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

There was a fierceness to each blow as Azrael's sword clashed with a resounding metallic tang against Alexander's far smaller xiphos. It required pinpoint accuracy from the ancient Macedonian, to parry each and every strike of that far larger, heftier claymore. Had his blade been made from the bronze of his age, it would have undeniably cracked beneath the weight of Azrael blows, and yet, neither the demonic Hunter nor the age old Greek seemed inclined to consider such semantics as their exchange of swordplay continued with lightning speed. It was fascinating, really, to see the marked changes within Alexander's co-worker, if Azrael could be called that. The Monarch had never witnessed the Dark Hunter lift any sharpened point beyond a foam noodle when he thought his presence within Hyde Park might go unnoticed. And now, here he was, wielding the weight of a claymore as if it was no more than a bag of feathers. Fortunately, the art of combat was one Alexander excelled in, even with the disadvantage his shorter, smaller blade seemingly provided him. Abruptly, Azrael pivoted upon his foot, that long blade no longer Alexander's worry as his own disappeared into thin air. His hands were quick to reach up and catch Azrael's leg, even in spite of the force behind that roundhouse kick. The demon's ankle slammed into the palm of his hand, his other hand caught the opposing hunter's calf as Alexander so flawlessly redirected the energy of that kick. A part of him was eternally aware of that barbed tail, the Conqueror near expected it as it swung towards him.

How truly foolish his fellow hunter was, to think even that tail with it's deadly point might be enough to best the great Alexander. The battlefield, after all, was his very domain, no general, no singular warrior had filled the pages of the history books quite like he had. He hardly had to gesture towards the sheets of metal before they quite literally bent to his whim. The metal shifted upwards with a resounding screech - directly within the path of the tip of the Hunter's tail. It was hardly enough to truly stop the force of the sharpened bone, the demon's tail still slicing through and yet, it had dispersed enough of the impact to allow Alexander to dodge it with the same deft movement he had displayed throughout the entirety of the fight thus far. The hissed rage upon Azrael's lips hardly perturbed the Macedonian in the slightest, the King looked upon those pointed teeth with little more than a raised brow. For a singular moment, Azrael's attention seemed to shift away from him - how quickly the demonic man would learn what a mistake that was. Immediately his blade materialized within his hand as Alexander lunged forward, pressing the offense in a way that demanded Azrael's attention.

The demon's tail lurched backwards with a high pitched sound, the claymore within Azrael's hands turned to present Alexander the flat of his blade as he parried each blow the Macedonian had to offer. His inability to break through the other Hunter's guard hardly concerned him, Alexander far more focused upon positioning Azrael exactly where he wanted him. Each assault, after all, gained him the ground he desired until their shoes were splashing into the water that had begun to pool in the far corners of the boat. A roar filled the depths of the Ark, Azrael clearly did not enjoy finding himself boxed into the corner. A grin slowly peeled across Alexander's features, though his satisfaction was short lived before Azrael shoved his claymore into the Macedonian, forcibly pushing him stumbling backward a few precious steps before Alexander regained his stance. That space, however, was all the demon required before that light seemed to flare around the Hunter, those snide words little more than a hiss. Alexander's brows furrowed and yet, before he had a chance to even query after the peculiar phrase, his own affinity kicked in, informing him exactly of the depths of Azrael's power right at the same moment his feet began to rise off the ground. There was decidedly little Alexander could do as he was hurled upwards and into the air, the Dark Hunter left floating uncontrollably above the battlefield entirely.

A Greecian curse left his lips as he attempted to twist within air, at least enough to keep the clawing Dark Hunter within his gaze as Azrael effortlessly scaled the sides of the ship, his every movement accompanied by an ear splitting screech of those claws against metal. No sooner than Azrael reached the height Alexander was left helplessly floating at did he leap off into the air. How well aware the Macedonian was of what was to come, even if it was little more than a vague notion. This was undoubtedly going to hurt...and likely bruise, though the fall was unlikely to kill him. After all, he had survived worse. The Dark Hunter summoned his own sword, even if he knew well that clashing with that claymore would do little more than at least ensure the tip of the blade didn't touch his flesh. Gravity, after all, would have done Azrael's work for him...had Alexander been a mere mortal. That impact was...teeth shattering, to say the least, that gravitation field that the Dark Hunter had hung within seemed to dissipate the very moment that the claymore struck his own smaller sword, leaving Alexander falling rapidly towards the ground. He braced for the impact, even as his own affinity so quickly began to twist and warp the metal he was bound to collide into, the very sound of his body hitting to ground almost seemed to reverberate within the relatively empty hull of the ship. Jesus...fucking Christ....that...hurt.

Serafina, however, was hardly perturbed by the noise on the other side of the Ark when she had her own curious little conundrum staring so defiantly at her. Those red ribbons trailed within the wake of the vampire, moving with a serpentine grace as if they were sentient all upon their own. Still...surely they were just ribbons. What was a vampire going to do with just some pretty ribbons? An impish smile spread across the witch's painted lips and yet...despite her interest within the man in front of her...she was quickly alerted to the presence of another. Oh how dastardly! He thought he could deceive her with some trick of the eye? As if his very body did not sing for her! How keen she was to tease his vampire lover as her affinity for ice so reached out to ensnare even the ever handsome Italian King. Oh yes, there he was, the kiss of her ice too great to even allow him to hide. How pretty he looked with that thin layer of blue tinge to his skin, his very body seemed to spasm with the cold that Serafina so eagerly embraced as her fingers trailed up his arm. It was the hiss of that foreign voice that caused her to frown as she immediately reached for his chin, grasping his face within her hand. "Don't be rude now." She chastised him sharply. "You are in no place to command me, Your Majesty." There was a mocking hint to her tone before she released him, Serafina instead shifted to allow her head to rest upon his shoulder as her attention turned astutely back towards Sebastian.

There was no doubt the concern within the Englishman's gaze as the crystalline hue of his irises shifted between witch and fae. Killing Serafina was...sickeningly easy of a task and yet...Sebastian had little idea of how quickly she was capable of calling her affinity. Would he be able to strike first? Before her ice had reached his Fated's heart? The desperation within Dorian's gaze was enough to make him try - at least, before a subtle hint of a power made him hesitate. Sebastian, however, was hardly the only one who had noticed that power at work. Oh no, how foolish was that damn fae to think she wouldn't notice some variation of her own affinity turned back upon her! To think he could steal her life! The audacity of it all! Abruptly, the young woman stood upward from her leaning position, a scowl crossed her feminine features, this stupid fae was not playing the victim role to her liking. He was supposed to be all sad and mopey and defenseless, not creating trouble that demanded her attention. "Just what do you think your doing?" She inquired abruptly, the cold, icicle hue of her gaze turned back towards Dorian, her fury so quick to get the best of her. "How dare you." Serafina hissed as a single hand reached out for Dorian's own, her own affinity was far more raw. It had little to do with the sharing of life, with the witnessing of it, no, that would be far too sweet, far too kind. Her power did little more than take. And take she did, Serafina hardly hesitated to take back the very thing that was hers to begin with as her other hand rose sharply, flying across Dorian's cheekbones in a loud slap.

The resounding sound caused a hiss to leave Sebastian's lips. He might have been willing to tolerate Serafina's presence near the fae Monarch out of fear for what she was capable of doing to him...but to all out strike what was his?! The vampire leapt forward quite at the same moment Matteo's arrow found its home, the presence of it alone caused the witch to step back as the arrow burst into flames - right, unfortunately for her, into the waiting arms of one particularly irritated vampire. She hardly had a moment to realize just whom she had run into before his teeth found purchase within her neck, delivering that delicate concoction of venom that prompted a scream upon her lips. His threads were quick to embrace her, one serpentine snake wrapped quickly around the witch's feet, the second tying itself ever so neatly around her hands and yet, for once, Sebastian did not take the moment to adequate feed. For once, there was no revenge to be had as he so quickly dropped the tied up witch upon the cold metal floor underfoot. The entirety of his concern was solely focused upon the Italian Monarch, even though Serafina's ice had melted thanks to that now near innocent seeming arrow within the wet floor. "Are you okay?" He inquired as, tenderly, Sebastian's hand rose to brush against the fae's jawline, so clearly inspecting the Italian for any hint of lasting damage. His studious observations, however, swiftly came to an end as Sebastian's head abruptly turned towards Azrael and the now rising from the water Alexander, the vampire innately aware of that change in the air and what it so surely meant.

It took him a moment, unfortunately, to pull himself from the metal that had wrapped around his figure in a less than kind embrace. The impact had knocked the breath out of the Macedonian, though the demi-god was certainly incapable of being undone by merely one downward toss. The blue-green of his gaze narrowed upon the demonic being in front of him as that electricity that surrounded Alexander began to crackle exuberantly. The very first of Matteo's arrows hit it's mark just as Alexander's sword became encased in that near pulsating electricity, one that seemed to change the very air that surrounded him. A shout left his lips as the Dark Hunter lunged forward, allowing that very electricity to encase him and expand outwards with little concern. The sharp, electrified point of his blade pierced Azrael's chest, that lightning spider webbing outwards as it danced through the water on the ground, crackling and hissing as the electrical current crossed every singular wet surface and every being within it. He could hear Azrael's shout as his blade found its home, and yet the Dark Hunter hardly stopped as he pushed his sword further into the Dark Hunter's chest. Vaguely, he was aware of Sebastian dragging Dorian out of the ice and water onto safer, dryer ground, allowing Alexander to focus entirely upon the creature in front of him. The Dark Hunter yanked his blade out of Azrael's chest, the King merely watching nonchalantly as the once demonic man's body slumped to the ground, the heap of it splashing electrified water in all directions before he laid there, unmoving. Whether or not he survived or was merely unconscious hardly mattered to Alexander, the luminosity that showcased his own godliness faded ever so gently before his sword so too disappeared. At the very least....that was taken care of. The oceanic hue to his gaze turned towards his son in the rafters, only to gesture towards the gang plank, "Come on, we have to get out of here before the ship sinks." He commented with surprising calm, particularly considering the very way the boat had begun to take on water more rapidly now that Serafina had too passed out from her own brush with venom and electricity combined.