“Find what you love and let it kill you.”

(OC: Amoreandorin Sablethorn, Sin'dorei, Illidari.)

S̶̡̨̜̮͖̠̖̥̤͉̼̘̟̆͋̿͛̚̕ớ̸̥̦͗̌̀̆̇̒͒̅͊͗̕̚͝F̴̢̛̳̳͌̄̂͒͐̈́́͊̅̈́͋́͘͝t̴̨̙̤͔̪̳̰̗̝̖̯̭̼̼͗̚ͅ ̸̟̣͙̮̜̭͕̝͋̀̊ͅT̶͎̐̈́͒͑͗̊̓̿̀̍̕̚͝h̷̬̘̜͇͔̣͈͆̈́͌I̸̠̘̲̅̀́̄̈́̽̑̈́̍͑̆͒ṇ̶̬̣̤̺̳͎̬͇̱̘͇͎̆͂̒͛͐̈́͜͜G̷̛̭̥̋̓̎̈́͛͒̑͂̊̌ ̶̹̳̠̦͉̈́̾̅̀̕͝ ̴͖̘̖͓͎̦̤͔͓̭̯͑̅̄́͗̈́̐͒̓͌̅̏͗͜͝s̸̢̺̼͛̊̃͒̈̎̊̐͒̆̚͝M̷͎͓̬̖̥̥̫͔̉͐͑͗͘e̸̡͇̗̝̪̬̣̤̮̪̖̍͌̐̇͌̀̋̐͜L̸͖̞̝͙͈̞̤͓̂̑̕l̶̢̡͍̬̲̬̖͇̹̪͙̙̻̅̎͊̑̈͐͂̊͘Ŝ̵͔̿͊͑̂͗̚͠ ̶͍̫̽̀̔̏́̋n̸̹̙̝̪͈̣͚̤̠͔̪̠̤̱͆̒I̴̢̼̤͖͈͎̩̅c̴̨͎̫͇̲̤͉̭͇̤̒͌̏̒́͒̅̇̑̔̓̃̌͝Ę̷̖̜̜͚̯̜̿̑͋́̅̅̎̏́̍̽͊͝͝

Down, boy.

i̴͓̻̲͍͙͗̌̂̕̕͜F̵͙̟̌͆̑ ̷̧͇͔̣̩͔̒̀͑̽̾̚͜n̵͎̗̤̳͐̒Ơ̵̢̛̹̻͍͎̟̼͕̗̊̈́̇̾̾͗t̶̲͙̺̙͇̦̼̲͓͗͐̀͜͝ ̴̬̻̇̽̐̐͐̋̐̾̆̇̈́̓̇̈́͠F̷̛̛̺͖̜̘͚̠̯̟̂̑̆͒̀̓͛̍̈̆̚͝o̸̢̡̟̫̩̣̗͛͆ͅͅR̶̡̡̨̞̗͔͈̮̺͓̱̮͉͒͂̔̌͋̏̂̀́̃̕ ̴̡̧͖̦̱̮͈̺̩͛͊̎͋̊̀̑̈́̋͐͐̏͜͝͝ė̸̢̡͓̼̥̮̬̗̩̜̼̮̝̗̖̃̾̔̽͂́Ȃ̵̡̡̜̣͚̘̱͉̳̠̘̒͂̑̿͋́̉̉̈́̋͂͜ť̵͖͎̽́̒̿͑͒̓̄́͂͐̀̚͝ ̶̧͙̳͈̱̦̳̫̺̘̭̋̇̿ ̴̡̛̋́̀̑̃́͗͝T̵̟̫̒̅́̓̊̌h̷̡̼̻͔̝̮́̐̀̎E̷̮͙̤̦͓̣̭̬̦̽̒̔͋͘͠n̴̳̲̙̗̯͎̋͆̀̊̐̄̈̄̊̌̚͘̕͝͠ ̴̨̧̛͙̰̙̺̩̙̦͇̤̋͆͋͛̂́̅̎ͅW̷̢̳̠̞̭̼̤͇̠̪͚̲̟̗̪͒͛̈́̄͌͊͆̀̉̓̀̂̋̚͝h̸̢̺̘̪̪̙̳̩͇̦̳̓̈̾̚ͅY̵̻̘̮̠͉͛̐̈́̿̏̿͝ͅ ̸̺̫̯͐̓̏̄̑̃́̒͛̇͌s̵̨̨̱̩͎̜̞̍̔̾́̿̿̊̄̐͛M̵̖̤͍͙̟̹͍̦̫̱̅̾̃́̈́̏̎ë̷̢̱̱́̎̑̄́̾̅̈̈́̏̏̚͜͝L̵̰̎̿̇̇͘͘̕͝l̴̡̧̧͈̠͉͚̝͚̖̟̗̱̻̓̄̽̎̎͋̊̆͝͝ ̴̰̳̳͕̦̼͉̲̝̙͕̓̏̃̍͒s̴̛̙̝͔̞͉̬͖͖͑̏̑͂͋̆͌́̈́͐̌̕͘̚Ǫ̴̧͓̲̪̘͇̝̭̬̯̿̃̈́́͛̍͘͜ ̶̨̭͈̟̏̆͌̽́̔̓̈́̈́̎̊͋̄̀͝g̶̝̫͓̪̘̜̘̩͋̔͋̃͑̄̽͗͒̚Ơ̵̳̲̏̎͒̍̆́͑̒̾̈́̈̅̎o̸̧̧̡͉͔͚͔̤͕̱͖̖̜̟͆̓̄̆͂̿̆̅̈́̕͘ͅD̶̨̘̱̭̬̻̬̹͙̘̯̫͚͊̌̌̏̏͝?̷̨̨̝̪̩̉̈́͆͑̓̅̀̐̿̾̿̄͝

"We've been over this, Shithead." Reasoning with the beast wasn't possible, and if people saw him talking to himself again... well, the nobility was relatively accepting of the Illidari - as accepting as his people could swallow being; but talking to oneself in public... especially at night? - is always frowned upon. But it felt weirder somehow, to only converse in his own head? There was no winning, with sharing one's body, really. He knew what the damned thing meant, though. Didn't like that it felt the same way he did - but then, how much of WANT was him, and how much was it, anymore, really?

He hadn't meant to take charge, and start handing down direction, but... his own sister had just come 'back from the dead' so recently. Years... years of thinking she'd been dead - thinking it was his fault. That he shouldn't have become Illidari, because at least then he'd have died with her. She wouldn't have died alone, and cold and lost in a land she didn't know. It's just what you do, as the eldest - and as a big brother. You give your little sister room to grow, and fail and learn - but you're there when it matters.

Their Prince had split them. One, a renowned Spellbreaker to join the Illidari. One, a prodigal Magistrix to go on the mission to 'defeat' the Lich King. They were supposed to be doing the family name, and Quel'thalas, proud - it wasn't supposed to end how it had - because the Prince hadn't returned from that trip with anyone who had left with him.

Amoreandorin had been too far along, too deep in becoming Illidari at the time - and in a way, losing his eyes had been a boon... no more crying - only fury, pain, and rage to fuel him. The pain of losing his little sister... his one real responsibility in life... this person who'd spent her whole life looking up to him... on top of the defeat and rape of Quel'thals by Arthas. It had all been so heavy, back then.

The Magistrix had hit a chord that was already tender - Vynamue had reconnected recently. She'd come back from the dead, in her own way - even without his eyes, he'd known her just from... something. His gut. He'd seen that magical signature, then he'd heard her voice - all these years later, he knew it. Knew her.

She'd been enslaved to the Lich King, at first... and if the fucking Kaldorei hadn't imprisoned him... he could have gone to her, back then. Could have looked for her. Saved her, brought her home sooner... instead, he'd sat in fucking stasis thinking about how it was his fault she was dead, now... and his family line would be wiped out. His mother would be alone in the world, having lost everyone.

By the time he was back in the world, among the people... so much had happened that she had long since been presumed dead - and something in him wanted to remind this blushing Magistrix how... precious that is. Not just anyone gets a second chance to kick ass - but she's among those special few.

g̴̯̜̫̰̣̯̬͚̳̹͖̑Ǒ̴͇̦̓̄̀͐̂̀́̇̂́͗͂͝ ̴̧̖̞̙̀ḃ̸̨̢̨͇̞͇͔͕̩͍̰̤̖̙͜Ā̶̢̩͚̭̝̤͍̦̻͙̫̼͚̈́̀̔̔̔̽̏̈́́̕͠͝ç̸̨̢̛̛̮̬͍̣̻̖͂̽̓̅̎̋̓̂̊̊̔̕ͅK̵̦̭͔̥͈͈͙͒̅̉̈́́̀͜ ̶̨̝̜̮̺̪̽̾̂͛͗͂̒ ̸̭̣͔̫̤̉̓͐́́̍̉̎̈́͆͝s̴̠̜͔̎̿͋͊͛̽̈́̔̔̚͝M̷̨̨͍̩͔̟͇̞̻͕̹̎̽͒̈̈́̈̿̀̍͠͠ȅ̶̱̪͈̐̂͊͛̌͝ͅL̴͔͙̬͔̻̼͚̪̝͍̓ͅl̶̢̤͓̲̲͚̼͌́̍͊́ͅS̵̛̍̈́͋̄̽̈͑̿̈́͜ ̸̖̖̠́̏g̸̣̝̯̯̘̙̠̈́̓̋̈́̀̾̽͜Ô̴̰̝͗͊̍̔͐̆̀̋̌̐̆̕͝ǫ̷̧͈͙̻̝̗̝̤͕̽̋͂͛͛D̵̛̺͐̑̀̓̍̀͆̈͐͝

Even thinking about her sets the dog to barking.