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A secluded corner of the sewers was where she found him, hunched over the ground watching a rat nibble on a used condom. L&R often enjoyed to observe very simple acts in life, having been holed in the Shadow Realm for so long. Jacinthe approached the wraith, using the end of her sword to drive through the rat and end the focal point of his attention. "We need to speak," is what she said to him as the spine was effectively severed, and all movement ceased to undergo through the tiny body.

"About that monstrosity you dragged out of the Shadow Realm? No thanks, peaches," was his response as his body folded in on itself and he slid his back down the wall until he sat on the floor. "I thought I would have been the worst you pulled out of there. Honey, I think you took the cake with this one. Right fucked in the head."

He was pushing her away, verbally. He was writing off the discussion. After a year together, the Killer knew when her wraith was content and when he wasn't. "It is not my interest whether it is agreeable to you, or whether it is not. That is not the topic I wish to open up at the moment. We should speak about Day, first. Your action was aggressive and it was not thought out. There are consequences for threatening or attacking - as it could be interpreted - a vampire. You are endangering the rate of existence for you and I. That is intolerable. " Her sword was propped against the wall first so she could put herself beside the shadow dweller. The ends of her hair bleed out color; it was a recent development since scouring the Shadow Realm for Command. It happened inside that negative version of their Harper Rock, and it had been noted to happen when nearing her wraith. In the sewers, she needn't worry about humans watching the red fall out of the follicles to leave behind the stark white throngs of hair. It's working to her roots, it's never been a drastically speedy process. Almost as if someone was trickling water over dye and it washing away, leaving just the base. That tether to the other realm pulled at her but she stifled it enough to only carry around its presence; it's the same presence that drives out the pigments that attribute to make Jacinthe, Jacinthe. It sucked the other hues in the things around her. In plants, in peoples and objects. Being around L&R triggered this the same way being around Command sometimes did. This was more consistent, it happened nearly every time.

"So he can grab at your *** all he likes?" The cracked surface of his skin reminded her of the scales of a dragon. He's talked about the condition. There was a fire that blazed, that consumed him once. He cannot recall much of the details, just the flames. The Killer had a running theory that this fact implanted in the wraith's history was a factor in his dislike of Command. Command often spoke of Harper Rock caught up in endlessly burning flames; it was a city of ruins, and he was king of the ash piles that the element left in its wake. "I'll cease when he learns to keep his ******* grimy hands to himself."

"Your aid and your inability to see past your emotional crutches are more destructive than Day's palming." L&R's irrational pathways of thought could sometimes cut into the one definitive emotion she could recognize by name: Anger. The tiny seedling of annoyance put tension in her muscles and made them swell. "If you choose to not cease, you risk the existence of vampires in Harper Rock," and the tone, for once, matched the feeling behind it. It was stern, it was final. "If you continue, there is a chance that humans will discover us as a whole. They will hunt us, they will kill us. You will be the hand that facilitates in my death. You do not know the ultimate effect that will have on you. Whether my death will mean you come back to the Shadow Realm with me." The last point was used with the intention of driving home the importance of his actions.

He paused, he also wouldn't look at her either. L&R was undergoing an emotion that she was unable to ascertain based on the vague expression that wrinkled the cracked span of flesh that made up his face. There was a hefty sigh that caused his shoulders to sag into his body and that curled into itself. "You deal with him, or I'm going to continue bucking that stupid *** of his right back." In a way, it was a confirmation that the ultimate message was received. "I should head out to look after your bag of walking crazy."

"We will meet together soon, in order to compare observations then."

L&R didn't wait, nor did he leave her with any sort of quip like he normally did when he departed.

Something was still wrong.

It conjured pictorials of the tyrannosaurus rex, the jagged teeth of differentiating lengths. Droplets of underground moisture plopped to ripple the layer of stagnating water from their ends. After hearing about the caverns and the dwellers she could use as practice and to train with, Jacinthe took up residence in the explored caves. Consistency was important as was her location, although no matter where she was, L&R found her.

She was in the midst of cleaning her blade with a piece of cloth from her most recent kill when the rogue’s voice announced his unseen attendance:

“You’ve been here a lot; I’m surprised your skin doesn’t match your hair, Snow White.”

His mood, by comparison to the last time they exchanged words, came off much improved.

“I came here to question you about the new one.”

He meant the additional childe. His name was Lucas Drow. His personal characteristics still have yet to be disclosed, even to herself. His weaponry usage and tactics were what drew the Killer to crave another descendant beneath her.

“What types of questions have you formulated for me?”

The scaling skin of his hand peeked out from the corner to direct at her.

“What are you thinking for him?”

L&R had insecurities about him that Jacinthe noticed since the activation of Command and the appearance of both of the other childer. What he didn’t say, held in his tone and in his body language when he was present for these encounters. For the longest time, the best course of action was to deviate from these subjects and distract with assignments. As it was not yielding the correct results (that his behavior was becoming more erratic), it was time for minor adaptations with her leadership over this ghoulish apparition in her life.

“Do you hold insecurities about being replaced?”

That fear in him would make his decisions shaky, and knowledge that she remained in control would waiver. That was a possibility she couldn’t afford to happen. Whether now or decades from now. Jacinthe stepped from where she stood, pocketing the soiled cloth into her front left pocket while holding Wit in her right. “If you harbor those things inside, give them voice to me now. It will cloud your judgements. You have already displayed inconsistencies that surpass your usual state of being. You have acted impulsively, you have attacked. These are signs that, to me, indicate that something is being repressed and translated into your actions.”

His stance folded in, it fit together in tight bundles that were more intense than before. He was rethinking his immediate response. Jacinthe was not a stranger to anger, as she displayed that specific emotion herself for years. It's the only one that she could recognize beyond a reasonable doubt through the external patterns in people she knew. L&R's voice was stern, it had an edge to it. Every word was over enunciated. "I am not harboring a ******* thing. Stop studying me like an animal, I'm not your ******* pet." The Swedish-American met him with a focused gaze, lifting up from her sword.

Equality wasn't a thing that he usually desired. He now voiced his wishes of being catered to emotionally. In a year, he had never indulged in an emotional piece of her. Jacinthe was under the impression that her wraith understood that there wasn’t much more she had to offer than the protection she was so vigilant on covering the people close to her with. Her way of compensating for not always being emotionally available for them.

“L&R… - ”

More of the dried mud texture revealed itself when he stepped closer to her. He made sure she could see every crevice and cut of his face.

“Don’t dehumanize me. I was alive once. I had a name. I still have a name.”

The new information was coming in a tidal wave barrage, his anger giving rise to all the things he hid from her. Now the flood began.

“It was us, for a year. Maybe it was more. I’ve seen you at your lowest points. I know you are capable of weakness, whether or not you decide to admit it to yourself or anyone else. That ******* mess you dragged out of the Realm - this new addition, and the old ones - you didn’t need them. You never needed them to be around. You are weaker with them around. You aren't expanding yourself anymore, not growing stronger in the ways that you need to. You're recreating all of your old crutches. It was better when it was just us.”

He spoke his mind bluntly, a quality in him that was preferable to her (reminding her of her brother-in-law). Jacinthe might not relate to her wraith’s abrupt need to be emotionally appeased but it was an effort she was willingly to attempt. His reasoning, to the core, made sense. That they had been together so long that she owed him more than she was outputting.

“What was your name?”

“Ignatius.” There was a stretch of silence; a command or any deeper line of questions could provoke another run of anger in him. The Killer refused to speak first. L&R, or Ignatius now, appeared to have the same idea, hovering back into the shadows. Time seemed to only lengthen that they stood nearby one another but formed nothing to direct at the other.

“I need to check home, to see whether there are signs of activity from Imogen.” Out of all of her childer, Imogen was the only one that her wraith enjoyed being around.

“I’ll track down what’s his face.”

His departure imitated the last meeting they had. No further words, just the shift of the air as he kept to the dark corners and slunk away..

He said he had a name once, he was alive once. His name was Ignatius.

It was a start.