[ He'd love to say yes, but as it is Wrathion only tilts his head towards Wangji. ]

No, but I think we both know who their true goal is. I can make myself an appealing option.

[ Which sounds oddly like he's trying to seduce the jatharin, but lets not think about that. He frowns in thought, considering. He can't really make himself an exact duplicate because that way is madness, and the looming possibility he is slowed or stopped by someone who truly believes he is Haiva or Deimar. Glittering smoke wraps itself around Wrathion, a surge of hot, intense magic.

When it dissipates, the red is gone from his eyes. His hair is in soft, platinum-blond strands that fall entirely straight down to his shoulders and any trace of beard or moustache is entirely gone from his face. His eyes are a murky green, and his face pale with the sharp cheekbone structure of a sin'dorei he met once in Pandaria. He sighs. ]

This really isn't my style, but if it works do make sure it doesn't catch me.

[ Don't mind Wrathion, he's just going to wade through this terrible cold water and try and put himself in the path of the jatharin. ]