i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

That painting that rested within one of those near numerous warehouses had hardly been of any particular interest to the Dark Hunter, even despite it's age and apparent worth. The sheer collateral he held was certainly great enough to provide him the wealth of a King, if such title had not already been bestowed upon him a millennium ago. Even despite Alexander's particular disinterested within that work of art, he had quite purposefully kept it if only for his knowledge of Matteo's distinct draw to that original Rousseau. After all, the longer it was out of Matteo's reach, the greater its value when the foresight of the Frenchman had robbed him of a bet of significance. It was only that mention of that painting his oldest friend kept from him for much the same reason that prompted him to offer it, even if he hardly believed the man was forthright with his assurances that he had not already guaranteed himself that victory. Alexander was almost unsurprised when, sometime later, it was the form of the Italian King that darkened his doorstep rather than the Russian Duchess he so adored. That scowl upon his features was quite clear, even if he took some measure of delight in the presence of that virtuous younger fae.

Alexander was, despite the loss of that bet, all too eager to greet his Godson. His attention remained wholly steadfast upon the pair, particularly at that mention of the vampire Dorian so intended to marry. He was hardly certain yet if he trusted the creature with the life of Matteo's only surviving son, even despite both fae's insistence upon the Englishman. Even so, the Macedonian Monarch remained altogether silent of his own thoughts, at least until that soft muttering of that vague concern he held over his own daughter and the increasing darkness that surrounded that warm little cafe. Her inability to see within the dark was a sort of crippling vulnerability that left him constantly fretting over her whenever the sun fell, even though he had gotten particularly good, over the years, of keeping such worries to himself. That slip of the tongue was rare for the man, as those blue-green eyes shifted towards the window with a hint of concern. That softly uttered assurance from his companion brought only a sigh to his lips, even if he'd long since learned to trust in Matteo on such matters as this.

It was that inquiry of exactly whom Dorian was meeting that pulled his gaze from those frosted window panes, that singular relationship he had with the fallen Duchess so easily fell from his lips. That surprise upon Dorian's features served to bring a touch of amusement to the age old man and yet, truly, was it all that surprising? Alexander had held his fair share of relationships throughout the centuries, even though that last had been long before Anastasia's creation. He was a decidedly particular man in those he chose to have continual affairs with, but not without reason. The sight of that town car pulling up to the curb prompted a sudden sense of relief within the man all the same, those blue-green eyes altogether lingering upon that petite feminine frame that moved quickly from that vehicle to the warm embrace of his quaint little cafe. As of late, Anastasia had taken upon herself to preoccupy herself with her own self appointed hunt, one he was assured both Matteo and himself had kept a careful eye on, even if neither man interjected in that quest for that object from her youth.

He watched in silence as his daughter and Matteo exchanged their pleasantries till Anastasia turned to face him herself. That soft kiss and singular Russian word brought a small simper to the Hunter's often stoic lips. "Good evening, Anastasia." He uttered softly in return, her name uttered with that strong Greek accent as he offered the woman a chair beside him. He watched as the two children introduced one another, the Dark Hunter well aware of his protege's affinity and the knowledge it provided her. In this Dorian was at a distinct disadvantage, that ignorance altogether clear in that idle comment of the young woman's appearance differing so greatly from those Greek features that personified Alexander. That look of contemplative curiosity upon the Monarch's features was well noted by the Hunter and yet, those questions that clearly lingered upon Dorian's mind were pushed off for another matter entirely. Alexander hardly anticipated the way Dorian reached into his jacket to pluck two white pages from the depths of his pocket. That explanation only further caused his eyebrows to raise as those blue-green eyes shifted from his daughter towards that stock paper.

He shifted in that seat ever so slightly towards Matteo and that page that the Frenchman took, that comment of the color caused his own gaze to near dubiously shift towards Dorian at that almost exasperated sigh. "And...which one is..this one?" He inquired briefly, gesturing towards that page in Matteo's hand. Slowly, he took that page from his companion, turning it over in his hands at that hushed whisper that was given to him. Dorian's almost chastising words were all but ignored as the Macedonian man shook his head ever so slightly. At the very least, those Dark Hunter senses were capable of picking up the difference in hue, at least enough to identify that almost creamy color compared to stark white, though whether he could tell that difference between the two invitations was another matter entirely. "I think...it's supposed to be an off white...like the tusks of that elephant we hunted in Africa." He commented almost thoughtfully, passing that page onto Anastasia for her review. After all, it was the Grand Duchess' opinion the Monarch sought for, not their own. It was a matter, he was certain, that was best reserved for her.