Shadewood no space in your broken veins

He was there. Watching the ivory struggle against her mental demons. Watching as she was crushed under some invisible weight. But he did not stir her, as being brought suddenly out of a nightmare was often more dangerous than simply letting yourself fight free of it. But for that, you had to let it take you. 

He heard her murmurs, and his heart seized with every whimper of it. Everything in him had suffered as she did, as he restrained himself from rousing her. If there was anything the Phantom wanted to do, it was comfort her. But he didn’t. And his reward was knowledge. 

In the misery of the night, the Ghost finally burst from the cesspool of corruption, and horror was written over her angelic face, and the calm Assassin took it all in. From the heat she had baked them in, to the strain of her attempting to keep as close to the floor of the wall as possible. The frosted jewels took it all, and after her heart had regulated, after her own gaze stopped running from corner to corner of the homely space they shared together, did his baritones  slide across their space.

And it was clear he wanted an answer.

“Who is he,”

”And where can I find him.”