Alexander Macedonia

when I walk into the room there's nothing you can do
To stop me from making moves
I'm coming for you

A smug simper toyed with the corners of the Englishman's lips as he eyed the Monarch across from him. How well Sebastian knew that look that danced in those entrancing silver irises - that simple stare of desire. He was quick to taunt the King with the very ideas of what he was capable of providing, his own confidence utterly undeniable even as it prompted the rise of Dorian's brow in surprise. "I would be delighted to do so," Sebastian answered smoothly, the vampire's tongue gingerly brushing against his teeth in an anticipation of what he would only be denied as Matteo interrupted that conversation between the men once again. A soft breath of disappointment left Sebastian's lips and yet...how well practiced he was in patience when it came to his own numerous conquests. Still, it was the very utterance of Isabella that seemed to prompt a reaction within the Frenchman, Matteo so quickly rising to his feet. How well Alexander knew the hurt that still existed deep within his son, buried underneath layers and layers of alcoholic nights, dulled somewhat by time, and yet...still there all the same. How well the King knew that hurt himself just as he too remembered flawlessly every night that he had pulled Matteo back from the bring of despair. There was every chance seeing Isabella again might only reopen those wounds and yet...he could hardly bring himself to deny Matteo this.

It was unfortunate, however, that Matteo would be forced to wait sometime longer before he might see his lover again, particularly when Dorian's 'business' was fighting the veritable mafia of the West! This, Alexander was sure, was hardly the nonchalant matter that the Italian made it seem to be! That look if disbelief was present upon both men's features as they stared at the fae in front of him. What had started as minute, subtle differences were now becoming so starkly clear. The version of Matteo's son before them was so far removed from the affable man they knew. He could hardly help the way his gaze so followed Matteo's own towards Sebastian - the Englishman himself having risen with Dorian. The weight of their shared gazes upon him, however, caused that brilliant crystalline hue of Sebastian's eyes to turn towards them, though he regarded the Hunter and fae with merely a veiled look of curiosity - as if he hadn't the slightest idea of the expectations they had of him! Truly...they weren't really about to travel to the west to fight the Mafia themselves, were they?

The very last thing he expected was to have his own lessons spoken back at him - the Dorian of this world had clearly spent extensive time under his tutelage. How well he had absorbed those lessons. Better, really, then Matteo ever had. That admittance on his lips did little more than earn him a distinctly unimpressed look from the Frenchman before Matteo insisted they hardly intended to let Dorian go alone on such a venture. Neither man was prepared for Dorian's teasing jab - the fae swinging so wildly between personifying the pair of them that it was almost dizzying. He held both the confidence of a King as Alexander and yet the unending mischievousness of the fae as Matteo. A scoff left Alexander's lips, the Dark Hunter hardly appreciated the quip when much of Dorian's skill so clearly came from himself. Still, if this is what Dorian had turned into...it led him to wonder, not for the first time, what fate had befallen upon him, much less the brief introspection that he had clearly become...lax in the past few decades. Such contemplations, however, were interrupted by Matteo's declaration that this was somehow his doing. His shoulders lifted in a vague shrug, "I remember you going through a similar stage." The Macedonian retorted - well aware of those years when Matteo had thought he knew more of the world then everyone else who walked it.

His grandson, however, was so quick to move beyond his quip, instead intently focusing upon Sebastian and an invitation for 'tea'. How well they all knew tea was likely the last thing upon the two men's mind! It was...impressive, really, the way the couple so quickly became enraptured within their own world. His very observation of such a thing prompted an easy chuckle from Matteo, the Frenchman merely insisting that they were so...uniquely fated to one another in a way so few ever were. Alexander knew what that sort of love was like....one that made all else seem as if it merely faded into the background. So too, did Matteo. A tiny simper toyed at the corners of his features as the blue-green of his irises shifted towards his son. Soon, Matteo too would remember the very intensity of a love like that. Those very thoughts, however, only became all the more focused upon the quickly emptying glass within Matteo's hand as he lifted it to his lips, drowning it's contents in the same way he had all the others before it. The Frenchman's query of what he had taught Dorian was one Alexander was quick to answer as he reached out to pluck the tumbler from Matteo's hand. Whatever retort the Frenchman was about to offer him was cut off by the very mention of Isabella - Matteo had clearly not yet worked through his own muddled emotions to consider the reality of seeing his soulmate again.

That gentle motion towards the hallway was all that was necessary to prompt Matteo into movement though neither Dorian nor Sebastian seemed terribly keen to provide the elder men even the slightest ounce of their attention. A small frown crossed Alexander's features at Matteo's concern for Dorian's fighting skills and yet...with that level of haughtiness...he could only presume the version of himself in this world had given Dorian the abilities to back up such an ego. "If nothing else, we're here to make sure he doesn't die." Alexander offered reassuringly, his hand brushing against Matteo's shoulder. He could see the effects this world was having upon his son, even despite Matteo's best efforts to hide it. The silence of the fae was almost....concerning and yet that bright flicker of red upon those silver irises told him well of the concerns that rested heavily upon Matteo's mind. A soft sigh left his lips at Matteo's insistence that they needed to return home soon. How well he knew of those evenings Matteo struggled against intervening when it came to Aiden and yet...here...so far from home...there was little they could do. "I know Matteo but..." His lips pressed together before his head shook again, "I can see no way for us to. The ring needs a profound amount of energy to tear open the boundary between worlds for us to pass through. A witch might be able to speed up the process and transfer energy into it but even then...for that much power..." Alexander paused, his brows still furrowed with a hint of concern. "I know it is not what you wish but...Aiden cannot die....not for forever. She made sure of it. Whatever he must endure...he will be alive when we are able to get bac and until then...we'll see Isabella soon." It wasn't enough, how well Alexander knew that and yet he made some effort all the same, even if it was wholly futile.

He was almost relieved, really, as Matteo turned his attention to a far less pressing matter - that curiosity of Dorian's ability to move...unhindered had wholly baffled the Frenchman. Alexander hardly paid much attention to the grin upon his godson's features, his own affinity had long ago informed him well of the Monarch's power at play. Rather, Alexander found himself far more attentive to the drastic change within the West. He could feel it in the air the moment they crossed that intangible boundary between North and West. How...obvious it was the effect that their Aiden had upon the West they were familiar with. Here there was a sort of continual apprehension that permeated the air, the streets far more...derelict and yet, the hulking form of the Ark still occupied the skyline. The Ark...without their Aiden. It was the mention of Evero that caused a visible frown upon Alexander's features and yet...surely it could not be Azrael. Matteo seemed to follow his own train of thought, the Frenchman inquiring after that very thing only for Dorian to confirm it entirely. How far it seemed the angel had fallen. He was so stringent on rules and order that it was hard to imagine the Hunter as the mastermind to a criminial organization. Matteo's inquiry caused Alexander's head to bob, "Yes, he is. Dubios is his witch girlfriend he's trying to keep anyone on the council from finding out about...albeit not very well." Alexander admitted, hardly expecting to find the 'lovebirds' at odds with one another, now that the tables had so drastically turned. Who would have thought the pair might actually be good for one another.

The conversation at large, however, was little more then background noise for the Englishman. He could hear them - the pounding of their hearts, the blood rushing through the veins. He could smell them - Dorian's refined cologne dulled by the salty sweat from his work out, the scent of sun on the skin of the Dark Hunter and fae, and the dirt and grime of them. They had been following a careful distance for nearly two blocks now and yet...now that the small group was in the heart of the West...they had become bold. His head tilted slightly to the side before the vampire abruptly stopped within his tracks. The crystalline hue of his gaze turned behind them almost expectantly, even though Sebastian remained the epitome of poise. The very abruptness of his gesture seemed to prompt the rest of the party to stop, their gazes eventually following his own and towards the men that trailed behind them. Any efforts to go unnoticed ceased the very moment the men realized they had been spotted. The very mention of 'him' caused Sebastian's gaze to shift towards the Italian King, the vibrance of his gaze lingering upon the Monarch. He watched in silence as those ebony blades were summoned into Dorian's hands, the vampire's brow rising ever so slightly and yet, he said nothing of it as they were thrown with marked precision into the chests of the theifs.
Sebastian was hardly phased by the sheer effectiveness of the King, the men crumpling to the ground in mere moments and yet, it was the crimson hue that spread from their bodies that drew the vampire's attention. Although he had tasted Matteo, he had hardly been given a chance to fully feed. His tongue ran across his bottom lip at the teasing scent of blood though it was hardly pure by any means. He could smell the taint within it, one that would surely affect the very flavor in turn. It was the sound of his name within that Italian lit that drew Sebastian's gaze upwards, the fae King so clearly...attentive...to the way his own gaze lingered upon those dead bodies. That offer to properly eat caught the vampire off guard, his own features betraying him before his head shook ever so slightly. "They will taste foul." He answered simply, far more intrigued by this...something better Dorian offered him. After all, from what the Monarch had said of the Ark, it was unlikely that it would hold anything different then the men at Dorian's feet. "I would like to see what your 'something better' is." The vampire continued, one brow rising with a hint of skepticism. Nevertheless, he fell in step behind Dorian again, glancing only briefly over his shoulder at the surprised faces of Matteo and Alexander behind him.

And how utterly unexpected Dorian's capabilities were! The fae had become everything he had ever tried to teach Matteo. "And you were worried about his fighting abilities." Alexander muttered as he watched the simple confidence with which Dorian so weilded his sword, even though it was simply swung over his shoulder. Slowly, his gaze was pulled from the retreating form of his godson and towards Matteo as the Frenchman insisted he had raised a war monger, of all things. Still, it was Matteo's insistence that Dorian was hardly better then him that prompted a snort from his nose. "I haven't seen you move that effectively in a millennium." Alexander retorted and yet..it was hardly Matteo that lingered upon his mind. If he had trained Dorian to become that...then what had he been like in this world? Alexander had become...lax in the last century, the Hunter considering for the first time if he would have been capable of even besting the version of himself that had belonged in this world. A soft sound echoed upon his lips as he trailed after Dorian, the Ark looming ever closer with each step they took.