Dorian AragonaHis Royal Majesty

It had been several weeks since he had last seen that vampiric gentleman he had met in the lobby of the Witchery. One whom had turned out to be the very mayor of the city no less. He had found Dareios an entirely agreeable sort of person, a little guarded perhaps and yet when one lived a life within politics such wariness was rarely misguided to possess in any sense. Dorian had, since that evening, taken something of an interest in the political affairs of the city itself if only so he might keep up to date with the activities of his newfound companion. Dorian hardly envied Dareios job in working to lower city crime rates and the price of health care and education atop of everything else he did. Such matters were hardly foreign to him within his own country and yet for the most part his own ministers largely took care of such things. News of discontent only ever reaching that Italian Monarch if it truly got out of hand and his own authority was required. Still, he held some understanding of all that Dareios need do in the day, Dorian having come to find some enjoyment in reading about the fellow in the papers every now and then.

It was however, hardly a matter of politics that had so prompted the Fae to meet with that fellow once more. Rather, it was that very allure of antiques. There was something decidedly fascinating to the man to be found within those pieces of history older then himself and indeed, in many instances, younger than his own near six centuries of life. Dorian had missed so very much of the world that even those devices now considered 'aged' were often entirely new to the man and as such utterly worthy off his attention. Dorian was entirely curious by nature, Dareios' offer to show him those antiques was met with a ready agreement and clear delight, Dorian having agreed to meet the vampire later that evening. His own nocturnal schedule made keeping those night time appointments decidedly easy. It had hardly taken the Fae long to get ready, Dorian at last detangling himself from Sebastian to slip on those jeans and that button down shirt, the Fae making some effort to conceal those bite wounds on his own neck beneath his collar, those wounds on his wrist a veritable lost cause the man had simply accepted the world was going to see. It wasn't as if the world didn't know whom he was dating regardless. It was all over every magazine. Dorian hardly ashamed of it in any sense.

It was just after eight thirty in the evening that he pressed his lips to his lover's cheek, assuring Sebastian he would be back soon, leaving the vampire with his favoured British newspaper before strolling out and onto those streets. It was hardly a far walk to that corner he had agreed to meet Dareios on, the Monarch leaning back against the wall as he waited for the vampire to arrive and show him to that antiques store. Dorian had, this evening, brought with him two small things he desired to show the other man and so garner his opinion on. His silver gaze glanced upward at that night sky, the man willing that rain to hold off at least a little longer. Walking about in the rain, after all, hardly seemed a pleasant activity. His attention wandered briefly across that road and towards a couple holding hands, his lip quirking upward slightly in amusement at the pair. How unacceptable such a thing had been within his own time! At least, it had been within public and indeed, was certainly not carried out between a couple that was anything less than engaged. Some aspects of the modern world, he was sure, had changed for the better. His phone was fished readily from his pocket then, Dorian using it to glance at time, the man assured his companion would be along at any moment.