The roar of the crowds had been a resounding cacophony that filled the hull of the Ark, even if Tetradore's win had become almost expected. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stood in front of the human figure that had once been his enemy, his caramel skin glistening with sweat from the heat of the focused lighting overhead and the exertion of his feline body to bring down his much larger prey. The air was filled with the stench of blood, perspiration, and alcohol. The striking emerald of his irises fell upon the man at his feet as the Were-King reached down to offer the fellow a hand up. He could see the disgruntlement upon the Were's features, the caucasian clearly warring internally on whether or not to accept the help before, eventually, his hand reached up to fit within Tetradore's own. He pulled the fellow to his feet, only to clasp the man on his unbloodied shoulder. "Nice try, Ben." He commented gruffly before leading the way towards the edge of the ring. The crowd nearly enveloped the Alpha as he moved through them, their elation leading to a courage as a unit to touch the man in a way that they so rarely did as he was subjected to numerous comments of 'good job' and 'congratulations' and 'I knew he couldn't beat you!'. It was almost a relief by the time Tetradore broke through the crowd and to the base of the steps of the staircase that led towards his throne and the rest of the Ark.
A soft breath left the Alpha's lips as he climbed the stairs, only to move down the hallway and deeper into the ship. The sounds of the fights were muffled the further and further away he moved until, finally, the noise dissipated altogether as the man opened the doors of his bedroom. The door was left cracked, hinting, perhaps, to the man's relatively decent mood as he beelined towards his bathroom. His shirt had been lost somewhere downstairs, taken off and discarded before he had shifted. Jackal probably had stashed it somewhere. His jeans hung loosely on his waist, his body still covered with various scratches, cuts, and scrapes from the claws of the Tiger. By tomorrow they'd be mere scars before fading away entirely. His shoulders rolled in an effort to rid himself of the ache as he stepped into the bathroom - the dim glow of the yellow lights flickered on overhead at his movement. The glass wall across from the room offered him a view of the impossibly dark waters of Sacrosanct's bay. The very color mirrored ebony the cold ebony floor of his bathroom. The freestanding infinity tub at the center of the room had the same soft glow about it, lit from underneath as a veritable beacon for the Were-King, one he was willing to give into.
He strode over towards the bathtub, turning on the faucet to fill the tub with the hottest heat it was capable of offering him. The rushing sound of water was almost relaxing, drawing the man's thoughts inward as his emerald eyes turned towards the abyss of the ocean waves outside. For several moments he merely stood there, waiting for the tub to fill while his mind was so clearly elsewhere - at least, until the sound of his name drew the Alpha back to the present. Tetradore's gaze turned over his shoulder, the very voice that called for him was one he could place anywhere.
My heart is just to dark too care. I can't destroy what isn't there
so if you love me let me go
Deliver me into my fate & leave me with my sins
If you still care, don't ever let me know