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

Serafina. Alexander knew strikingly little of the witch, unfortunately. He was aware of her relationship with Azrael, at least in their world. He knew she worked at a shop that didn't belong to her, the man who owned it had seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet and yet still regularly submitted his taxes every year. Serafina herself hardly seemed to exist, at least on paper, what intel he had gathered about her was largely due to his own observations that any fastidious research. Regardless, any information he might have had would have been useless within this world where so very much was so terribly different. Alexander was hardly the only one to consider the raven haired witch's usefulness, Matteo's inquiry met with a small shake of his head. Either she was smart enough to hide the signature of her own power or she was utterly ordinary. Neither, admittedly, boded well for them. Any efforts to get near her, however, were momentarily put on pause as a third voice echoed out above the roar of the crowd - the congregation around then abruptly falling to silence. How well Alexander knew that voice - Dorian. Alexander immediately found his way towards the edge that looked down into that gladiator pit - his gaze following Matteo's own from Dorian and Sebastian and upwards towards Azrael. How....calm and collected Azrael looked, Alexander certain he saw a hint of a simper at the corners of his features as his hand reached out to summon that striking blade of pure light.

The sound of his name upon Matteo's lips drew his gaze towards the fae. A soft sigh reverberated upon his lips as he glanced down - the drop would hardly be kind...but he had fallen from higher places. With ease he lifted himself up and over the edge of the ring, simply vaulting down in the pit below at the edge. Matteo, he knew, would hardly be far behind him and yet....it still wasn't fast enough. That light beam shot across the arena, the Frenchman near materializing within its wake - just in time for it to slam into the very center of Matteo's chest as he knocked his son to the floor. The fae was tossed across the ring, only to collide solidly into Alexander as he rushed towards the scene, the pair sent tumbling to the floor in a heap. The impact dazed even Alexander, albeit momentarily, before Dorian's voice prompted a scowl upon his features. How dare his godson insist that he was somehow in the way! Especially when Matteo had only just saved him. The Macedonian was quick to recover from that fall, Alexander half dragging Matteo onto his feet in turn. How quickly the damage done to the Frenchman was merely healed away - that shirt no longer in tatters, Matteo's skin once again returned towards its state. The oceanic hue of Alexander's gaze, however, was quick to focus upon the battle before him - Dorian already striking with those jet black blades, though neither hit their mark.

The Dark Hunter's own hand reached out, those matching curved single bladed swords materializing into thin air. His very soul was imbued into those twin blades - near guaranteeing they'd persist regardless of what world or timeline the Alexander found himself within.He handed the katanas towards his son, hs mutterance hardly necessary, he knew, and yet out of habit he still reminded Matteo of the distinct care to be taken with those blades. He, after all, would suffer from any damage that befell upon them. That simple nod was all Alexander needed before the Macedonian turned his attention towards his own sword, his fingers reaching out for the familiarly weighted hilt of his gilded xiphos. How long had it been since he'd wielded such an old friend? Since they had truly gone to war? A small hint of a simper fluttered across the warlord's features as he stepped towards the metaphorical battlefield, his hand so lightly twirling his blade in an effort to 'warm up', so to speak. His steps, however, were halted only by the sound of his name and briefly, the Monarch turned to glance back at the Frenchman behind him. He watched as Matteo twirled his twin swords in his hands. Alexander had long since given up attempting to enforce the fae utilize some sort of shield. After all, with Matteo's ability for teleportation, it was a relatively pointless endeavor. The questioning look within those oceanic eyes was met with an almost teasing comment. "Let's show them what a real battle looks like, Matteo."

Any hope Sebastian might have had, however, of the evenings venture into the Western ward being a short and relatively uneventful moment was so quickly shattered the very moment that Azrael made an effort to strike down the fae Monarch with a beam of light. The very heat of it, the brightness of it, was burned into the vampire's memory. One touch, he knew, would reduce him to ashes. What Dorian asked of him, to remain by the fae King's side, was to face certain death with an infinite amount of trust that the Englishman found himself questioning if he possessed. Still, there was a part of him that was simply incapable of leaving his Fated to face this alone, particularly when half the arena seemed keen to join in on the battle. How quickly the pair were rushed, their attempts to get to Azrael so utterly futile when so many jumped to get into the way. The Fae Monarch, it seemed, had garnered a reputation as a worthwhile opponent. An audible hiss left Sebastian's lips at the very first of those would be challengers - and how quickly those bodies seemed to pile around them. The scent of blood was near overwhelming with each life Sebastian took - his fangs near eager to bite though the blood still paled in comparison to that which he might have otherwise enjoyed. The flavor of adrenaline, of fear and excitement, was somehow more bitter than those emotions that so often tainted the blood of his victims. Still, for each ounce of lifeforce he took - so too did his power grow.

His fangs bit into the warmth of the heart nestled within his bloodied hand, Sebastian had merely torn it from the rib cage of some unfortunate were-creature that now laid unmoving on the floor in a pile of his own, regrettably wasted, blood. How he might have liked to have feasted more...methodically, though the Englishman was well aware he had little right to complain when so many would have relished in the bloodshed that he was invited to partake in. Still, they were here for a purpose and Sebastian was not one to lose his head. The flash of dark ebony hair deeper in the thick of the mob drew the vampire's attention as he slowly dropped to his knees, his hand hovering over the ground in consideration. Beside him, he was well aware of Dorian making every effort to advance and yet...why bother when he could so bring their prey to them. An almost smug simper flashed across Sebastian's features as he so abruptly grabbed that crimson thread only he could see. The Englishman materialized the unbreakable satin bond into reality, it grew taunt near instantly as the thread looped around Azrael's foot in his effort to chase down the witch that had brought forth such chaos in the first place.

How quickly he watched Azrael fall, that yelp near lost within the cacophony of shouts and screams from the anarchy surrounding them. He hardly waited for the Hunter to regain his footing, however, before yanking on that crimson thread, it dragged Azrael upon the ground like a fish in the water. He was hardly surprised by that sudden burst of speed the Hunter employed, pulling the thread stiff once again, the suddenness of the action forced the vampire to take a singular step forward before his otherworldly strength was once again deployed to put a swift end to those antics. His ribbon, after all, would never break, no matter how much Azrael pulled and yanked and flew. How quickly Azrael seemed to realize his fate, those golden irises briefly met the striking crystalline hue of Sebastian's own in a silent understanding of exactly what was occurring. He could see the Hunter's lip moving, though the words were entirely lost upon him. What he hadn't anticipated, admittedly, was for the Dark Hunter to roll forward. A bright golden light surrounded the Hunter, that sword near abandoned entirely as Azrael suddenly shot forward. "Oh, bloody hell." The words where but a mutterance upon Sebastian's lips as he dropped that ribbon, the vampire entirely aware of the attention he'd garnered and the effect that light would have, should Azrael even so much as touch him.

The vampire immediately vaulted backwards, striving to put some distance between himself and the oncoming onslaught of light. It was futile, a part of him aware that Azrael was just as quick, if not faster then himself. Already he reached for those ribbons, they alone might provide some level of defense from impending death. The sudden burst of flames between them caught the vampire off guard - the wall of flickering flames burst upwards and out, as if it was equally as determined to ensnare him as it would Azrael. It was that shout across the room that drew the Englishman's gaze. Matteo - how....unexpected. He could hear Azrael's feet against the dirt, and steel of the boat, the Hunter striving valiantly to stop before he slammed into those flames. The makeshift wall in front of them dispersed the very moment the Hunter came to a halt - providing both vampire and fae with a singular opportunity to strike. The crystalline blue of Sebastian's gaze darted towards Dorian, ensuring the Italian was well aware of how important that singular moment was before he lunged forward.

Effortlessly, his blade sliced through fabric and flesh and sinew, though Alexander expected no less as he cleaved his blade through the chest of a hardly innocent warlock. It was almost too easy, the supernatural that surrounded him hardly much of a threat to the Warlord. This was hardly an army, most of those that lay slain at his feet had hardly been able to efficiently attack so much as just flail wildly within Alexander's general direction. The Dark Hunter was hardly one to tarry, however, Alexander leaving a very visible path within his wake as he made an effort to move towards Dorian and Sebastian. It was a task that would have gone far more effectively if the sheer number of Azrael's warband hadn't seen fit to practically throw themselves at him. How well aware he was of the affinities being thrown around the arena, the flare of each one caused his own gift to kick in, the Dark Hunter well aware of each strength and weakness and capability utilized. It could be...distracting, to say the least, but Alexander had years of experience of fine tuning his own thoughts. He was vaguely aware of Matteo's flames, flickering in the corner of his periphery and yet Alexander was instead forced to focus his attention upon the were-creature that was attempting, rather poorly, to make the Dark Hunter his dinner.

He was unaware of Dorian and Sebastian's assault - that was until, suddenly, everything changed. Simple, raw, unadulterated power surged through the room, the very weight of it near forcing everyone to pause to simply behold it as Azrael flared with a brightness that near rivaled the sun. Even Alexander was forced to avert his gaze from the blinding flash before, suddenly the light subsided as quickly as it came, even if that feeling of power did not. A notable frown crossed Alexander's lips as silently observed the transformation that had overcome the once angelic Dark Hunter. How far Azrael had fallen from grace. It had been quite a long while since Alexander had encountered the manifestation of a demonic soul. This, he suspected, was far greater than even Dorian had likely anticipated. A soft breath left his lips as Matteo appeared beside him, the Frenchman's word nothing short of obvious. "I'll take care of him." The Macedonian answered, only to finally reach for his own sparsely utilized affinity. Such a power was one that hardly answered to every call - that part of his soul content to remain dormant until absolutely necessary and yet, now, that ability seemed almost eager to be unleashed.

A golden hue began to envelope the Dark Hunter's fit figure accompanied by a sudden fluctuation of his own signature affinity. His once oceanic pupils were slowly flooded with a luminous golden hue that blotted out even the whites of his eyes. Electricity seemed to flutter around him, crackling against his blade that too shifted with his soul. That once cold steel now held the same radiant glow, it's shaft sparking with the same divine lightning. His soul, so akin to Zeus himself, had so clearly called to Alexander's newest acquisition, the golden bracelets upon his wrists were eager to respond to the presence of a god. He knew Azrael would notice his presence, after all, where once his fellow Dark Hunter's power was all but suffocating, now Alexander's rose to choke it in turn. The riff-raff that had once so easily thrown themselves at him now seemed to second guess themselves, the Macedonian given a wide berth as he stepped forward, his voice so easily heard over the hush that had befallen the Ark. "You know, I never really disliked you, Azrael, but I think I'll enjoy this after all those damn fines you always give out. Let's see what you've got."

Stay in the kitchen. He'd said, like she belonged in a fucking kitchen. Oh how utterly infuriating she found him - pretending to be all high and mighty when his thunderdome was a fucking eyesore in the West. The thing had more rust then it had paint and now, now he'd simply forgotten about her entirely like she was yesterday's news to go to war with a fucking vampire?! The stormy hue of her gaze narrowed as Serafina watched that transformation unfold. This was what she had been waiting for. Azrael had finally come out to play - just not with her. Her fingers drummed lightly upon her forearm, her arms crossed just beneath her bosom. This was not at all how Serafina had anticipated the day to go. The fairy King had been an intrusion - an unwelcomed one, which was saying something considering he looked like the perfect sort of prey for the sex kitten. Fine. If he wanted to view her as little more than a 'pest', she would show him exactly how big of a pain in his ass she could be. Maybe then he'd take her seriously - maybe then, he'd actually learn his god damned lesson not to fuck with her or her girls.

Unlike the men in the room, Serafina hardly needed some ostentatious display of power. She hardly needed to flare like a bloody beacon for everyone to feel. And really, why should she? It wasn't as if this fight required the full extent of her capabilities. They were surrounded by her element. A small dip into the well of her capabilities was all that was necessary - her skin almost seeming to pale ever so slightly, her fingers were graced with a faint tinge of blue as the empress of ice so made this battle field her domain. She could feel it - the water pressing in on the hull of the boat and quickly she reached for it, few likely to notice the way the ship seemed to groan in protest. Abruptly, the side of the boat gave way as a giant icicle penetrated it's side, followed by another and another. Those holes were, thankfully, largely still sealed, the very presence of her ice kept the Ark from immediately capsizing and yet, water began to trickle in all the same. Serafina hardly wanted to destroy the boat - that is, she didn't want to yet. She was still upon it, so were her girls, but the very presence of the ice was enough to cause those of her people that remained alive to begin rushing towards the exit. They after all, knew what this meant. "Matteo, deal with that!" A voice called out amongst the chaos. Deal with it? Ha, as if any man could simply 'deal with' her. A soft snort of bemusement left Serafina's lips as she watched chaos erupt around her. Oh, she'd love to see how they dealt with this.