The differences between this Dorian here before him and the one they had left at home was so utterly profound that it was near alarming. The Dorian of this world held a confidence and assurity in his fighting prowess- one so strikingly similar to Alexander that the Frenchman so hardly doubted the Monarch's insistence that the Macedonian had been his teacher. The Dorian of this world, it seemed, had absorbed but everything Alexander had to teach in a fashion as....incredible as it was alarming. Those fatherly instincts, however, had so hardly lessened. Whether or not this Dorian was his Dorian so hardly seemed to matter. The very notion that the younger Fae intended to fight some sort of mafia alone was near ludicrous. Matteo was nothing short of determined to at least accompany him. Alexander's assurance that they, in the very least, might stop Dorian from dying managed to...sooth at the edges of that concern that so clearly tugged at the Frenchman as his silver gaze lingered upon his elder son and Sebastian as they headed for the door. Capable or not he so hardly intended to let Dorian throw himself at the mafia- or whoever it was the Monarch intended to face. Matteo moved to fall into step behind the pair- just as that impending future seemed to strike behind his eyes with a determined force. The very force that so often came when Aiden's life was....threatened in some fashion. The soft, near subtle brush of Alexander's hand readily prompted Matteo's attention away from the younger men and his own mind's eyes. His gaze settled upon his own Father. Such gestures of...reassurance were rare for the Macedonian. Hmm, perhaps the...stress of this world showed more clearly upon him then he intended. Matteo, in most instances, was nothing if not masterful at concealing whatever distress turned within him. Then again, if there was any being on this plant likely to see through such a thing it was surely his own Father. Alexander had spent far too long at his side not to see what the Fae so often hid from the world at large.

The very knowledge that he could see his Isabella again was...everything and yet Aiden needed him too. That distinct determination to return to his younger son tugged at him near potently. He had never...abandoned Aiden. Not when he needed him. Those visions were still....uncertain and yet a distinct sense of dread had already settled within the Frenchmans chest. Surely there was some way to return to their world sooner rather than later? He couldn't possibly wait three days! That soft shake of Alexander's head prompted the return of a look of frustration to Matteo's own features. The Macedonian Hunter was content to insist that a witch, perhaps, might aid their need for supernatural energy and yet- even then- that level of power would surely be outside her ability. One hand lifted to run through the Frenchman's hair as they trailed behind Dorian and Sebastian. That distress, for once, decidedly clear upon his features. Alexander efforts to insist that at least Aiden couldn't die so hardly lessened that anxiety that gnawed at is mind.

"It is not his death I fear. I have never....left him alone. When she is....done, I have always been there. Every time, Alex. He needs me. It is one of the few aspects of parenting I have not...failed at in some way."

How inclined Matteo so often was to insist that his parenting of both his sons had been exemplary in every fashion and yet how readily the Frenchman knew that truth. His own....failings in that singular area were a decided sore point within his very soul and yet how rarely he so ever dared utter that truth. Alexander, perhaps, the only being whom truly knew how desperately Matteo tried for his children. The both of them. He had never left Aiden to recover alone. The Frenchman hardly inclined to start now. It was fortunate, perhaps, that Matteo's attention was hardly inclined to linger long upon that pressing future- not when the immediate present and just how Dorian was moving so unobtrusively through the streets so garnered his focus. Hmmm. The Monarch's ability to be visible to only those he chose was...impressive. The West itself however was anything but. The entire western side of the city had fallen into complete....disrepair. One hardly had to look far to decide the streets were unsafe. Every alleyway and abandoned store carried with it a sense of unease. Even The Ark, rising like a steel titan in the harbor, seemed far more...foreboding beneath the command of someone other than his own son. Dorian's insistence that Evero had taken over that place was nothing short of surprising. Matteo's query on whether that was the same Azrael they knew prompted a lift of his eyes. Alexander, in turn, appeared equally taken aback. The Hunter insisting this Dubios, in their world, was nothing short of Azrael's Secret-But-Not girlfriend. Hmmm. A lovers feud then? Still, the Azrael they knew, even while strictly law abiding was hardly...weak in any sense. Would this one be any different? Surely Dorian didn't intend to fight him alone, did he?

Matteo's thoughts on the matter so hardly progressed any further however. Sebastian's sudden pausing prompted that party at large to turn. Those men who had been tailing them equally inclined to halt in their tracks. It had been...decades since anyone had been bold enough to follow Alexander and himself. The Frenchman, in that moment, was far more inclined to surprise than any true sense of worry. Alexander and himself, after all, could surely dispatch mere thugs fairly easily. Although what on earth they wanted so remained to be seen. Such a question,however, so apparently destined to go largely unanswered as a pair of ebony blades effortlessly dispatched the two weaker of the men- the third falling victim to Dorian's sword but moments later with a striking, near cold efficacy. How few times Matteo was ever given to be surprised within his life! This, by far, one of the more unexpected. Alexander, in turn, appeared near equally baffled. The pair were left staring in utter astonishment at Dorian's distinctly deft abilities. How decidedly.....different this Dorian was. In every way, from the mild mannered almost overly gentle King they knew. The Monarch, instead, was so apparently unphased by his murder of three people that he inquired after Sebastian's own need to eat! As if such...stabbing was commonplace!

Sebastian, as Dorian near anticipated, was quick to turn down that offer of a meal. Really, the Monarch so hardly blamed his newfound companion in any sense. Such blood was surely tainted in every fashion. It would lack any true flavour or robustness. Indeed, something far more fitting a vampire of...pedigree could surely be found in the ark itself. Dorian near impishly inclined to suggest just such a thing. The curiosity upon the vampires features was so hardly missed as the simper upon the Monarch's lips widened just so. I am certain it will not disappoint you and shall be far more appealing to your tastes then...street rabble. Dorian's features frowned ever so slightly as those fallen men before the King so effortlessly hoisted his sword over his shoulder and began to head towards the Ark once more with Sebastian at his side. Matteo and Alexander left to near stare in the younger man's wake. Alexander's near teasing comment that Matteo had been worried about Dorian's fighting ability was met with a soft snort.

"Frankly, Old Man, I'm worried about yours. He's better than you."

Matteo could hardly prevent the quirk of his lip that followed, that amusement upon his features clear before the Frenchman was inclined to insist he was certain that he could have pulled off that same maneuver- if he'd tried. The near dubious look he was rewarded with prompted a ready glare toward the Macedonian as Alexander insisted he had hardly seen Matteo move that efficiently in a millennium. It was possible, he supposed, that Alexander was right. Ah, but how he had little intention to admit such a thing!

"I have not had any reason to, Mon Amie. Perhaps if I- oh for heaven's sake he's running. Dorian! Where are you going!? Shall we just follow the trail of blood you leave in your wake shall we?"
Yes, actually! That would be quite efficient! Sebastian and I will met you inside!
"Well. He does not understand sarcasm in either world."

Matteo's gaze shifted back toward the Hunter beside him. The pair left in the veritable wake of Dorian and Sebastian, the younger men having broken into a sprint towards that Ark. Did they really have to run? The sigh upon his own lips was, surely, matched by his Father's own. The ancient pair veritable forced to break into a jog to at least remain somewhat behind the Fae and vampire ahead. That Ark, at last left looming before them. Christ it had been a long time since he'd jogged. Alexander was right. He had relied far too much on teleportation over the years. The near ancient Fae ever so slightly....out of breath as they reached the Ark. Matteo near struggling to conceal that very fact from the Hunter beside him.

"The front door should be right over- well....I suppose those dead guards at the front might indicate it. Dorian apparently wasn't lying."

Dorian, it seemed, had taken that 'trail of blood' notion far to literally. Matteo moved to lead the way into the Ark then, the Frenchman stepping over those fallen men only to step into that familiar, cool, open space- to find it all but entirely transformed. Those multiple fighting rings, the bar and higher platforms had disappeared entirely. The Ark consisted of one large, center ring surrounded by a near stadium like seating. A single, higher platform existed at one end. A crude and yet no less impressive throne sat atop it. The black haired man reclined within it so readily identifiable as Azrael himself and yet he appeared almost...bored with the gladiator match being carried out for his amusement below.

"It's like Rome all over again."

Those very words were uttered to Alexander alone. Matteo was forced to shout over the crowd all the same. The Hunter was certain to remember the infamous coliseum. That structure had been decidedly more impressive then this and yet- its purpose had been the same. Azrael's gladiatorial matches, however, seemed to lack even the most basic of rules. Those men currently within the ring were armed with all manner of weapons. The crowd that cheered them on reeked of alcohol. Beer, it seemed, flowed as readily as blood. Where in god's name had Sebastian and Dorian gone in this madhouse of human debauchery? A scream of pain seemed to signal the end of that current match. The victor applauded as the dead and maimed men he had fought were dragged off. Azrael had risen from his seat. The hunter seemingly content to leave- at least until a voice echoed from that ring. Just where Serafina had appeared from Matteo hardly knew. The petite young witch having seemingly appeared within that ring, several young women, suitably armed, stood either side of her- the witch content to throw out that challenge to Azrael himself. Matteo could barely hear the words exchanged between the pair. The roar of that crowd was almost deafening and yet from that smug simper upon Azrael features the Hunter seemed content in his chances of victory. A singular flash of blinding light saw the black-haired Hunter appear in that ring.

"Dorian hardly needed to get involved. These le fou (lunatics) will kill each other for us. Although...how strong is that witch, Alexander? Can you feel anything about her power from here? She may be able to help us if we can...persuade her."

And she survived. Whatever Azrael and Serafina were shouting at each other was near impossible to discern above that crowd- at least until it fell near deathly quiet. A voice Matteo knew far too well struck that silence then. "-and I tire of the both of you. Your senseless, idiotic turf war continues to disrupt this city and my bussiness within it. Dorian, with Sebastian barely a stride behind him, had found his way into that ring in turn.

"How are people getting into this ring! Sacrebleu! Hurry up, Alexander. We need to find a way in before they all kill one another."

Azrael's own features had darkened notably. The hunter's golden gaze shifted from Serafina and her sad little posse of assassins and toward those newest intruders in his ring. That fucking Fairy King and....some vampire. They had some nerve, all of them, to intrude upon his turf. Serafina was hardly a surprise. She had meddled in his affairs for years but His Royal Fucking Majesty was unexpected. It didn't matter. Annoyances were like insects. They could be crushed. Azrael's own hand lifted. That light seemed to surround the Ark near blindingly before that great sword was summoned. The hunter holding it effortlessly in one hand. It had been a long time since his followers had seen him in action. How pleasant of this group of imbeciles to offer themselves up. You have interfered for the last time, Dubios. As for you, your Majesty. You and your little boy toy can fuck right off. The great sword moved effortlessly within the Hunter's hand, sweeping an ark, that tip pointed toward Dorian before a beam of light fired from it. Azrael had every intention of incinerating that King where he stood.
Only for another Fae to suddenly appear and push the monarch aside. A fae who looked...confused.

Matteo had no sooner knocked Dorian aside then the Frenchman reached for his own affinity in an effort to summon his own favoured sword and deflet that light beam. That weapon call abruptly....failing.

"Where on earth is my swor-"

That his sword had, perhaps, been destroyed with the him of this world had failed to occur to the Frenchman. That beam of light colliding with the Fae mere seconds later- Matteo sent flying. The unfortunate Fae was tossed by that blast straight into Alexander- the pair knocked down and into the dust with a yelp. One that prompted Dorian to whirl towards them, the Monarch having already righted himself, his silver gaze narrowed on the toppled pile of his Father and Grandfather. Will you two please cease to get in the way! Sebastian, Mon Cher, cover my left. Dorian near whirled in place once more, two daggers launched from his hand- one at Azrael and the second at Seraphina.

c'est dur d'être un dieu.