He was drowning. The boat was capsizing and sinking, cracking and breaking around him. His room was filling quickly, and with it so were his lungs. He couldn't breathe - could he? The screams of his pack filled his ears as they begged him to save them and yet, he could hardly move as the ocean engulfed him. A shudder ran down his spine - the water was chilling, or was that his own blood loss? His consideration of his own coldness seemed to prompt a shift in those visions. The water turned to ice, cracking across his skin, to leave a blistering blue to his once caramel flesh. A figure appeared at the corner of his vision. Risque? No, it was a man - one of her lackeys, surely - come to finish what she had started. Maybe she had discovered his absence and changed her mind on letting him go. Tetradore tried to find some measure of strength still within his body to rise and yet...there was none left. A glint of silver caught his eye as he watched the figure move closer towards him and yet, he hardly moved, not until the sound of his name punctuated the haze of those hallucinations. His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, his head shifted to better eye the figure in the darkness of his own room.

He watched as the man's hand reached out for him. He tried to pull away, tried to push himself back into the wood of the door and yet, his efforts were wholly fruitless. Tetradore's body flinched as the hand rested upon his shoulders and yet, it was the soft whisper of his name in that decidedly French accent that caused him to blink at the figure in his vision. "...Matteo?" His baritone voice was soft, questioning even as he eyed the being that slowly shifted and contorted in front of his eyes to the familiar, if not disheveled sight of the Frenchman. He glanced behind the fae, that frown still present on his features as he watched the creatures that now moved in the quiet, darkness that encroached upon his room. Her felines prowled around them, poised and ready to hunt them. He could hear their panting, he could see the hunger in the glint of their irises. His lips parted, fully prepared to inquire after those visions only for his inquiry to be cut short. That sudden assurance that those very visions weren't real seemed to provoke some level of placidity within him. He knew they weren't and yet...he worried that one day - they might very well be and he'd be too lost in the haze to even recognize it. It had certainly happened before and would no doubt happen again.

A soft breath of relief left his lips as his head slowly leaned back upon the wooden door behind him. His dull emerald eyes stared up into the silver hue that so intently seemed to eye him. He was aware, to some degree, the rush of Matteo's power as it so sought to close those wounds that littered his skin and chase away the pain that filled his frame. He watched as, slowly, his bedroom came into sharp focus, the dimness still present and yet, those otherworldly visions seemed to recede to the very corners of his periphery. They were like a ghost to haunt him whilst his body so strove to replenish itself of the blood it had lost. Matteo's face, so free of that death and blood he had once covered his features, was a welcomed sight. That warm smile and familiar nickname prompted a weak simper upon Tetradore's own features. Although those wounds had been healed, and though his body was working overtime to mend the lack of blood in his veins, he still found himself both afflicted with exhaustion and a peculiar sense of coldness. "Hey, you..." He responded weakly, only to watch as Matteo rose to retreat to the sofa.

Tetradore's gaze shifted down to his arm, the Were-King flexed his fist, as if testing those very muscles that had but moments ago been so hesitant to respond to his desires. The panther's bite was gone, the damage she had done repaired. It was a relief, to say the least. His emerald eyes turned upwards as Matteo approached him, only to press a chocolate bar in his hand. His eyebrows furrowed and yet before Tetradore could offer even a syllable of protest, Matteo was already insisting on his need for the sweets, the sugar meant to help his poor, tired body. Tetradore glanced up at the sudden halt within the Frenchman's words, the stillness within his faux father caused the anxiety to swell in him all over again. His emerald eyes turned briefly to the darkness that surrounded them and yet, his own reactions were still sluggish as Matteo so abruptly teleported from him, just in time a spotted feline to quite near pounce on the very area the Frenchman had moment's ago been standing. The leopard's roar filled his room, prompting Tetradore to slowly reach out towards the feline, "Tobias....stop." He uttered and yet his own voice was lost between the growls that punctuated the air.

God, he was not prepared to battle against Tobias' own barely hinged sanity. He was too tired to fight for that dominance now, even as Matteo tried to reason with the feline. His emerald eyes briefly met the silver of Matteo's own, only for the man to offer his companion the smallest of nods of acknowledgment. Matteo vanished from the depths of the room, prompting the feline in front of him to stalk towards the very spot the fae had stood but moments before. Despite his companion's nearly feral nature, it was...comforting to see the lanky leopard alive and as well as ever. After Risque had so threatened him with taking Tobias from him, after he' watched his hallucinations tear his best friend and faux brother apart over and over again...it was nice to see the leopard just the same as he always was. He watched as Tobias turned to close the distance between them, only for the feline's head to brush against his own. Tetradore's hand reached up, gingerly cupping the leopard's head in a small gesture of affection. It was the smallest glimpse he allowed his companion to see of the emotions that so tugged at him.

He was well aware of that soft breath of air upon his skin as Tobias sniffed him, only to pull away with fangs flashing. Tetradore's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as he watched the shift overcome the boy, the man apparently taking up his mate's own talent to change with those clothing intact, an art Tetradore had never quite mastered. His emerald eyes met the dark hue of Tobias own, only for the boy's broken lyrics to prompt a soft sigh upon his lips. "I know." He muttered, hardly having to question after just whom it was Tobias spoke of. They both knew it. Though whether or not Tobias reacted negatively to his efforts to shield the man from the truth of her revival still remained to be seen. His gaze shifted towards his own shoulder as Tobias' fingers reached out to gingerly brush against the marks that remained. The silver was harder for his skin to heal, though Matteo's own affinity had helped tremendously. His head shifted ever so slightly at his younger brother's inquiry, "No, she's not dead. She came back." He affirmed simply, hardly bothering to explain the intricate details of how she had managed such a feat. They would surely be lost upon the boy. Those words too.....wordy. God, his brain must be feeling the effects of that exhaustion if that was the best he could come up with.

He hardly expected the jacket that was suddenly thrust to him. His eyebrows rose as he reached up to take it, letting it fall into his lap. After all, his own bed looked...far warmer and more enticing than Tobias' jacket. Tetradore's gaze refocused upon Tobias as the boy suddenly reached for his hand, tugging him to his feet. "Tobias," He muttered with exasperation. "There's nowhere to go." Tetradore insisted. There was nowhere they could go that would be free of her, nowhere he could hide that she wouldn't find. It was childish but, all he desired was to hide away beneath those blankets of his bed unbothered for the next few days. Unfortunately, Tetradore hardly quite got that far as he was pulled to his feet, his own hand abruptly reached out to firmly grasp Tobias' arm. His eyebrows furrowed as the sudden feeling of lightheadedness assaulted him. Some of those effects, it seemed, still lingered until his body had fully recuperated. At the very least, he was feeling significantly better than he had before Matteo's appearance, the Were-King no longer upon death's door.