Ankyra Sound a gunslinger knows pride - that invisible bone that keeps the neck stiff

it was strange how his return to the coast had inspired a strange sort of honesty in others while referencing him. for a moment, the young man thought it wildly odd that grezig would compare him to a natural phenomenon. his mind pictured the crash of thunder and the rippling of dismal grey across the endless sky. she said that she wasn’t sure that she wanted to witness the storm that arrived with him. for a moment, this admittance rooted him. he repeated the words in his head like a disc stuck on the same track.
 
all that he could remember was the white woman. you have no soul, he reminded himself inwardly. and then he realized that he could not blame grezig for wanting to keep her distance. it seemed that she had found a family for herself. she was creating the life that she wanted, and he really did not have a place there now that he had been reunited with his blood mother.
 
“perhaps that is an apt description, then,” he agreed with her in a solemn tone. the dark-hooded young ghost turned his head away from her for a moment, trying to regain some of his composure. “imagine how it must feel to carry that storm inside of you,” illidan then stated in a gravelly tone. when he turned back to her, his features were firm and sad. there seemed to be a permanent state of misery that clung to him. it had become so deeply apart of him that he was not certain who he would be if it were to vanish.
 
as if it were crying out against the confines of its ribbed cage, illidan swore he could feel thunder booming from inside of him. “you found yourself a mate, then?” he attempted to ask, trying to change the subject away from himself. he had never been fond of speaking about his own ways.