With the vibrations of the thin branch, Tetradore was altogether quick to seek the comforting stability of solid ground. His shadows unfurled around the ebony panther as his paws touche the earth, the man entirely unprepared to find the fae Frenchman behind him. His own instincts screamed of the man's presence just moments before Matteo's fingers reached out to grab the skin upon the back of his neck. The action alone so terribly caught him off guard, that yelp of surprise so quickly rising to his lips as he was all but capitulated into the air, appearing in mere seconds some great distance above the ground. His emerald eyes widened and yet, his boy was quick to react in a wholly instinctive fashion, twisting and turning in free fall to right himself in preparation for the landing that would surely be altogether devastating if he allowed himself to plummet all the way down. His paws spread out as the air screamed by him, setting his very fur on edge. Tetradore's vibrant gaze turned upwards towards the fae as Matteo all but shouted over the whooshing of air that afflicted his too sensitive ears. He could hardly help that look of utter betrayal that momentarily was mirrored in the depths of his irises.

It was the very first time, admittedly, that Tetradore had felt Matteo's power, the very sensation of it had been discombobulating and yet, with that ever rushing danger, Tetradore was quick to focus upon the problem just underneath him - the ground. Though that lesson was one Tetradore was quick to learn, he knew well Matteo was testing his own affinities in the process, this only further expanding upon that first exercise within the depths of Matteo's own brightly colored photo room. He watched as the Frenchman quickly regained speed to catch up to his own far heavier form, the Were-King's own affinity expanded to reach for his power, those shadows, though they spawned easily enough in the overcast sky, failed to account for the sheer speed he ricocheted towards the ground at. The very beginning of that panic filled the panther's chest, prompting an almost sickening vertigo within his already dissatisfied frame. His own desperation was almost noted in that sheer demand at which he so summoned his own shadows, those tendrils of umbrage so speedily rushing towards his inky frame to envelop the panther at quite the last precarious moment, thankfully taking him from that rapid descent to solid ground all over again.

His emerald eyes turned upwards, only to watch with a hint of anxiety as Matteo's form fell ever closer towards the ground. The ebony feline stepped closer towards the falling fae's path, that concern clear as his shadows swirled around him, the Panther was unwilling to allow any harm to come to his faux father with his own presence. It was entirely stereotypical of Matteo to revel in such displays of ostentatiousness as the fae waited till near the absolute last moment before vanishing, only to reappear in seconds not terribly far from the feline himself. A soft huff left his lips as his head turned with the slightest snap of the tree branches underfoot. Unfortunately, Tetradore was hardly given a moment to react before the lithe fae was darting off into the forest, so prompting a game of chase. For a moment, Tetradore was content to simply stare at Matteo's fleeting form, a long, almost exasperated sigh left his parted jaws before his eyes rolled ever so slightly. Really? Were they truly resorting to this? His shadows quickly embraced him, teleporting the jungle cat across the expanse of the forest and towards the fleeing fae, his paws lightly touching down on the ground at that newly regained distance before he allowed his lanky form to stretch out, darting after the fae with his elongated lope.

Tetradore was altogether quick to close the distance between the pair, even though he made no effort to immediately go for the scarf that dangled around Matteo's waist. After all, the fae had to know that an outright charge was...well...easy. His paws gripped the earth as the panther raced after Matteo, altogether following the man's path with relative ease as his much stronger form pushed off the boulder, but moments after Matteo, using it to sharply change directions to follow the fae that had jeered so abruptly off his original course. He made little effort to follow his nose, at least, not yet when he had managed to keep the fae within his eyesight. He paused at the base of a particularly large tree, the trunk itself had obscured his view for several moments, resulting in a small sniff of the air the surrounded him. It hardly took Tetradore long to find that smell so uniquely Matteo, the panther bounding after it only to leap over a fallen long and come, face to face, with the riverbank - and the fae that awaited him. A part of him was, admittedly, rather pleased to see the Frenchman so out of breath after such a mad dash and yet, the point of his finger alone drew his gaze towards flimsy tree branch that red scarf now balanced so precariously on, just feet above the very surface of that still bubbling brook.

Tetradore eyed the fluttering piece of fabric, comprehending with ease exactly what Matteo had desired of him. This was yet another test of the teleportation technique that he had learned within the photo room - as he had taken to calling it. Any further consideration he might have had of the conundrum he was presented with, however, was stopped as the fae so abruptly stepped in front of him. His emerald eyes glanced upwards towards the crouching Frenchman and yet, Tetradore was hardly prepared for the touch of Matteo's hand against his head. It was certainly not peculiar in any fashion, really. Matteo had seen the feline countless of times before, the panther once had spent a greater portion of his time as the sleek cat then the man he was, thanks entirely to that lifetime spent in captivity. He hardly fought that brush of fingers against his fur, the feline instead leaning into that touch as Matteo scratched behind his ear, only to brush downwards beneath his chin. That purr was altogether a rarity and yet, here within the depths of the forest - far from that world he had been confined to for so long, his guard and fallen enough to prompt that rumbling like sound deep within the feline's chest.

It was the idle comment of becoming a rug however, that so abruptly prompted the very end to that purring sound as those emerald eyes opened. The panther jerked abruptly away with a puff of air leaving his nose, his own thoughts upon such a consideration decidedly clear even in spite of the laughter he was given at such a reaction. That ruffle of the fur on his head caused his nose to twitch before the feline rose a singular paw, licking the pads of it before making some effort to groom himself and straighten the very fur that Matteo had so unorderly disrupted. He all but ignored the Frenchman at that moment, much less the fae's gesture and assurance that it would be a 'shame' to get wet. Rather, it was only once Tetradore was assured his own fur was back the very state it belonged in that the jungle cat turned his attention towards the draped cloth. This was, he was certain, not what he had anticipated when he'd dragged himself from the warm comfort of those ivory sheets this morning. A soft sigh left the feline's lips before those shadows rushed towards him, dancing at his feet with his own readiness. For several moments he eyed the scarf and the water below it, simply prowling upon the bank in an almost restless fashion - even if he was anything but. Rather, the jungle cat was far more poised and pragmatic than he had been perhaps all morning.

His pacing was, admittedly, quite purposeful - the Were-King as attentive to the Frenchman as he was the scarf, searching for any hint of crimson to those blissfully silver eyes. Tetradore paused almost abruptly, his paw alone brushing against Matteo's sneaker and yet, that touch was all that he required, his shadows so quickly striving to envelop them both. They reappeared within moments just beneath that branch, providing Tetradore just enough time to reach snap at that scarf before the pair of men fell. Though Matteo might have disliked the notion of getting wet, Tetradore himself had no distaste to the river. After all, his very species relished in that water. This was, admittedly, not what the Frenchman had planned for them and yet, dousing the fae in the river seemed very much like a suitable sort of revenge for that impromptu skydiving lesson.

aiden tetradore