How distant the now fallen Were-King was from those emotions that swirled within the depths of his heart. Those very walls he'd built up against the world so effortlessly seemed to slide into place as Tetradore presented the trio with that well-worn facade of apathy. His affinities were all too quick to lash out as he stepped out of his mistress' cold grasp. The warehouse quickly darkened with his beckoning, the shadows near impenetrable beyond those small columns of life cast from the overhead fluorescent recessed lighting. He was well aware of Risque's near-musical laughter, the vampiric woman clearly delighting in the bloodshed that was sure to come. How he'd tried to keep Vhalla as far from the mayhem of his own life! His own freedom, during their tryst, had been little more than some cruel hoax and, in some ways, Tetradore was almost thankful that the pair had not delved deeper into those feelings they had so begun to toy with. It would have made this so much harder. That very fear he wielded so lashed out at that moment, the Alpha attempting, in his own way, to lessen the inevitable suffering of that ivory haired wish. After all, Risque would be satisfied, to a point, to see them both quivering at her feet. It was a goal that, unfortunately, seemed to be largely out of his grasp. A small frown crossed his features, resulting in his lips pressing together in a hard line though he did not fret over his failed efforts as that shift overcome him - transforming him from man to beast in a mere moment.

He prowled within the depths of the darkness he'd so carefully crafted, his paws silent upon the familiar floor of Vhalla's home. It was the singular sound of that low, threatening growl from his lips that provided the assassin with any glimpse of his position, but even that was fleeting as he so carefully made his way around her and towards his true prey - fucking Ivan. With claws outstretched, Tetradore lept towards the smirking vampire, only for his paws to collide into something solid. A snarl crept across his features as the panther rebounded with remarkable grace, his figure landing upon the floor with ease. The last thing he anticipated, however, as those calculating emerald eyes surveyed the lackadaisical vampire, was the wall of fire that suddenly flared to life in front of him. The very sensation of that heat against his skin prompted Tetradore to reach for a far different affinity, his very flesh shifting subtly at that moment for that obsidian armor he so often preferred. For a moment, he paced, considering his options before him as Ivan's voice called out to Risque from behind that barrier of flickering flames. His ears flicked ever so slightly at the sound of his mistress' voice, only for Tetradore's emerald eyes to turn upon the one source of Ivan's true weakness. Vhalla. He cared for her too much to risk losing her - it was an attribute that Risque did not share. The panther was quick upon his feet as he bound forward, the man hardly fearing those flames that harmlessly licked his hardened hide.

Vhalla's movements were hardly quick enough before his solid frame near collided with her own. Her arms were instinctually positioned to cover her face, though it mattered not. He hardly desired to ruin the poor girl's skin, his very strikes done out of necessity - meant to grab Ivan's attention rather than to create any true, lasting damage. That gasp of pain that left her as her body slammed into the floor was all but ignored as his sharpened claws sliced through the fabric of her suit and to her sensitive flesh. Tetradore was well aware of how her body seemed to convulse beneath him, but her writhing was all but fruitless against the hundreds of pounds that made up the panther's weight. He was inattentive to the way she reached for her boot and yet, that dagger was all but useless against his rock coated flesh, the blade merely bouncing off. Her efforts to distract him were relatively useless, and yet it tore his emerald eyes from her just enough for her to grasp desperately for her own gift for teleportation - leaving the panther with mere air beneath him. Tetradore was unaware of the very magic his mistress worked in those tender moments, that resounding crack of Risque's whip caused him to flinch instinctually as if prepared to feel the lick of silver. Thankfully, tonight, Tetradore was not the aim of her ire, her power all but rushing over Ivan to twist and contort the vampire's very vision of reality. If only he knew what Risque was capable of though how quickly he met the end of what he was able to withstand, his own voice echoing in the warehouse.

His emerald irises quickly turned towards the furious vampire, the panther simply watching as the undead man stepped forward with clenched fists. Tetradore watched as Vhalla was settled on the floor, her fingers grasping the wound he'd made upon her shoulder, that blood flowing freshly. How quickly Ivan moved to save his little witch - just as Tetradore had expected. A low growl reverberated again from Tetradore's lips as Ivan spoke instead towards Risque, praising her, perhaps, for one-upping him. The panther hardly saw a reason not to take advantage of the vampire's momentary distraction, the feline stalking, his claws brushing against the floor with each step - ready for the strike he intended to take next. He was well aware of the weight of Vhalla's crystalline gaze upon him as her hand slowly dropped from her shoulder. His gaze narrowed as he watched that bubble of water that formed and transformed over her head. His little witch had acquired a new affinity. How unexpected. That soft sob upon her lips quickly gained his attention, though the Were-King seemed wholly unconcerned of those icicle shards. After all, what damage could ice do to stone? His head turned away from her, resulting in that thrown ice all but shattering against his shoulder, sending shards of splintering ice in all directions after that very impact. Slowly, Tetradore stepped over the ice, the panther padding around that erect barrier with intense inspection as he circled them, pausing at his own mistress' feet.

His emerald eyes watched with apathy as Ivan shoved his slit wrist to Vhalla's mouth, the man well aware of what the vampire strove to do - knitting those very wounds back together. That shrugged declaration from Ivan prompted another low growl from his lips though Tetradore was far more keen to end this conflict swiftly. A single backward glance was given towards Risque before Tetradore launched himself forward. His own teleportation was swiftly employed as the Were-King re-appeared above the young woman, utilizing his own weight and gravity to plummet towards the ground, his plan was, admittedly rather rudimentary as Tetradore slammed into her figure again, the panther hoping to pin her beneath him and yet, this time, it was hardly his claws or teeth he employed so much as that very affinity that so kept him safe from her attacks - that stone armor. His very head collided into her own, the man quite effectively headbutting her in an effort to knock the girl unconscious. It was only once he was successful, regardless of how many times it took or the damage his actions dealt, that Tetradore's leaned forward, his teeth gripping her collar as he dragged Vhalla across the floor, releasing her in front of Risque's silver-tipped heels.