Blacktail Deer Plateau he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father

the pale woman mentioned that she had once had a similar mindset. she had changed, then. his stern expression latched onto her, and he tried as best as he could to imagine what it would have been like to see liri without the emotions she carried to heavily on her shoulders. illidan was not certain if it was better to live without happiness or constantly in search of it.

liri explained to him that she would not mention happiness again. he found this odd, and his brow furrowed over his hawkish yellow eyes. illidan shook his head at this, showing that he disagreed. “you may talk about whatever you want. it doesn't bother me, either way,” the dark-hooded boy explained to her. he did not want her to adapt her speech for him, not when he did not find that much investment in it.

“i live because my instinct demands it, not because of desires. there are not many things that inspire someone like me. my motivation is in keeping myself strong and capable so that nothing should harm me or those around me.”

it was as simple as that. illidan was not bothered that he didn't carry around a meaningless inspiration. he found his strength and his power in improving himself. in just a month's time, he had become a young and formidable thing. though he dared not to admit it, the young man wished to grow into the shape of what his father was – what he could remember of the ashen ghost.