Wrathion shoots Emilia a hesitantly confused look. He did not expect her help, in this, but then again Wrathion does not expect help from anyone. Wrathion has ever been alone, has made himself an island fortress. Secure, unconquerable, uncaring of what happens outside his walls --

Except he does care, deeply.

"I --" he begins, and hesitantly moves closer. He feels... weak. The room is doing something to him. He blinks slow enough to be a squint, wary, but trying to follow her direction. "We have to leave," he repeats, but he sounds more uncertain now. Should they leave? What if there is some purpose to this punishment? What if he can learn something, by enduring?

Alexstrasza cannot be here, but if she was she could help them. Could this imitation of her, weak as it is, still be enough to inspire something?

"Running from your problems once more?" she taunts, and Wrathion grits his teeth to resist snapping back a response.