Packing was, as far as Tetradore was concerned, a wholly useless endeavor. He hardly saw a point to the effort Jackal had taken to shoving that duffle bag filled with clothes when he had that very art of teleportation at his fingertips. He was, admittedly, oblivious to the idea that a true vacation surely meant not returning at all - to putting the very thoughts of where he'd left behind him for the entirety of a week. Such a luxury, after all, had never been afforded to the were-King. He had watched that process with but vague disinterest, wholly distracted to the point that he too hardly gifted his faux father with even a glimpse of a smile. Rather, the man had moved around that chaos of his room as he finally pulled himself from the bed, focusing on getting himself ready while Jackal did....whatever he was doing. Tetradore had been reclusive for the past few days, hiding away from the world in that small bedroom he kept for himself ever since his latest meeting with the vampiric woman. Naively, he had anticipated Risque's business to take her elsewhere on the days leading up to that trip and yet, she eternally managed to discombobulate all he thought he had come to terms with. That renewed bond between them only fortified with the taking of his blood, even if that wound had quickly healed over. Still, it had occurred to him that, perhaps her satisfaction in whatever kept the pair connected was what caused her attention to be directed elsewhere enough for that trip to occur, Matteo's visions of fate, after all, often had roundabout or obscure manifestations.

Eventually, however, Tetradore had found himself dragged from the Ark, that very vacation beginning the moment he watched that large cargo ship floating out of view in the side mirrors of the vehicle. He had, admittedly, been entirely unsure of what to expect of this whole...vacation affair. The were-King, after all, had never been out of the country before. He was most certainly hadn't expected that private jet that awaited them upon the runway, decorated on its tail fin with the Royal Crest and the colors of the Italian Monarchy. Taking off had created a peculiar sensation within his stomach, and yet, that feeling was all but fleeting till Tetradore was left with a bird's eye view of his very city sprawled out beneath him. He had, admittedly, spent the better part of the morning simply watching what he could of the ground beneath them, fascinated but how small and insignificant everything appeared from such a great height - at least, until they got too high and left land to cross the ocean. The rest of that flight had been nothing short of dull in comparison. Night had already fallen by the time they had reached Europe, providing the man with nothing more than blackness outside those plastic 'windows' of the private jet plane - that was, at least, until those very lights lit up the horizon. The landing, perhaps, fascinated the man just as much, those little dots of busy cities wholly intriguing as they finally begun their descent into Paris.

The city was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The lights, the people, the stores, the roads. Everything was so....different, even despite the hour at which they arrived, the city was still very much alive. That drive back to Matteo's own home had hardly been nearly as relaxing as the plane trip. The Frenchman's driving was nothing short of terrifying, though Tetradore was quickly beginning to realize that it hardly seemed exclusive to Matteo then the nation as a whole. Those vehicles on the side of the road bumper to bumper, the traffic so close the vehicles almost kissed. It made his very skin crawl, prompting him to almost sink lower into his seat as if he could simply ignore it if he couldn't see it. Those roads that finally opened to them as they left Paris had been nothing short of a relief, even though it had only led to the return of utter darkness. It was another hour, at least, before distant lights caught his attention the estate at the end of the ridiculously long one-lane road was nearly the size of his entire cargo ship! The estate loomed ever closer and yet it was some time before the were-King truly realized that this was the very home Matteo had spoken so fondly of and he had once so childishly fantasized living at.

He could hardly help that awe upon his features, even as he inquired after how many people the estate housed and yet, the answer was wholly unexpected. It baffled him why Matteo might live at such a large place alone. His emerald eyes continued to sweep over those grounds and that interior as Matteo led him inside, the home was nothing short of opulent. He could hardly imagine what his life might have been like, if he had ever managed to convince Matteo to whisk him away from that life of confinement as a boy. That idle consideration, however, was one he abruptly put an end to, helped only by the smell of food. That dinner had been quite quickly consumed, that hunger certainly had gripped him after a whole day in the air with little more than cold cut sandwiches to fill his stomach. To have a warm feast was nothing short of blissful, leaving the man desiring little more than sleep in the wake of it.

Unfortunately, with an estate as large as that French chateau, finding his designated bedroom was more akin to a maze than anything else. It had taken several times before Tetradore felt as if he could find his way back to the kitchen....maybe. By then, however, Tetradore found himself hardly attentive to the contents of the room, the man entirely focused on that bed that beckoned to him. His suitcase was dropped on the floor, those layers of clothing peeled off of his figure only for the were-King to fall into that sweet embrace of those plush blankets. God, even his bed wasn't this nice. It was the very last thought on his mind before Tetradore drifted into the sweet abyss of sleep. And oh, how he slept! He remained blissfully ignorant of those hours that passed, as night waned onto morning and further onto day. How long had it been, truly, since Tetradore had been given a night without those dreams that he battled with? How long had he been left to simply sleep? Without some meeting or problem with his business or even Tobias to wake him? It was nothing short of glorious.

By the time those emerald eyes finally opened, the sunlight was streaming warmly in through the large windows on one side of the whitewashed room. The fire had all but died into gently glowing embers, even though Tetradore hardly remembered the fire's existence in the first place. For a moment, he simply laid there in bed, his gaze tracing the features of the room that he had been too tired to pay attention to the night prior. His gaze skirted over photos he'd long since forgotten, the pictures forever immortalizing those few adventures Matteo had taken him on outside of that dance club. It was, however, that photo placed on the bedside table that saw him pause, his breath quite near caught in his throat as he reached out for that framed photo. How long had it been since he had seen that picture? How many years? Tentatively, his fingers brushed over the faces forever immortalized in that photo. Slowly, he clutched that photo to his chest, a soft sigh fell upon his lips as he stared upwards at the ceiling. He missed them. He missed what they could have been. Slowly, he placed that photo back in the bedside table, the picture frame purposefully facing downwards, as if their smiling faces were still too painful to see when Tetradore was still within the grasp of the very woman that had murdered them.

He pushed those blankets off, pulling himself from that bed only to set about bathing and dressing for the day. It was just a bit after eleven in the afternoon before the Alpha finally left his bedroom, only to follow that very path Matteo had shown him the night prior...or, at least, what he thought was that path. He could hardly stop himself from observing that splendor of not only the hallways and rooms he walked past, but too the very bright beautifulness of the estate outside those glass windows. This was nothing like Tetradore had expected. Slowly, he wandered down the staircase and towards the living room, only to find his adoptive father sprawled out on the sofa with a book in hand and...what was that next to him? The floppy ears and tiny....loaf like body were unlike anything Tetradore had ever seen. "What kind of dog is that?" He inquired, flopping in an accent chair perpendicular to the sofa Matteo occupied. It was so...quiet and....peaceful here. It was kind of....odd, if only for how different it was from Tetradore's daily life. This was something he could get used to....it was a shame he'd never be given the opportunity.

aiden tetradore