Seelie versus Unseelie, dream versus nightmare, riddler legacy versus stoic legacy. Every Fae where Tannusen was from had that duality built right into them; to reduce either to a single side was a recipe for disaster.

How many 'good' sides out there were willing to murder the other side, flat-out?

This one certainly was.

He wrapped the piano wire around his bloodier self's throat even tighter, and pulled. If it didn't strangle him first, it would gradually slice through his throat. The other version of him gagged and tore at Tannusen's arms, wickedly-hooked claws ripping apart the white dreamstuff sleeves of his coat and skidding over the impossibly light chain-mail that lined the whole thing.

Tannusen gazed down at his worse self with a strangely blank expression despite the other's struggles. Was this really all there was to him? How disappointing. He'd at least expected a good fight on the way out.