Gloomy? Purple, and gloomy. Illidan couldn't help some vague amusement at her, although he was not certain if it was at the expense of her embarrassment or her strangely apt description of himself. He couldn't argue with either assessment although he could hardly remember now just what shade of purple he was. Thinking of his twin was easier, and he recalled an average and uninteresting shade, neither light nor dark.

"Your friend has the same coloring as I?" he thought to ask, although again he went on not much expecting an answer and instead asked what he was more curious about. "And what color do you have? Merrill the Lost."

Illidan pushed himself up to stand then, turning so that he was more fully and properly facing her. He tried to imagine what she would look like but nothing much came to mind except young, female, with a very strong sense of magic. He cocked his head slightly, his visage not directly facing her now as his intention was to listen more closely to her voice.