I'm Loosing My Soul

Pushing me to the edge of my decline

A small simper fluttered across the Were-King's features as his emerald irises watched the swaying hips of his girlfriend as she moved behind the stately bar. Tetradore was well aware of the fights in full swing behind them - the roar of the crowds entirely impossible to ignore, even if the Alpha pretended otherwise. Rather, it was Mira who held the entirety of his attention - and how well she knew it! Her every movement seemed to hold a hint of flirtatious allure to it as she crafted him yet another mixed beverage with a peculiarly nonsensical name. It was the sudden vibration within his pocket that hesitantly drew his gaze from her, albeit just long enough to fish out his cellphone. Tetradore hardly glanced at the screen before the emerald of his irises turned back to his girlfriend, right as she placed her newest concoction in front of him with flourish. His brow rose as he eyed the drink - though he knew better then to ask its name before he'd tasted it. He brought the golden cocktail to his lips, taking a sufficient drink before his tongue brushed across his bottom lip in vague contemplation. Tetradore's head tilted to the side, purposefully drawing out that moment in the way he knew drew Mira absolutely mad. "....I think.....I like this one. What's it called?"

"Anna Banana."

His eyes rolled at the very name, only for Tetradore's gaze to turn downward towards the cellphone in his hand. His fingers flicked effortlessly over the screen only for the Alpha to stare at the message unconnected to any contact within his phone. His brows furrowed, the corner of his features contorted into a small frown and yet, if Mira had noticed his reaction - she said nothing of it. It was hardly difficult to deduce who the sender of the message was at all. What was peculiar was that it was the first time his Mistress had texted him rather than utilize her affinity to drag him back to Syn. The second peculiarity was her declaration to bring 'the mouthy one'. Who the fuck was that? Did she expect him to go and find someone? How the fuck was he supposed to decipher who 'the mouthy one' was. She couldn't possibly mean Tobias, could she? He stuck every fucking thing under the sun in his mouth just in case he could eat it. She had to be fucking insane if she thought he was going to ever bring her Tobias. Unless that was the whole point of the text message. Was she looking for a reason to punish him? Though really with Risque's ire, a reason was hardly necessary to earn him her...attention. Though really, appearing within Syn without this...mouthy...one....was perhaps going to earn him her irritation as much as asking her who the fuck she was talking about. A scowl must have crossed his features at his contemplations - those thoughts broken only by his girlfriend's inquiry -- "What's up?"

It was an innocent enough question, really, though one he hardly intended to answer truthfully. His head shook ever so slightly. "Nothing, just...some business I need to tend to. Thanks for the drink though." He stood, the glass dangling from his fingertips as he offered her a brief simper, only to turn from the bar before she had a chance to interject. That momentary glimpse of...happiness, perhaps, was automatically wiped from his features the moment his back was to her, his gaze still focused upon his cellphone as he maneuvered with ease through the crowds that tended to part, ever so slightly, just for him. He had only just left the hubbub of the Ark's fighting ring when it came. The call brought a lancing pain through the forefront of his mind - causing the Were-King's step to falter. His free hand rose to his head as he grimaced. Never was her call this powerful - at least, not until he had already ignored her for some time. Something was amiss - a soft breath left his lips as his head shook ever so slightly and shakily, his hand rose to bring Mira's cocktail to his lips. Lord only knew he would need that stiff drink by the time the night was over. It was the soft sound of a thud that drew Tetradore's gaze upward as he pushed himself away from the wall he'd half collapsed into. That piercing pain still resonated within his skull - unlikely to stop till he appeared within Syn. The Alpha slowly made his way around the hallway, only to find Harley crumpled on the floor with her head in her hands. It was the first time Risque had called her...wasn't it? It was a shame that the first one happened to be the worst one in quite a long while.

He bent down, his hand almost tentatively reached out to touch her shoulder. "She's calling for us. It'll only go away when we show up at Syn...otherwise it just gets worse." Harley, he knew, was prone to arguing with him, just as she was prone to brushing him off at every opportunity. It was unlikely she would appreciate his efforts to help, or his decision to drag her alone, at least for now, but Tetradore was strikingly used to her level of distrust -- hatred, even. Tetradore brought his drink to his lips one last time, taking a hearty gulp of it before the glass was placed upon the floor beside them. That simple presence of his hand upon her shoulder was all he needed to call those shadows - the darkness all but enveloping them quite before Harley could argue. In mere moments, the wispy blackness unfurled, leaving the pair upon the floor of a bedroom in Syn - his bedroom, to be precise. It was, he knew, the first time she had ever seen the space, though he offered her no explanation as Tetradore stood upon with a soft breath upon his lips. Already that piercing headache was beginning to subside. "Come on, let's find out what's going on and then get the hell out of here." He mumbled to the girl as he led the way out of his bedroom.

There was a notable tension within the air - one hs feline could feel as he led her through those familiar halls of Syn and out into the main club. It was oddly silent tonight. That is, there was no band playing, no party goers filling every spare space, no bone shaking bass. No, the sounds of the dance club were replaced by something else entirely - dogs. "What the fuck is going on out there?" Tetradore inquired to the bartender. Syn's residents, both feline and vampire alike, had somehow all begun to coagulate here, their eyes near trained upon the doors of Syn. "We're under attack." A frown crossed Tetradore's features as he glanced towards the door. Frankly, he was unsurprised that Risque had enemies but the number of times they had gone to war...and with someone not her brother...well that was a low number indeed. "I'm going to the roof to see what's going on outside, either come with me or go downstairs...just...stay the hell away from this if you can." Tetradore uttered to Harley, regardless of her feelings for him...she was still his vector and that brought with it a almost paternal desire to protect her, as difficult as such a thing was in a place like this. He said little else to her, however, the Were-King instead navigated his way through the depths of Syn and towards the staircase that led upward and to the roof.

He opened the door with ease, only to step in the cool night air. The stark contrast brought fleeting goosebumps to his bare arms as the breeze seeped through the jersey cotton material of his grey t-shirt. The wrinkled shirt bunched in all the right locations, those creases formed upon his neckline, drawing attention to his broad shoulders as they filled out the soft material. They continued downward, creasing diagonally beneath his pecs and over his sculpted abdomen, only to bunch softly at the small lip his brown leather belt provided. The distressed leather was carefully fit into the loops of his jeans, the size of the still plain golden buckle almost bordering upon being atypical for the Were-King who cared so little about clothing in the first place. To him, it's only purpose was to ensure his jeans remained upon his hips. Despite their tendency to rest low, the darkly hued jeans fit the Were-King surprisingly well. They too sported the same near distressed look. The deep blue feathered out into a unique paler off blue color that existed too upon those natural creases that had formed lined into the top portion of his jeans. They trailed from the outer corner towards his groin, a result from years of repeated movements within them. They bunched neatly around his knees and again at his ankles, pushed just above the lip of his black boots.

The very sound of the soles of his shoes upon the roof seemed to prompt Darcy to pause and glance over his shoulder. The vampire was, admittedly, the one person Tetradore had not anticipated to see up here. He said little in way of a greeting, however, the Were-Cat instead inclined to meander towards the edge to glance down at the throng of weres and vampires that had gathered upon Syn's doorstep. His arms crossed over his chest as his gaze fleetingly danced over their numbers, already considering just how well their army would stack up in comparison. "So....what the hell did she do this time?" He inquired, his brow rose as he glanced over at Darcy, certain that their shared Mistress had done something idiotically selfish to prompt such rampant hate within someone Tetradore hadn't even known was their enemy.

The King of the Damned