Somewhere, somehow, a perpetually undeniable bond had been forged deep within the mahogany halls of that luxuriously risque dance club. In blood and death and horror that connection had been created between himself and the young auburn haired woman whose life he'd watched drain in a trickling fashion from her once warm body. She had been utterly perfect, that evening she'd so naively sat next to him upon that bar stool within the overcrowded club. It was a moment that was forever imprinted upon the man's memory. It was a glimpse of a life that he had indirectly stolen from her all due to his silver collar and overpowering mistress. Had it been anyone else - Isolt might have still had some measure of life flowing through her veins. Anyone but him. It created such a guilt within the ebony panther and somewhere still deeper, an anger for all that he had been denied and all that he had been held responsible for. For all that he had caused merely due to the vampire's near fascination with him. Each sin that had been thrust upon him had surely compounded within that moment, causing the panther to strike against all odds against the very hand that had once fed him, clothed him, and made him the man he now was. A man so jaded by the cruelties of life that beauty was but non-existent.

But oh how glorious it was to rebel so blatantly against the chains that had bound him for so long! It was hardly atypical in any regard, this uprising. He had defied the woman before on numerous occasions but never an action so foolheartedly and never had his jaws turned upon the woman herself. There was certainly a level of desperation that so urged the man forward, even if he too considered it such a hopeless cause. Such a thought surely spoke volumes to the years of servitude that had been forced upon him and yet the man was willing to rival such ingrained lessons all for the life her. His pointed canines sank with a sickening sound into the flesh of the paled skin woman's throat, encouraging forth an unrelenting spout of her own stolen life force into his mouth. That gurgled cry that left his mistress's lips was strangely satisfying, for what few fleeting moments he had power over his own lanky form. In but seconds her hand had risen to his throat, her fingertips clawing at the collar still bound there in an instinctive effort to preserve her own life before the vampire seemed to remember the control she had over him. He felt it slipping, fading away as his body slowly began to rebel against him and slowly his fangs were pulled one centimeter at a time from the pallor of her neck.

He had accepted, in that treacherous moment, the unusually cruel punishment that he might endure at her hands, just as he too had accepted his inevitable fate to leave behind what he had created. Naively, he had hoped that perhaps his actions alone might be enough to cause the woman to turn far more of her attention upon him then the auburn haired woman that he so strove to save, as impossible as it was. What he didn't expect, as his form slowly released its hold upon the woman, was the steak that suddenly was thrust into the vampire's heart. His emerald eyes widened ever so slightly and yet his whole frame moved forward in a feeble attempt to save her as she fell to the wooden floor beneath them. His mouth parted, attempting to pull the steak from her chest and then...slowly, those commands that controlled the man began to wane before disappearing all together. Tetradore's mouth too slowly pulled away from the vampire and the piece of wood that so splintered her heart, his emerald eyes entirely cold as he stared down at the corpse of the woman that had for so long tormented him. It was peculiar to think it over now and in a way, he refused to accept the finality of this. He had lived with her for so long that it seemed wholly impossible to have finally reached this - freedom. For a moment, he almost felt as if he couldn't breathe.

It was the sound of Isolt herself shifting that brought Tetradore's attention back to the young woman, a glimpse of concern crossed his features as the panther made his way with care towards her. Softly, a purr reverberated within his chest, attempting to calm the woman from the pain that so tore at her own heart at the death of her maker. How trying it must be for her? Gingerly the man placed his large head under her outstretched fingers, his cranium nuzzling ever so softly into her hand, making every effort to offer her the comfort she so sought as he glanced over the destruction to her bar. He himself would see to it that the bodies of the deceased were taken care of - the vampires would be placed out into the sun, ensured they could never return as their corpses exploded into floating ashes and the weres too would be disposed of to never be found again. Perhaps, while she slept (for surely dawn was nigh) he would do what he could to return this place to the splendor of what it was - just for her. So that she would not have to deal with the aftermath of what they had done. Perhaps it could be wiped away from her memory, a temporary stain on the infinitely long and now, hopefully happy life she might lead. He could only hope the best for her and so, in every way, he did what he could to provide it if only for the simple reason that Isolt deserved so much more than this world had to offer her.