years I've walked in the coldest winds
from sorrow and pain I find my strength
the more I hurt, the clearer I see.
How ignorant the world at large was of the Were-King, even if he fought valiantly to keep it that way. The darkness that pervaded his life was near all-consuming, those souls that had seen the creature that Tetradore had been molded into viewed him as little more than a callous monstrosity - a man meant to serve the whims of a cruel mistress out of choice, his heart as darkened and hard as she. Those that saw him was the Alpha of the Nightshade, however, were given a glimpse of a far different light. In that, there was a kind of dependability hidden behind infinite patience and stern indifference. He was a beacon for the broken, the wayward, and the friendless - the Ark as much of a shelter for their kind as and those animalistic urges. Those two sides were such stark contrasts that fewer still were given even a glimpse of that whole picture that made up the complexity of the man. Harley was no different than the rest, it was a fact he reminded himself of as the sharpened daggers of her words so sliced at his resolve. Guilt? If only she knew the very weight of that guilt he bore upon his shoulders - of the lives he'd taken and the damage he'd done. Her turning was just a drop in an ocean of regret. Still, it hardly mattered in the end, regardless of whether or not she desired his assistance, Tetradore refused to be the sort of maker that left his own vectors to their own devices. He refused to let what happened to Henry, happen to her. Harleyquinn didn't need to lose anything else when she was already losing her own humanity. It was a small kindness he could give her, even though he knew well in the present moment she would not view it as such.
The intensity of his emerald irises stared at the young girl - the man simply watching her with an almost profound knowledge of both her and the events of their evening. She would not fire that gun. She would not be the final thing to bring about his demise. She would hate him for tonight, his actions surely kindling to the already raging fire but, maybe, years from now, she might one day understand. Maybe. The vibrancy of his gaze met the fiery amethyst of Harley's own, that emerald hue so suddenly seeming to shift and warp. The color somehow became more vibrant and depthless as his rarely used gift so finally activated, drawing her into that hypnotic shift of light within the flecks of his gaze. Tetradore watched as her figure seemed to relax, the tension that had once gripped her all but melting off as she stared up at him, wholly mystified. Softly, the Were-King requested the cold, metal gun within her hand, his own fingers gingerly reaching out for it with the simple knowledge that she was unlikely to pull the trigger beneath the sway of his affinity. There was a certain dreamy look to her features as she gave in to his request, only to inform him that she hadn't really planned to shoot him from the beginning. An almost weak simper crossed the Alpha lips though he said little of it as he instructed her to guide him through the apartment, the man nothing if not determined to keep that very eye contact that afforded him some level of control. His hand easily reached out to take her own within his palm. She offered him an almost whimsical sigh, that placidity all but potent as Harley agreed with him.
His newest vector was quick to pick up that role she'd been placed within, the woman nothing if not acute in those instructions she'd provided him. With her help, Tetradore had avoided the island, a kitchen barstool, and the massive bed for her now small puppy. The gun she'd once grasped to like a lifeline was abandoned upon the countertop and Harley, in turn, hardly seemed to notice it's absence in the slightest as they made their way out of that apartment and down those steps towards the parking lot. The bright blue of his Bugatti stood out amongst the dilapidated and well-used cars in the Western part of town and yet, Tetradore had become notorious enough in his own right that distinctly few were brave enough then to oogle that expensive sports car from afar with envy. Tonight was surely no different, as he led Harley towards his own prized possession. The man was all but careful to secure her within that fancy car, her murmuring doing little than to prompt that small, subtle twitch of his lips in amusement. It was only once that seatbelt was fastened across her chest that Tetradore issued that one final command - stay in. Whether or not she would was a different story and yet, Tetradore hoped that her appreciation of his vehicle would stop the fiery girl from all but destroying one of his few luxuries in life. The very break of his entrancing emerald gaze sharply decimated the almost hypnotizing effect, undoubtedly bringing the world back into a sharp focus for Harley.
Tetradore maneuvered around the hood of his vehicle, the man hardly unprepared for the frigid words he was greeted with as he slid into the driver's seat. A small shrug crossed his shoulders as his hand reached for his own seatbelt. "You chose the wrong option." He responded simply, altogether aware that his efforts to give her a decision had been little more than a guise. His key fit into the ignition of the vehicle just as Harley's own hand reached for the door, the vehicle's gullwing refusing to budge now that the car had been turned on. He had only just shifted the vehicle into reverse when the woman's voice caused him to pause. For a moment, his vibrant irises turned towards her, the corner of his lips turned downward in a frown. "No, I suppose not." He uttered, those words but a soft whisper as his gaze slowly turned back towards the dashboard in front of him. He abhorred how...right she was. Risque so frequently took all of that control away from him - making him little more than a puppet within her fingers and here, Tetradore had nearly done the same. He had denied Harley's decision to remain within the depths of that home by herself - even though he tried to tell himself that it was for her own good. Did Risque believe the same? Every time she robbed his fighting form of his own free will? His lips pressed together in a hard line as his foot eased off of the break, those thoughts still lingering potently upon his mind at Harley's sardonic inquiry of what happened now.
Slowly, his emerald eyes trailed across the sky and towards the setting sun as it crept across the horizon. "Now we race the sun." He responded lowly as he threw that Bugatti into drive, the vehicle all but peeling in his capable hands out of the parking lot and onto the streets of Sacrosanct. The Bugatti all but raced down those streets as Tetradore drove them out of the city limits, the man frequently weaving in and out of what little traffic existed upon the streets at the late hour. The sky had already begun to darken by the time he pulled into an empty parking lot just off the main interstate - the very forest that surrounded the city all but towering around them just a few feet away from the paved concrete. It had, admittedly, taken far longer than he had anticipated to drag Harley out here in the first place - the pair decidedly behind schedule. It was only after he placed the car in park that Tetradore pressed that small button upon his driver's side door, the vehicle unlocking to permit his soon to be Vector to leave. "Come on." He uttered as he stepped out the vehicle, the Alpha easily moving around the sports car and towards that trailhead. He could already feel those bonds of his pack, that distance between them and himself almost...uncomfortable on those full moons and yet, his connection with Harley needed to be cemented before she met the rest of them. He led her down that pebbled pathway and deeper into the undergrowth, the man only pausing a bit later to meander off the beaten track. Abruptly, Tetradore stopped, his emerald eyes turned upwards towards the darkened sky, the quietness of the natural world all but pervasive around them. "Here should be fine." He commented, glancing over his shoulder at Harley as he reached up to peel that loose cotton shirt from his well-defined figure.