The Basin had been quiet recently as a few had travelled south, brandishing weapons and bringing war. It was odd to be left behind, but d’Artagnan bared little resentment, he had almost been in every battle until now; it bordered peaceful to be left out of one. Not that the Doctor did nothing, he bustled around here and there, playing with dangerous substances and lassoing baby-faced recruits from the Threshold. He even stopped the equine filth from escaping, though the shade would have much preferred to have killed her instead and stop her from making a nuisance later. It wasn’t like they were going to pop up and cause a problem from the grave after all; eternal silence was the best kind. She hadn’t had much chance of escaping, poor girl, not with the hounds of the Basin chasing her down. It was almost saddening to leave it there. Still, the Doctor returned to his business, scouring for more plants in his inventory given to him by the dear old Earth. Even with the years he had been here now the shade had not found every plant, duty got in the way at times and some of them were just so damn hard to find. Lingering in certain places or belonging certain seasons. It occupied his mind and kept it away from boredom, he was cracked enough without the help of that maddening dullness.

Today, however, wasn’t exciting, but it wasn't dull either. It was red with anger.

He marched across the Basin with his mismatched eyes brooding under sooty lids, he looked calm, the angry kind of calm. The kind where the silence burned and his expression was rigid in a festered rage that had been left to boil for far too long. d’Artagnan was a master of indifference, but today was not the day for disregard. The rattling of a prison door got louder as he got closer, it was followed by the grunts of a horse, who really, wasn’t too different from the blood cloaked brute. They both bore the annoyance of a strange leather contraption strapped to their sides and both were quite enamoured in eating substances that weren’t all together good for you. Finally, they both had grown the horned weapon that made them kin, but this bastard was no kin of the Doctor. The shade had met him once, only briefly, he had detected no malice being directed towards himself that time. A more curious and perhaps emotional horse might have questioned as to why this outlaw had killed an innocent looking mare, but d’Artagnan didn’t care for his reason. What was the point? He couldn’t possibly have a reason to deter the hellion who strode towards him. Maybe this Oxy really was like him, not every horse needed a reason to murder, the Nightshade was valid proof of that. It also solidified the Mender's resolve, not that it needed much reassuring, that sparing his life was not the answer. Just like d'Artagnan, the only way to stop a monster was to wipe it from the earth it plagued.

Deimos was there already, the Lord of the Basin who stood like the Reaper he was, watching over the writhing prisoner. The shade strode up and stopped next to his old friend, saying nothing for the moment as his rigid gaze bore into jail. He thought of Kou and her crippled, life less body. Aramis waited beside him, the boiling rage of his bonded causing his red markings to glow and his tail to flick eagerly from side to side. "You killed my Nurse. Bad decision" he responded, his body still rigid as he turned to respond to Deimos' delightful question "dead, at my feet." His voice rolled out with not an ounce of lightness to it, just cold and cruel. A low growl rippled from the cur beside him as the Nightshade seemed to contemplate something for a moment before turning his attention on the Reaper again.

"I’ll do it, if you don’t mind me stealing your catch?" The Doctor, after all, didn’t do the hard work in finally finding the fool.