It feels, he thinks, a bit like facing down a lone wolf for the first time. Knowing that they are just a beast - a creature of skin and bone and teeth like himself - and yet also knowing that the wrong move could end in his own demise. Too fast or too timid or too brave could all spell his demise. Fear was the ultimate enemy, but it was attracted to its own scent. The more Rehoboam tried to pretend that he wasn't afraid, the more he could feel the sour taste of terror on the back of his tongue.

The creature speaks again, the long sibilant hiss of his syllables rattling around Rehoboam's brain like a pair of unsecured maracas. The noise makes it hard to corral his thoughts into anything useful, but he tries anyway, desperately scooping the malleable shape of them into molds only to watch them melt away like sand too wet to make sandscastles.

Do you love her? He asks, and Rehoboam's countenance darkens, soured not by his memories of her, but by all the memories he'd been forced to make without her. Did he love her? He didn't know. He didn't think he hated her, but nor did he think of her with anything resembling the warmth he regarded Eve with. Keres was a mystery to him. She was responsible - in part - for his existence and he wanted to know her, somehow.

"She abandoned me without even giving me a name," He says carefully, unable to stop the words that drip from his mouth despite his attempts to direct the flow. "I want to know why."

Why did she leave? Why didn't she take me? Why did she leave me behind? All of the familiar questions traipsed old worried paths through his mind and his lips pursed as he resisted the melancholy that normally accompanied them. It wasn't my fault.

In the end, it would not matter why, and Rehoboam knew it. Knowing why wouldn't change the fact that she had, but he felt like knowing her in some way would help him to understand himself. Maybe it would explain the way that leading a herd didn't appeal to him the same way that it seemed to for his father and brothers. Or maybe it would shed light on the way that he didn't crave the attention of others with the same fanatical zeal that his family did each time Fall rolled around.

He just wanted to understand.

The massive dappled monster spoke again, his ethereal words wrapping around the two of them until the rest of the Lagoon faded from existence. Hidden beneath the subtle menace in each syllable was a warning, and Rehoboam did his best to unearth the lesson Kingbreaker was granting him. The boy's jaw clenches as the realization of the truth hit him: he had in fact, offered the monster the advantage in this fight. He could have offered anything else - a benign truth, a lie, an omission - instead of the true reason for his arrival… but that would have been dishonest.

And while Rehoboam well understood that falsehoods would be important in this new life he'd chosen, he'd not yet grown comfortable with the way they fit on his tongue.

The leviathan leans closer, his fetid breath wafting across Rehoboam's face until he is near enough bowing. The gesture is so unexpected that Rehoboam stiffens again as if expecting an attack, though none comes. Fine details that he hadn't noticed before fall into focus - and his gaze traces over the charcoal curls of Kingbreaker's mane, and the way his dapples disappear on his face, allowing the charcoal smoke over his eyes and muzzle to highlight the eerie glow of his eyes. Up close, he is both more and less monster than he was before.

In truth, he has no idea how to answer the man before him. It was not a gift that Rehoboam had intended to give, nor one that he was truly comfortable with a stranger holding... but he couldn't unsay what had been said. Lifting his head again, putting more precious space between them to cloak the fact that their proximity set his heart to racing, Rehoboam finds something to say again.

"And you?" His gaze narrows, nostrils flaring as he hastily scrapes the melting sandcastle back into shape. "What are you here for?"