the water once more.
"I was under the impression the role of repentance was mine, not yours. The last we spoke in Azeroth that was made quite clear to me."
What has changed, really? Wrathion has not explicitly been forgiven, has not been pardoned for his crimes against Anduin Wrynn and Azeroth both. He doesn't think anyone would claim the bounty put out on him by Varian anymore, unless they were particularly bold and foolish, but it would be nice to have it formally withdrawn.
It would be nice to know exactly where things stood.
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"Just because you have hurt me does not mean that I do not still care for you, Wrathion," Anduin says. He had figured that much had been obvious but. Perhaps it is best to say it out loud, for both their sakes?
Anduin frowns softly as he continues.
"And I suppose the truth of it is that… I don’t want your repentance, your guilt. If you want to make up for what was done then I would rather have the dedication of your companionship. The rewards are far greater. That is, if you truly wish to make amends."
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If you truly wish to make amends.
Titans, even now that's still in doubt?
He lifts his chin imperiously, forces his shoulders to drop.
"You already have my companionship, Anduin," he insists. "You are the only person who has ever wanted it. Everything I have done has been to make amends -- for my actions, for my inactions, to forge a new legacy for the Black Dragonflight. If it is not enough, I accept that, but know that making amends is all I have worked for."
Yet now, Anduin discards it so easily. I don't want your repentance, your guilt. As if it means nothing.
His chest feels tight, fingers curling until they dig into his palms. Wrathion's emotions always seem to run hot, when dealing with Anduin. They tangle more confusingly, and he finds he has to sit somewhere quietly afterwards to make sense of it all. He feels -- hurt, he thinks? Anduin likely did not intend that, not when also claiming he cares for him and wants his companionship. Wrathion supposes he has, somehow, given Anduin the impression he doesn't want that. He isn't sure how, when he thought he was doing all the right things, but given his lack of experience in the field it isn't a surprise he'd mess that right up too.
Rationalising doesn't appear to be making the sting fade.
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He knows he is getting emotional because he has to hold his tongue, to bite back a comment he knows would only seek to bite. And it isn't his intention to hurt Wrathion, it isn't. It's just...
"That is just it, Wrathion!" Anduin counters, his voice rising in volume along with the tightness in his own chest. "I do want it! But every time I ask for you to let me in, each time I hazard to call you friend, you pull away. You made an error in judgement, back then, and it cost us both dearly. But you need to stop using what happened to continue to punish yourself, or we will never be able to move past it."
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