As was typical, Nigredo found sparsity in terms of humor--less from Albedo's smirking lips. "Given our track record, I think I can hate it without reason." Not that they were lacking in reasons, of course. The basement happened to be a minefield of significant trauma. Conflict, death, kidnapping, inanity, more death, more inanity, to name a humble few. The complete list could traverse miles, and a ruined city beneath the institute was another tick to the count.

His eyes rolled heavenward, tracing the outline of the cityscape and committing the details to memory. What happened fell short of appeal. What awaited them held no purpose. This world had plenty of decay to stifle a child's healthy curiosity while emptiness had become a simple fact in life. Nigredo dug his toe into the crumbling asphalt and sighed.

"We could look around," he said, "or we could stand here until morning. Not that we have much of a choice." Options, it seemed, all led to a single path.

It came to a question, then. Of what that path happened to be.

A moving shape in the distance forced Nigredo's attention, and the child jerked his head to the side for a better view. The grey made for poor visibility, but there existed enough basics for Nigredo to reach for the blade at his side, hand gripping tight on the handle.

"Albedo." The name was a warning for both sibling and newcomer, for the latter appeared human. Wary, too, from how they were standing--

Familiarity struck him, and his eyes went wide. For what, Nigredo would not say.