Part of Anduin registers the reason in what she is saying, and he turns ever-so-slightly back toward her. But he does not move further from his position by the rails, his grip resting far lighter than it should.

"I don't..." Anduin begins, raising somewhat from the spell he has fallen into.

Come, my child! the voices sing to him again, more insistent this time. You are weary, from your journey. Join us, child. We will rock you to sleep in the ocean's sweet embraccccce...

Anduin turns back toward the railing. Toward the plank, and the swirl of the water beyond. A part of him, the part buried deep that has not surrendered to the spell, it knows that this is wrong. Something is wrong. But he is so very tired. His mother and father are gone now -- and a kingdom is waiting for him, back at home. To be their king, their leader. But Sylvanas Windrunner is still on the loose, they have only just returned from yet another war and a battle with the Old Gods, and even his advisors question his decision to sign the peace armistice with the Horde. How long will it last? When will the next big problem arise? Will he be ready? He just needs... To rest...

"I need... rest," he echoes, taking a step forward.