The presence was stronger as the mist grew darker. Less feel of the Knight was there the closer she got to where Vergil was metaphorically bound.

And what could you have to say of that floundering fool?

The voice had less bite this time, more bitterness. He had issues with his twin. He figured the man was off being the irresponsible idiot he always was. Then again, who was he to even speak even with all of his pride he was a prisoner to his own body.