It was a quiet, eerie kind of night with that crescent moon hanging low within the sky. The fog had rolled in but an hour earlier, so limiting that view that even his supernatural emerald eyes could so see. Still, that obscurity would only further serve to assist him in the hours to come. He'd watched as those lights slowly flicked off within that house across the street - one by one. They were either all asleep or had clearly no intention of returning home that night and yet, all he cared about was one singular man. Even so, he still waited at least another hour to ensure those whom were within those walls were all asleep. It was, perhaps, a particular benefit to his own kind being so nocturnal while they still so naturally clung to the daylight hours. The roof behind him was littered with baskets and baskets of purple flowers, their acquisition certainly hadn't been easy to find, given the year and the sheer number and yet, he had willingly spent the money to so make his point. It took far more time than he cared to admit to so layer that emerald grass with those vibrant buds, the nightshades quite literally creating a carpet of flora upon every square inch of the lawn before another two baskets were so grasped between his fingertips as Tetradore slowly approached the window of that quiet home. A single glance inside was all that was required before Tetradore found his abilities so flaring to life, the man appearing nearly immediately in the darkness on the opposite side of those glass panes.

For a moment, Tetradore was content to simply stand there, letting those human eyes so adjust to the darkness he found himself within. He had far less of those purple hued blossoms now, he'd have to use them with care to further that ambiance he so wished to create. Frost might have been strong willed enough to make the man wholly impenetrable to that fear Tetradore was so often able to craft within others. This plan, however, that he so meticulously crafted, would perhaps be enough to provide the slightest crack in that exterior, just enough to so wiggle his way in and, in turn, to so show the stead that despite their last encounter, he was a force to be reckoned with all the same. A little bit of heat, it would seem, was not enough to simply outdo the jungle cat. It was with the softest of sighs that he finally shifted from the kitchen, moving with slow, meticulous care to the hallway that led to the front door, it was here that petals began to fall, creating a carpet towards the stairs of the home. He moved with that silence his species so personified, dumping flower after flower as he moved up the stairs and towards the main hallway.

It hardly took him long to find Frost's bedroom, the scent of that horse so assaulted him and silently he stood before that closed door, entirely prepared for just how terribly wrong this could go. It was with this in mind that he reached forward, his palm pressing against the door as he gingerly pushed it open, entirely glad that it gave way on silent hinges. For a moment, he simply stood in the darkness of that entryway, listening for any shift of the man's breathing before stepping inside to dump the remainder of those flowers upon the carpet of Frost's bedroom. He knew well the man thought he was dead. Hell, he'd sacrificed much to keep that rumor intact all for this - he wanted Frost to know that he could still reach him even beyond that faux grave...and then, when the time was right, he'd triumph over that 'death'. For now, however, Tetradore was merely content with that role of poltergeist he had so been placed in. It was only once his flowers had been placed that he left Frost's room, so collecting those baskets before removing them from the house altogether. After all, providing a logical explanation for their existence would hardly assist the man in his endeavors.

It was only once those baskets were tucked out of sight on the roof he'd been perched upon but hours before that Tetradore returned to that dark, quiet living room, so pausing in the center to simply contemplate the chaos he intended to create. His emerald eyes shifted from the television to the shelving unit and back again. He could hardly deny his want to topple that television, knowing well it's worth and yet, the unit beside was bolted to the wall, making it an object far more of a poltergeist target. He stepped closer towards those shelves, his finger reaching for his mouth as he so called to his venom, using that acid to corrode the bolts that kept the shelves against the wall. A small simper of satisfaction crossed the man's features as he reached for those shelves, using his own strength to send them toppling with a loud bang, the contents of those shelves flying across the room. The noise alone was surely enough to wake any sleeping soul and with that, the fallen King so called to his ability of teleportation, simply removing himself from the immediate vicinity.