It had been several nights since that terribly ill-fated dinner, Dorian having resigned himself to spending the better part of them at home and within Samantha's company in some effort to repair whatever it was that had been so fractured between them that fateful evening. There was, after all, much he owed the woman. He continued still, to live within her very home and as such there was an assurance within the Fae King that such a thing resulted in a duty of sorts to care for her in even the emotional sense. Yet too- for all the love he held for Samantha, he was hardly an inattentive boyfriend in any sense, the man so having employed his letter sender to assure Sebastian on those evenings in which he was absent from the vampires home that all was still entirely well between them in the least, that Samantha simply required his presence for but a few nights. Tonight however, Dorian found himself unwilling to be without his lovers company any longer, Samantha so having ventured to work in a decidedly joyous mood at the promise of a party of some sort and as such Dorian saw no need to linger within his own home and his despairingly empty bed. Ah, how quickly he came to miss the simplicity of someone to sleep beside in even but a few nights left alone! The nights, of late, had begun to grow cooler, Dorian taking his time to find suitable attire- the man shrugging on his newest acquisition in that leather jacket. The Monarch so having discovered quite the preference for that material.

It is only when the man deems himself presentable that he steps out and onto the street, hands folded into his pockets as he does and yet tonight their existed a....business of sorts about the streets. There were people about, far more then normal, each of them seeming to act as if they were preparing for something, a number of them so fussing about their houses. A gang of costumed children is eyed entirely warily, Dorian failing to understand in any sense why parents permitted their offspring to be running about in the growing darkness adorned in such atrocities and yet on parenting he supposed, he knew little. Samantha had, several times, so mentioned this very holiday to the man and yet with all that had been in his mind of late he had forgotten of it entirely. Nor had her description of it afforded him any real understanding. It was, thankfully, not to terribly far to Sebastian own home, Dorian having spent the better part of the walk so curiously eyeing the homes of others, the man entirely confused as to just why they seemed to be decorating in such a theme and yet they were little more than child's play when so compared to the lavish mansion of his lover. Dorian halted upon the front law in utter bewilderment as to the sight before him. Sebastian's once pristine and manicured home very akin to something out of a nightmare. What on earth the vampire had so been thinking when he had chosen this change of décor Dorian hardly knew, his silver-hued gaze drifting from those lanterns to the spiders crawling from the roof and towards what appeared to be gravestones situated in the man's front lawn, his eyes widening as the very first note of genuine fear seemed to encircle his heart.

He knew so wholly that Sebastian was, despite his often collected appearance, a worrier by nature. The Fae King assured his lover would worry about anything he might be given rein to worry about if only he was allowed to have his thoughts run freely. A genuine look of concern so afflicting the Monarch's features in this moment if only for the fear that this somehow, might be the vampires response to that one abysmal meal. Surely one unfavourable meal was not worth this display of....obscurity. That very story that Samantha had so told him of that fateful evening in which she herself had first met Sebastian had left the King with a veritable plethora of questions and yet in these all-too precarious moments they are forgotten entirely beneath the wait of the concern his lover might, somehow, be unwell. Dorian so hurrying down that path but a moment later, the man attempting to circumnavigate those tombstones and vandalised pumpkins.

A small sound of surprise so escapes his lips at the bats adorning the front door, his heart jolting within his chest for but a moment before his fingers found the doorbell, Charles appearing within a matter of seconds and yet the manservant had so exchanged his normally sensible attire for what a certain part of the Fae is assured is a veritable clothing crime. The shock upon his features hardly missed by the manservant whom seemed unable to decide as to whether to offer him any of the wrapped, coloured bars he held within an overly large bowl.

"Charles, whatever happened to your eye?"

Whatever injury the man had so sustained that required a patch over one eye Dorian could not fathom in that moment, although, perhaps, it explained the man's poor efforts to dress himself. Charles however, appeared almost amused at the King's clear confusion, welcoming him in but a moment later. Dorian was utterly relieved to see much of the interior of his lovers home remained largely untouched as he so followed Charles into the living room to find Sebastian sprawled across that ebony couch. Whatever words he might have offered his lover however are entirely lost the moment Elizabeth steps into the room. A soft yelp of surprise is so released from the normally composed Monarch, Dorian stumbling briefly backward into the wall at the sight of the housekeeper whom appeared, now, to be dressed as the antichrist in heels. The confusion upon his youthful features is surely nothing less than apparent to all present, Dorian hurrying across the room a mere moment later as if seeking the safety of Sebastian alone. The Monarch halted now beside the couch as his silver gaze rests properly upon his consort for the first time, eyes roving across the man's form, a small simper of pleasure tugging at his features at the sight of that marvellous gold vest and what appeared to be a very well-looking being and yet even this look of pleasure is but momentary before Dorian allows the softest of frowns to touch his features once more.

"Bastien- are....are you wearing a cloak?"

One eye lifts ever so slightly at this truly curious choice of attire and yet, it seemed, the entire household had evidently decided to dress in varying degrees of inappropriate. Dorian so struggling momentarily for words. The utter shock so entirely clear amongst that look of confusion and worry.

"You know well that I love you, Mon Cher, always- but I find myself very confused as to what is occurring this evening. I am not opposed to the, shall we say, gothic style, you appear to have taken up but do you not think it is perhaps a little....much? Are you quite well?"

There is little save genuine concern within the man's voice, Dorian fearing entirely that this might be a new style his lover had so favoured for reasons utterly unknown, his gaze held so unwavering upon that of Sebastian's now.

Dorian Aragona