Sebastian Ellington-Aragona

His Royal Highness, Prince of Italy

How Carolina seemed to struggle with even the syllables that made up the name of the man that had shattered her once vivacious spirit. The very word seemed to prompt a shudder down her spine and goosebumps on her skin as if it's utterance might manifest him to haunt her all over again. Nevertheless, Sebastian remained the epitome of silence, simply letting the tale unfold with little interruption on his part. He knew, from experience, it made the unpleasantness somehow easier to handle to merely blunder through a story such as this. It hardly took long to see exactly where this tale was going. He was certainly well aware of the supernatural's tendency to keep other creatures as...pets. Though, admittedly, the trait seemed to be heavily weighted towards his own species. A fae....that was something new, at least to him. A small frown crossed his usually handsome features though he kept his stilled muteness all the same. It pained him, admittedly, that she had been forced to endure horrors untold, it explained those scars that littered her back and neck, ones he had noticed their last evening together but equally had chosen not to afford them even an ounce of his attention. Her efforts to hold herself together in the wake of such a story were...valiant, indeed, and yet Sebastian had never been one to allow a woman to dwell within her despondency alone within his presence.

The Italian Prince was well aware of each shaky breath that left her sweetheart lips, the young woman practically coming apart of the seams despite her best effort otherwise. Carefully, Sebastian shifted upon the supple leather seats, his cup of tea placed in the drink holder beside him. Gently, he reached out for the young girl, pulling her across the seat and into his chilled embrace. He could feel her fingers digging into the stark cotton material of his button-down shirt as he strove to comfort her with his mere presence. Just as he was well aware of that slight wetness that caressed the hard plains of his chest from the tears that she so attempted to contain, even if he chose not to comment upon it. Rather, it was after several moments of that patient silence that Sebastian finally inquired as to the whereabouts of this...Alaric. Though it was hardly his place to intervene, a distinctly...unroyal emotion had fluttered through the Englishman, one that was so easily fueled by his near vampiric possessiveness over those he fostered some resemblance of care for. Some deeper, darker part of him would have enjoyed to sink his fangs in the fae's neck...to inflict the very pain Alaric had clearly brought Carolina...though such a desire was one he'd never voice aloud.

That soft shake of her head disrupted her blonde locks ever so slightly. The corners of his lips furrowed ever just so, it would make this Alaric far more...difficult to find..though surely not an impossibility. The glacier blue of his irises turned down towards the girl as she attempted to regain her composure. Her words were near muffled as her southern accent echoed against his chest, her breath distinctly warm even through the stark cotton fabric of his buttondown. Nevertheless, the vampire heard her with crystal clarity. He understood, of course, that fear that kept her from seeking out the fate of the man who had harmed her and yet...Sebastian had far different...far more...secure channels to go through then she did. "I understand." He muttered softly, the vampire falling silent to his own inward contemplations. At least, that was until the gentle sensation of her fingers against his chest drew his gaze downwards. His lips pressed together in a small hint of distaste though it was hardly at her, nor the stain upon his clothing. "Don't fret over it, love," Sebastian answered, his own baritone lit void of that usual gaiety, despite her efforts to return to some hint of lightheartedness.

"Carolina." He muttered softly, after a moment, the Englishman waited till her gaze turned upwards towards him before he continued. "I want you as my...ah..." His head tilted ever so slightly to the side and yet, the English translation of the word he searched for was hardly preferable. "...my pomme de sang. If Alaric should ever return...I will protect you. If he takes you again, I will find you. I will take care of you...support you...give everything your heart desires... and in return, you give me your blood, when I desire it....and you do not let another feed from you. You do not have to decide now, love. Nor would I fault you if you were hesitant given what you have gone through but I would like you to consider it."