There was no denying that Syn had a set hierarchy, one that dictated every facet of life within the dance club. Risque irrevocably sat at the very top - the sadistic woman so constantly reaffirming her rule within her domain. Darcy, in turn, had remained at her right hand side for as long as Tetradore could remember, the rest of Risque's vampires falling in rank beneath him. How quick the cowboy was to ensure that place remained his alone. Any would be challenger was swiftly dealt with, often with a cold, messy efficiency that caused any who vied for Risque's affections to rethink their goals. None were equal to Darcy -- except, perhaps, for Tetradore himself. Where once the Were had been nothing more than a gangly boy so desperately trying to find his place within his new world, now the Alpha stood in direct opposition to every soul within Syn, the man bested only repeatedly by their shared Mistress. Tetradore was wholly willing to utilize his own place within the ranks to his advantage. He was, relatively speaking, free from Darcy's wrath. The vampire forced to simply endure Tetradore's presence lest he feared upsetting the very woman he was so enamored with. It made the Were-Panther in turn nothing short of recklessly rebellious, though realistically, Tetradore required little prompting to fight against the world that he had been forced into servitude within.

It was childish, he knew, to resort to emulate that intense Southern drawl, the Alpha all but staunchly refusing to pay for the life he had taken - as if it was some sort of luxurious experience to be sought so feverishly for. The vivid emerald of his gaze merely watched with a sort of frigid aloofness as Darcy's jaw clenched, those sharpened canines grating against one another in a sound that might cause lesser men to flinch. Oh he knew well what sort of damage the vampire could do with those fierce razorlike teeth. He had suffered beneath that bite more than once. Risque, however, tended to be particularly...finicky when it came to marks left upon her treasured pet. Breaking a bone was far more forgivable within the eyes of their mistress then to bite. Both of them knew well Darcy would never dare. For a brief moment, the pair were returned to silence, the commercials on the television the only sound and Tetradore, in turn, was content to turn his attention to the dancing animated characters upon the screen selling...well..to be frank, he hadn't the slightest idea. How aware he was that those words shared between the two would hardly be the last. He had set Darcy's mind in motion and that could be as dangerous as it was...enjoyable, in a sense. If there was anything Tetradore could count on, it was Darcy's obsessive nature with their Mistress.

The last thing Tetradore had anticipated, however, was any sort of inquiry over his sexual relationship with Risque. The very thought of it was enough to make his stomach feel ill. His retort was brusque, holding a hint of finality within it the depths of his baritone voice. Tetradore should have left it there. He should have merely let the matter go and leave Darcy to his dwelling.....and yet...the Were-King was incapable of lashing out against the very idea he found so utterly abhorrent. How quickly his words cut straight to the cowboy's pride. Darcy's near infamous anger was quick to roar like a veritable conflagration, the Southerner upon him before Tetradore could hope to even blink. Those vampire reflexes, much to his continued irritation, were far superior than anything the Alpha could ever hope to contest. A hand sharply ceased his throat, the man was thrown back against the wall with enough force that the plaster behind him cracked. The strength of the impact was enough to leave him dazed, those stars blossoming across his vision for a brief moment before he gasped for breath beneath the crushing weight of Darcy's palm. He could feel that trembling of Darcy's fingers against his skin, his own hands quickly rose in some vain effort to pry the cowboy off of him as his body was filled with the adrenaline to fight against the vampire.

He watched as Darcy's lips peeled over those sharpened canines, his breath near frigid against Tetradore's caramel skin as the vampire leaned closely towards him, the pair separated by meer inches. A gasp left his lips as Darcy's hand dragged him up the wall, his own fingers digging tightly into the Southerner's arm in some effort to gain some sort of leverage. His words, when they came, were little more than a wheeze even as he repeated the very sentence that had prompted such rage within the Cowboy. The growl that reverberated within Darcy's through caused the corners of Tetradore's lips to twitch upwards ever so subtly. That was, at least, until Darcy threatened to 're-arrange' him, whatever the fuck that meant. "Fuck....off." He wheezed out as the cowboy flashed him a malicious grin, the blue hue of Darcy's gaze momentarily seemed to travel down his figure in consideration of that very 'project' the vampire had given himself. His hands tightened upon Darcy's wrist as the vampire considered just where he might start. How...unphased Tetradore was by that very threat, as degrading as it was. No, it was the vampire's insistence that Tetradore did little more than merely lay there beneath the cruel hands of their mistress that prompted a hiss from the Were-Panther's lips. As if he was supposed to enjoy sex he hadn't even wanted in the first place. As if he was supposed to try to satisfy the very woman who had destroyed his whole fucking life!

It was, however, the very mention of his mother that so finally provoked Tetradore's temper. His parents were, perhaps, the only topic that could reliably cause him to rise to the occasion. He ignored Darcy's insistence that he could discuss whomever he wanted, Tetradore's shadows already bursting into life with an eagerness to consume them both - the pair so suddenly cast out into a dark, unending, nothingness. Near immediately, Tetradore was aware he was falling, even if he hadn't the slightest notion of where they were falling too. All that matters was the sudden release of Darcy's hold upon him and instantly he gasped for air. He could hear Darcy's hiss, though the vampire seemed little more than a darkened mass falling next to him in the dim light. Still, there were certain reflexes that seemed to persist within the Were-Panther, his own body easily twisting to land upon his feet, even if he was certain it would merely result in him breaking his legs. At least Darcy would get his wish. Maybe the vampire would get impaled on something in the process. That'd be nice.

For several long...tortorous moments, Tetradore was merely left waiting for a ground that didn't come, the pair left falling...and falling...and falling....and falling....and where the fuck was the ground?! It came at him when he least expected it. In truth, he hardly even saw it coming so much as he could feel it. Suddenly, with little warning, his figure collided with water...or at least some sort of liquid, the impact alone caused a choking breath to leave his lips before he realized, quite simply, that he needed to swim if he wished to breathe again. His movements were near frantic, Tetradore incapable of telling where the surface of the water was when it was just as dark and colorless as the sky they'd fallen through. He burst through the surface of it several moments later, the change of temperature on his skin, the simple sensation of air kissing his cheeks, they were they only signs he had in a world full of black. For several moments, Tetradore simply tread water, focusing upon his breath as he took stock of both himself and his surroundings. His body hurt - the water certainly had served to save him but he would hardly be surprised if he woke up in the morning covered in bruises. He could hardly see Darcy in the dimness, though frankly he'd consider himself lucky if the vampire had confused up and down and simply swam to his death....except that vampires didn't need to breathe. Fucking leeches. A scowl crossed Tetradore's lips as he tentatively reached out, taking several careful swimming motions forward. His movements were slow, what with his eyesight seemingly robbed of him and yet, in that clear, still surface, Tetradore hardly had to swim for long before his hand touched something solid. Solid....and equally as black. Great. He was in a world of black. Tetradore hoisted himself out of the water, the chill of the dark landscape prompted a shudder to run down his spine and yet, the moment his feet touched solid...earth(?), he was equally as aware of the sensation of his element. Those shadows seemed to flutter around his feet as near living entities - the entire world was bathed in them. It was a world of nothing but shadows. A world...in which he was stuck....with Darcy.

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