my monsters are realthey're trained how to kill, these monsters can fight
they'll never say die, there's no goin' back
if I get trapped I'll never heal

An unfathomable stillness invaded the quiet little corner of the room. Tetradore's head tilted back, his eyes closed and his chest was still and unmoving. That death was a peaceful finality, something he had been striving for for years. It was a black oblivion, one that was an almost comfortable familiarity...it was a welcomed embrace home as his consciousness severed those few, final fraying threads that bound him to a reality far too painful for him to comprehend any longer. In that sweet land of darkness, Tetradore was oblivious to the tiny bit of magic that reached out to grab his fading spirit - the magic that tethered him to a world he yearned to leave. That heat slowly began to invade his body, chasing away the chill of death with the renewal of life before, in a dramatic display of flame and smoke, his physical form disintegrated into a pile of burning ash that fluttered throughout the air. They drifted with unnoticeable purpose, slowly settling upon the ground as they gathered in a shapeless lump that was slow to take form. Eventually, with each tiny fallen piece, his body began to take shape, those ashes wholly ignoring the irritation of the vampiric woman who stood over the apparent mess. His very resurrection was equally as slow, those little bits of soot falling away with the touch of an invisible breeze to reveal each piece of flawless bare skin until his entire figure was exposed.

His chest rose with an audible gasp as Tetradore took his first breath, his gaze fluttering open to stare at the ceiling with notable shock. It took several moments before that once panicked breathing began to slow into something far more steady, his mind slow to comprehend exactly what had occurred. His brow furrowed as his head turned to the side, only to note the pair of stiletto heels that stood several feet away from him. It took him a moment longer than usual for Tetradore to feel the weight of her icicle stare. Vaguely, he was aware of a warmth that surrounded him, birthed within his chest as it coursed through his veins. It was a feeling distinctly unusual to the Alpha, a feeling of power that was abnormal for what he had become accustomed to with such deaths and rebirths. This one....this one was different, though how, he wasn't quite yet sure. Now, however, was hardly the time to dwell upon such things - not with Risque's presence still lingering heavily before him. A soft grunt left his lips as Tetradore pushed himself upward, that look of irritation blatant upon his features as the emerald of his irises fluttered upward towards his Mistress.

One leg rose, his knee bent as his arm came to rest upon his knee. His free hand brushed across his eyebrows, as if there was a vague headache he was trying to wipe away. Tetradore's lips pressed together in a hard line as the click of Risque's heels demanded his attention. The sweetness of her soprano voice was grating to his ears as she praised him - though for what even he wasn't entirely sure. Silently, his gaze swept over the charred wallpaper by the door, only to drift downward to the ruined ottoman and the equally as scorched floor. Frankly, it was a miracle his Mistress wasn't attempting to further punish him for the destruction he had unintentionally caused. Nor had it passed his notice that this was the first time his resurrection had brought with it such catastrophe. His head was jerked upward from his observations by the intertwining of her fingers within his curls, the fierceness of those irises stared upward at her feminine features as Risque astutely inspected him - clearly looking for...well...something. A wicked simper slowly spread across her features, though whether or not she had found what she was searching for, he couldn't tell.

Tetradore's tongue skirted across his bottom lip as he listened to his mistress' voice. A soft snort left his nose as the Alpha tried to jerk his head from her grasp. "I already was before." He commented, his baritone voice a soft, discontented grumble. His gaze turned away from her, though it was hardly out of some effort to be submissive and more of a disgruntled unwillingness to even offer her his gaze. His rebellious attempt was rather short lived, however, the butchered utterance of his last name caused him to glance towards her as his Mistress muttered of her own curiosity. Tetradore grunted in response, the man hardly keen to provide her with even a syllable in the aftermath of what she had done. Her inquiry, however, saw the Alpha's eyebrow rise as he finally met his Mistress' gaze. It had taken him a moment to place that world he had found himself in, albeit for several brief moments. It was a place he was rather certain she would be unable to follow. It was best, he decided, to say nothing of that shadow realm that had claimed his soul. "No where. There's nothing after this, Risque."