How he abhorred those wet, slick sounds of his teeth tearing through the taut muscles of Tobias' body. He could feel the leopard's still form beneath the weight of his large paws, just as he was so intimately aware of his sharpened canines snapping and tearing at tendon and bone and vein, all in a determined hunt for that heart. He was aware of the sheer wetness of Tobias' blood staining his maw, his chest, his forearms as he dug through that cavity he'd created, only to pull out that weakly beating organ, snapping it from the arties that so gave his closest companion life. Tetradore could hardly help the way he near choked upon his breath, even though his body was wholly incapable of shedding those tears or expressing that anguish that so clutched at his soul. He could taste the boy's heart in his mouth, the very flavor all but deplorable if only for the knowledge of just what he had done - how his stomach seemed to rebel at the very sensation of it as each piece slid slickly down his throat and yet, Tetradore could do strikingly little to stop himself from consuming each and every piece of his childhood companion. Those wet emerald eyes all but betrayed the heartache that so afflicted him - that singular action quite near causing the Were-King to simply give up in the manner he so rarely did. So often Matteo was there to piece him back together, to encourage that rebellion that was so strikingly difficult to quelch and yet, this time....this time there was no fixing it. Nothing could heal this. Nothing could make this better.

He was hardly attentive to the way Risque's power so seemed to loosen upon him, the man simply letting his body give in to her whims - particularly when he now had so distinctly little to live for. The dark despondency gripped him in the aftermath of Tobias' death at his own hands. His inability to save the singular soul he cared about left him questioning his own worth, his own capabilities, much less why he persisted at all when he so continued to fail at each and every turn. He had failed to keep Raven safe from Frost. He'd failed to keep Samantha safe. He continually failed Nadya, the woman hardly viewing him capable of anything meaningful. His pack was in danger for his mere existence. And now....he'd even failed Tobias. What was left for him - now? What was the point of any of it at all? Her saccharine sweet voice broke his train of thought and yet, he hardly so much as acknowledged her words as his body merely continued that methodical cannibalism of his best friend - piece by bloody piece. Accept, she'd said. Accept that this was a battle he could not win. This was a war he had been bested in - his mistress striking straight at the heart of his very empire. Just...accept. And accept it he did, the man hardly giving any consideration to fighting against the further desecration of Tobias' corpse. After all, Risque desired his tail...it was all she had ever wanted and instead, because of him, she'd taken his very life.

He hardly bothered to fight her whims now, the panther merely complying in every facet possible as his teeth so dug into the tail bone of his beloved companion, those sharpened canines snapping through the cartilage in an effortless manner his species was so made to do. The very taste of Tobias' blood in his mouth was enough to make him gag and yet, he was quite near caked in the substance, escaping from it all but impossible. His feet fell heavily against the slick floor, his paws leaving prints in his wake from the blood that coated both them and the ground beneath him. His head was ducked low to the ground, his ears pinned back against his skull in an altogether rare glimpse of complete and utter submissiveness. Lifelessly, Tetradore reclined upon his haunches in front of her, presenting her with that very trophy that she had all but demanded from him. The feline hardly fought her as she reached forward to retrieve the dismembered tail, the woman pulling it around her neck like some sickening version of a scarf. This was what his childhood friend had been reduced to - a fashion statement. Tetradore's emerald eyes remained all but steadfast upon her feet, the man innately aware of the manner in which she so gloated and yet, he found he simply...didn't care. It didn't matter what else she took from him. It didn't matter anymore if he pleased her or rebelled against her. None of it mattered.

He was aware of her slender fingers pressed on each side of his face, drawing his muzzle upwards towards her as she leaned forward with that wicked gleaming smile. Her nose pressed against his as she rubbed against him, her porcelain cheeks stained red with the blood that all but covered him. He was aware of her hot breath against his ear, her hands pressed tightly and yet, all he saw at that moment, were those black spots that swayed ever so slightly with each and every movement she made. He hardly moved beneath her grip, however, at least, not at first. For several long moments, he was almost mesmerized by those dots, until his stomach so churned in that pressing nausea. God, he was going to be sick. He tore his gaze from her, attempting to move his head away ever so slightly in some desperate effort to find something, anything, to steady himself. Her voice was sharp, holding that hint of a warning as she chastised him for that singular movement and yet, Tetradore did little in the way of fighting. She pulled away from him, suddenly, only to place an empty glass in front of him, her command distinctly clear as she leaned back within her chair, waiting for him. For a moment, Tetradore simply stared at that glass, as if he had to muster even the willpower to move now in the wake of Tobias death and yet, a feeble part of his considered that, perhaps, tonight he might be given the chance to join his companion on the other side. Perhaps, tonight, she'd simply watch as he drained every ounce of blood from his own body till there was nothing left to take - and then she too would simply move on to the next unfortunate soul.

His claws on his already wounded arm were unsheathed, the sharpened points glinting dangerously within the lowlight as the panther tore at his own veins, slicing his own arm wide open. He shifted his weight, letting that now open wound hover over the empty glass, his blood pouring out in a thin, steady line before his already overworked healing so strove to stitch back together his skin. He was peculiarly careful to ensure every drop fell into that cup and yet the process of filling the glass entirely was hardly an easy one. Over and over Tetradore tore at his own flesh, his movements steadily becoming hardly as fluid as that despair so tightly gripped him in such suffocating anguish. His own body had hardly healed from his last evening with his mistress, the very result of such, when accompanied by his broken bones, wheezing breath, and now additional blood loss left the once gallant King all but wobbling upon his feet, his own body struggling to stay upright as that exhaustion so quickly seemed to grip him. It was tiredness he hardly fought, however, that soft, sweet whisper of an end one that he so eagerly welcomed. He was almost disappointed with that warm red substance of his own blood reached the very rim of the glass, near threatening to overflow before Risque abruptly stopped him. Softly, he exhaled, the action alone prompting that pain to flutter against his abdomen as he winced ever so slightly.

He was inattentive to the way she sipped at his own blood, treasuring each and every taste. His own dull green eyes simply stared at the floor where that glass had moments ago been, as if he'd hardly noticed it had even been moved in the first place. His ears flicked ever so slightly at the sound of her voice and yet, the jaguar was almost sluggish to comply. He was slow to rise to his feet, his legs all but protesting the weight of his figure. Tetradore swayed for a moment before the panther moved towards Risque's desk, his leg limping thanks to his own utter destruction of his arm. Tetradore all but collapsed upon the floor beneath her desk, the careless action suddenly prompting a fresh wave of pain through his physic, leaving him all but gasping for that breath. Those splintered ribs hardly liking the movement and yet, there was little he could do as the panther slowly curled in on himself, his gaze simply left staring at the hole beneath Risque's death at those deadened eyes of his companion - the leopard simply left on the floor like a rug with that gaping cavity so fully on display. He heard Risque's heels click against the wooden floors as she moved to settle within her chair, her feet propped up against his form in a wholly lackadaisical manner.

Tetradore remained there, staring at his childhood companion, his eyes heavy with his own exhaustion as his body tried fruitlessly to heal the damage that had been done to him. There were points, in those infinitely long hours, where an almost peculiar coughing beset the panther, the feline distinctly aware of the taste of blood within his mouth with each of those fits and yet, they eached earned him little more than a sharp probe of Risque's silver heel into his back, demanding him to still and quiet. It wasn't until the sun threatened to peak over the horizon that he was finally given permission to leave - permission that he was, for once, ill-inclined to take. His own, almost lifeless body was near dragged out from under that desk by one of her staff members, the panther hardly desiring to leave Tobias and yet, he was given distinctly little choice as he was near thrown out the side door of Syn, his body colliding into the cement floor of Syn's parking lot as Tetradore tried to collect himself - dawn already on the way and the Ark was little more than a hulking ship in the distance.