For twenty years, death had shadowed behind the Were-King, with each day holding the blossoming promise of being his last. For twenty years his world teetered on the amusement of one particularly vile woman, the cold, final embrace of his life ending would have been welcomed to all he had endured at her touch. It was the very sort of life that left the Were-King regarding Matteo's word of warning with little more than a scoff. He understood, of course, the Frenchman's efforts to so impart upon him some level of wisdom he himself had endured. After all, was that not the role of fathers? That small shake of Matteo's head drew his emerald eyes from those photos in front of him and yet, the Ambassador's words prompted but a small twitch of his lips into that near ever-present frown. He said little in way of response, however, the Alpha falling simply back to that silence that he so often retreated to, after all, there were no words to share between them when the pair had already suffered so much together. His gaze turned slowly back towards the singular photo within his hands, listening mutely to the sage advice he was given of how to take those photos himself to fill that album he had been given. He had, admittedly, little idea of which photos of that room he had any interest in visiting, after all, so many of those places were simply foreign to him. Regardless, his head bobbed in understanding until Matteo mentioned training.

The very suggestion of it prompted an audible sigh from the Were-King's lips. Matteo's comment at his aptitude in the fighting ring, however, prompted a roll of those emerald eyes. "That's different." Tetradore protested, the ring, after all, was for dominance, for his position of Alpha! This was....well...for himself alone. In that fashion, it seemed, Tetradore was distinctly lazy. Those antics were almost childish as he was led across the room, his head leaning back ever so slightly as his hands fell at his side, the man nothing short of the very embodiment of a disinterested child. He paused at the very center of that open space, simply watching with veiled acuteness as Matteo demonstrated that very skill he wished to impart upon the far younger and inexperienced teleporter. That idea of teleporting in a series was, at least in theory, certainly feasible. He had teleported in the air before, though he'd never made the effort to do so whilst in the tight grip of gravity. It at least sounded well within his capabilities, considering all that he had toyed with his affinity thus far. He listened as Matteo spoke of that aptitude, the comparison of it to a muscle altogether sensible to the young fighter. Clearly, he needed to put more effort into that gift if he wished to wield it quite in the way he desired.

That gesture towards the door caused a small glimpse of contemplation to cross his features. For all his tendency to drag his feet, Tetradore always made some effort, at the end of the day, for Matteo alone. It was, he was certain, the least he could do for the man who always came back to him when he so needed it, even if he rarely deserved it. Those shadows rushed towards him from the darkest corners of the room, few though they were. With a lover's embrace, they surrounded him, teleporting him easily to that first location just above the door in a clear effort to mimic the Frenchman's exact path. Near immediately upon reappearing, Tetradore called to those very same shadows and though they raced to answer his power, gravity was far faster than they given the current amount of brightness that filled the expanse of that overly large room. It caught the Were-King off guard, to have his power so fail him. That yelp of surprise left his lips as he began to fall to the floor, that feline within him ever quick to land on his feet, even if it was perhaps less than graceful.

He was hardly surprised by that simple fashion in which Matteo so watched him as if merely anticipating his success in that task before him. And indeed, a thought had quickly fluttered across the forefront of his mind as he pieced together those very details the Frenchman had given him thus far, those breadcrumbs surely leading to a lesson they both knew he'd find. Although he was more than capable of producing that very darkness he required, it did not come without a cost. The last thing he wanted, however, was to turn that affinity against Matteo himself. The Were-King almost inattentive to the contemplative fashion in which he so nibbled on his lip. The fae was the very last soul he ever desired to fear him, not when so many others so clearly did. It was, however, the stark realization of his own fear at that very moment that brought to life a wholly different notion. The room began to immediately darken, the whitewash walls changing hue to something more crimson with a darker damask pattern etched in the depths of that color. Tetradore knew that very room with such striking clarity and yet, the very length of time he'd spent within the depths of it allowed him some measure of level-headedness in spite of that very fear his gift so preyed upon.

The Were-King all but ignored the sound of his name in that thick French accent. Rather, Tetradore was quick to utilize his newfound darkness. His shadows were quick to jump his command as Tetradore teleported back into mid-air, attempting that very feat all over again. This time, however, that second and third teleportation came with striking ease, those shadows quick to embrace his form without fail till Tetradore was left standing beside the Frenchman where he had so started. His affinity, upon the completion of his goal, was quick to dissipate, leaving them standing back in that crisp brightness of the many lights overhead. That complaint upon his lips at the very luminosity of that room seemed enough to provoke a ready grin upon Matteo's features, the Frenchman all too quick to praise him. That explanation he was provided of the very lights overhead, however, prompted a roll of the Hispanic man's eyes. The sardonic tone he was given was, perhaps, well deserved and yet it was the nudge of Matteo's shoulder against his own that finally prompted some measure of a grin upon his features.

He watched as Matteo strode forward towards one of those walls, only to pluck a singular photograph from that expansive collage that covered nearly every inch of the room. His fingers reached out as the Frenchman offered him the photo, the picture so entirely obscure in that forest displayed in vibrant inks of green. Matteo had, quite certainly, perfected that art of immortalizing moments in time in a truly unidentifiable fashion. Truly, he never would have guessed that photo was taken but mere miles from where the pair now stood. His head bobbed ever so slightly, the Were-King hardly concerned for that jump as he so focused upon that singular image, summoning those shadows that existed in the deep recesses of the room. They crept forward in a billowing ominous sort of fashion, rushing towards the pair of men to cloak them in obscurity. Tetradore casually tossed that photo on the floor, his hand reaching out for Matteo's own as that inky umbrage swirled around them, enveloping them only for those very shadows to unfold like petals of a flower to reveal the bubbling book and chirping of birds beneath the shade of those trees. He had, unintentionally, placed them slightly to the right of that glade and yet, the pair had ended up close enough, all the same, he was assured.

Tetradore's emerald eyes fluttered downwards towards the stream the pair stood upon the bank of, a small frown fixated upon his lips at his own error, even if he said little of it. It was the weight of Matteo's narrowed gaze that caused his own eyes to turn back towards the man and yet, he regarded the fae with little more than a vague lift of his shoulders. After all, his intention hardly mattered when they were both made the trip dry. He watched as Matteo reached out his hand, only for a singular vibrant red scarf to materialize within his fingertips. It was certainly not the first time the fae had utilized such an aspect of his affinity, rare though it was. It was the Ambassador's gesture of the very forest that surrounded them, however, that so tugged at the stoic Alpha's attention. It had, admittedly, been some time since Tetradore had been given the luxury of losing himself in the depths of the woods that surrounded the spiraling metropolis he called home. Though this forest felt distinctly different, the very plethora of nature that surrounded him tugged fiercely at the feline nestled beneath his human skin. That permission he was given was...distinctly tempting, to say the least. "It's been a long while since I've had venison..." Tetradore admitted, the very mention of that particular meal brought back memories of his childhood before his world had been torn asunder.

The movement of the crimson fabric drew his thoughts back to the present as he watched Matteo tie the material in a single knot around his belt loop, leaving a fair bit of it floating down at his side. He could hardly help the rise of his brow at the almost childish game he was presented with. It reminded him terribly of the sort of lesson Tobias might delight within, through he saw the purpose of it well enough, hidden beneath those layers of 'fun' Matteo so clearly chose to engage within. Tetradore was hardly given even a moment to protest before that contest was near forced upon him. The fae in front of him disappeared before a single syllable could leave his lips, only to pop back into existence several feet in front of him on the other side of the stream. That very look upon Matteo's features seemed almost challenging, clearly attempting to goad Tetradore into participating in that very game. A soft sigh left his lips and yet, he was, as always, willing to indulge his father-figure. That umbrage swirled around his figure, all together at the ready before embracing his frame, teleporting him to the other side of that river only to find Matteo conveniently gone once he made it to the other side.

For a moment, Tetradore paused, his emerald eyes scanning the treeline that surrounded him with a vague hint of expectation. Matteo, he was certain, would not have left him within the depths of that forest alone without some hint of where he had gone. All Tetradore had to do was find it. Briefly, he contemplated the very silence that surrounded him before those urges once again began to tug at him. Truly, he saw no reason why he couldn't further indulge himself. Tetradore's head tilted to the side, stretching out his neck before that very gesture was so repeated on the opposite side. He reached up, peeling that shirt from his muscular frame. That article of clothing fell on the floor before his hand went to his jeans, undoing the button to push them too to ground. That shift came over the were-creature, shedding mortal flesh for the silky ebony fur of the feline. He shook out his fur, stretching out his figure. God, it felt good to return to that were-form of his own accord. His jaws parted, letting that yawn cross his lips as his ears flicked, keenly listening to the world that surrounded him. Tetradore's intelligent emerald eyes turned upwards through the trees, eyeing the figure of his father-in-law. An almost chuffing sound left the cat's lips as he meandered towards the trunk of the tree, circling it in an almost amused fashion. He had, quite unintentionally treed Matteo.

The panther lifted upwards, the front of his paws settled on the trunk of the tree before his claws dug into that bark with the clear intention of climbing upwards. His own affinity rushed towards him, embracing and surrounding the ebony cat to teleport him up that very tree. Though Matteo might have induced that very game of chase, Tetradore was far more inclined to hunt his companion - good natured though it was.

aiden tetradore