The unanticipated dash through the very depths of the forest was, admittedly, perhaps more enjoyable then Tetradore had initially been willing to consider. His own lanky, ebony form was quick to pick up that game, closing the distance between himself and his chosen 'prey' with far greater ease then he suspected even Matteo might have anticipated. His paws bounded with ease up and over the boulder, ignoring a great many of those efforts to further slow him as he raced through the dense forest and towards the ever-encroaching treeline. Tetradore burst from the undergrowth but several moments after the French Ambassador, only for his emerald eyes to settle upon the clearly exhausted frame of his fax father. Someone, it seemed, had gotten rather out of shape, a fact Tetradore was all but content to chuckle at, the sound more resembling a series of chuffs as he watched the panting fae gesture towards the crimson scarf that dangled from a precariously low branch, the ends of it drifting in the gentle zephyr. Matteo's intent with the scarf was decidedly clear and yet before Tetradore might make an effort to retrieve the fabric and end the game, he was stopped by Matteo's frame as the Frenchman so abruptly crouched in front of him.

How long had it been since any singular soul had attempted to pet the ebony feline? Years, at the very least. That tender touch of Matteo's fingers against his head caused his figure to shift, the Alpha easily leaning into that touch as Matteo's finger's trailed behind his ear only to shift further down beneath his chin. That simple scratch caused the panther to lift his head ever so slightly, only for that soft and so rarely heard rumble to reverberated deep within his chest. There were, within Tetradore's life, decidedly few who had ever heard the jungle cat produce such a purr. Matteo was, perhaps one of the few who could coax such a sound from his feline vocal chords without fail. That very sound seemed to produce some level of comfort within the French fae, and yet, it was the assertation that he might have made a fine rug that caused the panther to jerk his head back in clear disgruntlement of the idea. He eyed Matteo with a clear lack of amusement even despite the laughter that readily left the Frenchman's lips. The affectionate ruffle of the fur on his head made the panther shrink away if only for how such a gesture so undid the near-perfect fashion in which that ebony coat had once laid, prompting it an almost minuscule mohawk where Matteo's hand had skewed it in directions it surely didn't belong.

His sudden need to fix his coat caused the feline to settle on his haunches before that long, wet, pink tongue so licked at his padded paws, only to rub the velveteen surface against the fur on his head in some effort to right the fur back to it's designated place. That role of Matteo's eyes was wholly ignored, at least until Tetradore was assured his fur was back to its pristine state. The panther's emerald eyes turned back towards the fae only at Matteo's final prompting not to get wet. The sheer suggestion of it prompted a small inkling upon the back of the panther's mind as he slowly rose to his feet, pacing along the edge of the bank in clear consideration. His shadows slowly unfurled around his feet, swirling around his form in clear anticipation and yet, Tetradore hesitated to call on them - the positioning not quite yet right. It was, however, the slightest bump of Matteo's tennis shoe against his paw that finally prompted the demanding onslaught of those shadows, the Were-King all but determined to take the fae with him in some effort to take his own form of vindication. That sheer rapidness quite near afforded him that revenge he sought as the duo teleported but inches above the surface of the water.

Tetradore's jaws snapped eagerly at the red scarf that dangled so precariously from the edge of the tree branch. The crimson cloth was snatched quickly in those few seconds before gravity gripped the feline, leaving the pair falling into the water with a loud splash. His impact with the water was far quicker recovered from as Tetradore pushed himself back to the surface, the very coldness of the creek was, perhaps, his only gripe as he eyed the surfacing form of a rather drenched fae. He eyed the fae's darkened locks and equally as plastered clothing with a sense of satisfaction, one that only grew substantially with Matteo's announcement that he was an ass. Maybe revenge was a dish best served cold. That mirth within his emerald eyes was surely blatant, even if the panther's vocal chords were unable to properly pronounce the laughter that would have been ringing upon his lips. Tetradore's own paws easily paddled his figure towards the river's bank only to find himself near pounced upon by the body of the French fae. His very neck was caught within his father's arms, shoving the cat back down in the water. It was, perhaps, unfortunate for Matteo that even here, the fae was surely at a disadvantage.

Tetradore was quick to push off using his far more powerful hind legs, quite purposefully making the effort to use his own weight to dunk the Frenchman in a series of splashing and flailing that surely brought on the inquisitive looks from the equines above. The end result, however, was a soddened panther and equally as drenched of an Ambassador, each having been ducked in the depths of that creek more than once. The scarf itself had certainly seen better days, nearly torn in some places from the game of tug of war that Matteo's efforts to steal it had resulted in. The moment Tetradore's paws touched the shore, his body shook, tossing those water droplets from his fur in every which direction. The simple proximity of the Frenchman to his own figure near guaranteed Matteo was subjected to that impromptu shower of sorts. The exclamation that fell from Matteo's lips caused the feline's tail to lash behind him in an almost mischevious fashion, at least, until the man so willing admitted that this additional water hardly mattered when his clothing was plastered to his body and his shoes squeaked from dampness. His ears, however, perked ever so slightly at the simple suggestion of the sun. It was, perhaps, a stereotypical weakness of the Were-King to so enjoy lounging comfortably in the warmth of that heavenly sun - the man entirely inclined to simply sleep while basking in its warmth.

The feline slinked closer to his faux father, letting the man engage that teleportation only to whisk them both back through the forest to the very place Tetradore had all but abandoned his own clothing. His emerald eyes watched with some vague interest as Matteo swiftly scooped the articles of clothing into his arms, only to whisk them away a second time to leave the feline in a rather large forest clearing. Tetradore's gaze peered almost inquisitively at the grassy field that surrounded him and yet, the panther was hardly oblivious to the simple warmth of the sun upon his ebony coat. It was, admittedly, a heavenly sensation. His head shifted, focusing upon the Frenchman himself as Matteo made his way towards the checkerboard blanket laid out neatly upon the grassy terrain - a rather large lunch basket settled at its center. Tetradore's gaze slowly shifted towards those clothes tossed within his general direction, the Were-King all but content to ignore the pointed gaze he was given as his figure so abruptly began to change. After all, when lunch a foot, Tetradore had little reason to desire the form of the jungle cat any longer. In mere moments, his obsidian fur had given way to mortal skin, the man reaching for his undergarments whilst Matteo busied himself with unpacking the contents of the basket.

He was, admittedly, decidedly curious of what this lunch consisted of - the sight of those cold meats and cheeses decidedly familiar. It was, it seemed, the rather done thing when it came to the French - those cold cuts he had the day prior still lingering upon his mind. Tetradore fastened his jeans around his waist, entirely disinterested in the salad and its fixings. It was, however, the presence of those cookies that saw him pause with his shirt in hand. The lavish chocolate tart that followed only furthered his immediate interest. There was little doubt within Tetradore's mind of what the cake was, after all, Matteo used to bring with him a single piece of one of those carefully crafted tarts every year on his birthday. To have an entire one to themselves, however, was greatly more exciting. "Ooooo." Tetradore muttered with a glimpse of satisfaction as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, only to flop onto the blanket whilst Matteo pulled a singular candle from the depths of the wicker basket. The Alpha could hardly help the roll of his eyes as the Frenchman summoned his lighter, only to light the wick within. The tart was pushed towards him and yet, before Tetradore could lean forward to blow out the singular candle he was given, he was handed another mysterious box - a present clearly meant to be opened first.

An inquisitive glance crossed Tetraore's features as Matteo's head bobbed in an affirmation that the gift in his hands should be open quite promptly. His fingers plucked lightly at the box as he glanced up at the Fae, listening almost suspiciously as the Frenchman spoke of religion. The last thing the Were-King had anticipated to find within the small square box was the navy cloth pillow, much less the dark wooden crucifix that rested within. Tetradore's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as he reached for the necklace, holding it up for a better inspection. He had seen, of course, the rosary that Matteo wore around his neck. He had never seen the fae without the singular piece of jewelry though he hadn't anticipated one of his own. After all, it wasn't as if the crucifix was in any way a substantial defense against vampires. No, this was clearly meant for a far more...personal, emotional reason - though what it was he hadn't the slightest idea. It was intriguing, the history of the object within his hands and yet it was that notion of hope that captured the Were-King's mind. Hope was a magnificent gift for a doomed soul, he supposed. His emerald eyes slowly inspected those smooth beads, rifting from it only as Matteo reached for the necklace around his own neck - the one Tetradore was far more familiar with.

"Why did it give you hope?" Tetradore inquired as he reached up to place the rosary around his neck, the crucifix dangled against his chest. His fingers slowly moved across the smooth surface of the wooden beads and though it had been decades since Tetradore had felt any need to pray, he vaguely remembered those prayers associated with those beads. After all, his own heritage was near steeped in that very religion that Matteo held in such high regard. His thoughts of those prayers, religion, God, and life itself were interrupted only at the mention of the chocolate tart - the very 'cake' that he had almost forgotten. A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips as Tetradore leaned forward an, with one breath, blew out the small flickering flame. "Couldn't just do plain chocolate could you?" He commented on the elaborate fruit that decorated the surface of the tart - how very like Matteo to go above and beyond what the Were-King himself would appreciate. He supposed though, the very fact that Matteo did each and every time was something to be admired.

aiden tetradore