The rise and fall of the King's chest was hardly discernable as his body was discarded upon the velveteen sofa of her office. He was vaguely aware of the soft material as it brushed against his cheek and yet, his emerald eyes stared with an almost blank look at the wall opposite of him. Her venom ran rampant through his veins, the very potency only furthered the realism of those hallucinations that afflicted him - his vision was bathed in flames, coated in blood, and filled with death. For several long moments, he simply laid there until the petite frame of the female panther crept tentatively towards him. The very touch of her tongue caused him to flinch as he blinked several times as if trying to focus on that singular sensation he was certain had to be real. It was...wasn't it? His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly and yet, the man offered the feline little more than a grunt as she nudged him with her head. It was far too tempting to just...stay there. He was tired. So tired. It was the sudden wetness of her tongue upon his cheek that finally prompted movement from the Were-King. Slowly, he dragged himself upward into a sitting position, his head rolled back against the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling and the hellish creatures only he could see.

It was the singular thought of home that punctuated his thoughts, prompting Tetradore to sluggishly push himself off of the sofa. His hand reached out, fully intending to press against the wall for support. That sudden searing sensation of pain brought the world into sharp clarity for one fleeting moment as Tetradore abruptly pulled his hand away from the silver door of Risque's office. "Shit." He murmured as he clutched his injured hand, his shoulder falling hard against the other side of the door frame, the cotton of his shirt his only saving grace. He was vaguely aware of the feline brushing against his leg, leading him as he stumbled down the hallway. The very walls of that dance club seemed to bleed within his all too tainted gaze. Every brush of his hand, of his shoulder or arm against those walls, only further seemed to stain his flesh, even if the actuality of his staggering retreat was far more mundane. The hallway seemed painfully long before the panther abruptly halted in front of a door. He reached out with his uninjured arm, pressing against the release bar only to find his body lacking the strength for even this. For several moments, Tetradore merely leaned against the metal door, his forehead pressed against the cold black paint. The soft whimper at his side caused his emerald eyes to flutter open before Tetradore used the weight of his body to swing the door open, leaving his figure embraced by the cold evening air and the promise of dusk on the horizon.

Each movement felt like it took more effort then he remembered. The soles of his shoes scuffed against the cement as the once proud Alpha followed that pathway back towards his own Kingdom. The female panther remained his constant shadow, drifting in and out of visibility as she skiddishly trailed behind him, correcting his course anytime those hallucinations so strove to coax him away from the pathway. He'd nearly tripped into her several times, his movements hardly as coordinated as they had been mere hours ago. How far home now felt! What had once been a short walk now seemed liked miles. By the time the Ark's hulking form appeared in that labyrinth of warehouses and shipping containers, his figure was wet with sweat. His skin felt unusually cold, goosebumps crawling across his flesh as a shudder wracked his frame. What had once been a world of fire seemed to now be a tundra of ice, that phantasmal world shaping and changing with each tiny outside influence. His feet felt heavy in the snow as he trudged past the frozen figures he had taken under his wing - Alexis...Raven...Mira. "It's not Winter yet." He muttered to himself, grasping onto that singular fact that he knew to be true, anything to keep him grounded in reality, anything to keep him moving forward.

He was thankful for the late hour by the time the Alpha stumbled into the hull of the Ark. Its hull was deathly silent, eerily so compared to the usual cacophony of sounds that filled the metal ship during those business hours. It was...empty, wasn't it? Or was this too yet another by-product of her venom? His head shook ever so slightly as if the gesture might free him from its grasp, only to find himself increasingly dizzy. Was the world spinning or was that just him? The Were-King tripped on the stairs, that sheer willpower alone was the only driving force in pushing his beaten body back up, even at the risk of reopening that wound on his forearm. His hand trailed against the wall as he moved sluggishly down the corridor that smelled of his pack, even though the sounds that came from the other side was anything but. It took practice, to distance himself from those very sounds and visions that so afflicted him, practice that he'd had his fair share of. It had been a great many years, however, since she had dosed him so potently. The double doors of his own bedroom were a welcomed sight. His movements were slow and quiet as he reached for the door, stepping into the sanctuary of his own bedroom. Tetradore got only so far as closing his bedroom door behind him, pressing his back against the wood of one of the doors before his body gave up on him.

Slowly, he slid down towards the carpet. His breath was soft and shallow as he sat on the floor. His neck was black and blue from where Risque's hand had so tightly grasped him, choking him of all air till he drifted on the edge of consciousness. His shoulder was riddled with marks from her teeth. She had bitten him over and over again, her venom taking hold long before the sensation of her four fangs piercing his flesh stopped. The bite mark upon his arm from her panther slave had started bleeding again and yet, he was hardly aware enough of the world around him to care, regardless of how deep her teeth had sunk. His hands were burned from silver - the very same burn marks that crafted a trail from his jawline around those bite marks on his shoulder from her talon-like nail. Those once bright emerald eyes seemed dull now, as he stared at the window behind his desk, simply watching the water that poured in, soaking the carpet of his bedroom. The Ark was sinking and he was sinking with it...no...that was impossible...wasn't it? That line between reality and hallucination was far too blurred anymore for him to make sense of what he was seeing but at the very least...he was home.