Ankyra Sound imma break that birdy's neck

the banter between them was almost like friends. illidan's head turned from his mother to the dark male at their borders with a mask of confusion that had come close to permanently etching onto his dark features. he wasn't sure if their chat was good or if they were sizing each other up. it seemed, though, that the former drageda wolf was something of a sweet-talker in the sense that he did not wish to beat around the bush. his vocalized respect for caiaphas was the most surprising statement that had been offered, but the ghost did not pull from it and he did not comment on it directly.

“none of your pack mates were there to help you?” his question seemed to slip without any control. he had not wanted to ask that. he hadn't wanted to bring up the fall of the cliff-side pack, but his mind had conjured the query without much halt or reason. illidan had imagined them to be an immovable army – diligent in their protection of their land and each other. he had hated them, but he had not thought that they would simply disperse without their family...

glancing toward his mother, illidan felt an overwhelming sense of dread. he did not want to disappoint her, but he was not so skilled in the art of tactful shit-talking. he still did not know if they spoke words of hatred at each other, or if there was truly a modicum of respect between the two beasts of the water. he darted his gaze back to the looming male with a clenched jaw. “won't your hatred cloud your mind? or do you believe you can truly serve beneath the pack you fought in war?”