death incarnate & night triumphant

He couldn't stop the rage that so exploded from within him, Andras entirely focused on beating Matteo into a pulp as the man continued to poke and prod him, those barbs at his family simply enraging him further. He couldn't remember the last time he had let his anger get the better of him, it had been centuries since he had destroyed something simply because he was upset, and here he was, destroying his townhouse. And as he let that affinity take ahold of him, peering into Matteo's mind, he was that much closer to catching him, yet, the faerie could still teleport faster than he could run, though he was certain he would tire out eventually. Everyone had their limits, magic usage came from somewhere and he was confident he could run far longer than Matteo could teleport. Since he seemed content to anger Andras further, he very much doubted the man would teleport somewhere where Andras couldn't reach him. So, he tramples through the corridor, knocking pictures down, destroying the kitchen table, even going so far as to pick up a chair and throw it at the fleeing faerie. Of course, nothing actually hit the man, it only continued to destroy his home piece by piece.

It was probably a rather good thing the Faerie Lord didn't have neighbors, a disturbance call was the last thing he needed as he continued to chase Matteo again and again, his panting becoming ragged not because of exhaustion but because of frustration. When the faerie appears on top of the fridge in the kitchen, Andras already has another lamp held within his hand, getting ready to throw it at the fellow man and yet, Matteo's voice pauses him, managing to gather his attention as Andras pauses in his shot-put of material. Glancing up at him, he grips the lamp tighter as Matteo speaks again, Andras freezing as the man speaks of his mother. If Andras wasn't murderous before, he was now... and he truly lost sight of everything within his home, all he could see was red, the fury exploding from him like a force in itself as he grips that dark power he so rarely used, lashing out with it as it slices through walls and breaks water pipes. Roaring his anger, he doesn't even notice when Matteo teleports out of the house, instead he lets the fury take ahold of him.

He doesn't know if it was hours or if it was minutes as he nearly levels the inside of his house, water spraying from the broken pipes, flooding the ground. It was a miracle the electricity hadn't been damaged as holes through walls were made with his fists and his magic affinities. Eventually, his temper begins to burn out, only left with exhaustion as he makes his way towards the couch, the only item in the house unbroken, and plops down, hardly caring his wings were crumpled beneath him. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face into his hands. He's aware the moment Matteo teleports back into the destroyed house, Andras far too tired to summon the anger that once gripped him, though, he doesn't even manage to look at the fellow faerie as grief flows through his body. He doesn't respond to his name and barely moves when Matteo rests a hand on his shoulder, his accented words quietly heard. The faerie is silent a moment longer before dropping his hands away from his face and looking up at the elder man.

"You truly think she will find it in her heart to forgive me?" He murmurs, his eyes painful, showing a brief vulnerability that he so rarely let anyone see, with the exception of Ida. "I can't imagine a day that she might smile again, I feel as if I've ruined her life. We are not gods to chose when and who might live, gain immortality. It is something I despise of our kind, that one must die in order to become like us," he sighs, looking away. It was cruel, and yet, his father created many faeries for his army, when the only kind of war was through magic and swords. His father did not care who lived and who died, he cared for only winning, a reason why Andras so decided there would be no changes within his realm. "I apologize for my actions, Matteo. I... I haven't thrown my temper around like that in centuries. I don't blame you, I was blinded by my emotions, I know well enough that the future is sometimes set in stone; I merely wanted someone to blame," he glances back up at Matteo before standing and ruffling his wings slightly. "Would you care for a drink? I'm sure I can scrounge something up in this mess," he offers apologetically.

Andras Steinhello darling