There was no part of that ancient Fae that was, by any means, anything less the used to crowds in some sense. Perhaps the better part of his existence had been spent away from them if only be the sheer impossibility of him reaching them and yet since his earliest days as little more than a babe he had been used to being surrounded in some sense- even if only by guards. It is simply the modern crowds he finds so confronting, people no longer seeming to hold that understanding of personal space, so consistently encroaching upon his own zone of comfort despite his clear discomfort with it. How bold people were! Especially women. Within his own time few would have dared speak to him, especially not without an invitation and none would ever have considered attempting to touch him. Dorian perhaps so displaying his age in those few moments in which he shifts all the closer to Sebastian as if the vampire represented some measure of safety from the group of overly exuberant women. Their excitement was perhaps a pleasing thing and yet truly their continued touches and gestures were outside his own understanding of what was acceptable. Dorian so tolerating it if only because he has come to understand, in some sense, this modern manner. People were closer, more prone to physical touch, less inclined to assume boundary and indeed it is merely something to be adapted too. That hand that settles upon his waist however is hardly misguided. Such a touch so oddly reassuring before those women hurry back down the path and away from them.

It is now, once again so alone with his lover, that the Fae King so seems to find his feet again in the metaphorical sense. Dorian so offering those observations to his consort as he stepped further down that path, a soft chuckle parting his lips at Sebastian assurance the women had surely sought more than simple glances. Ah, but what a curious idea! So seeking to garner candy from ones neighbours by so demanding this trick or treat, although as to what occurred if one chose not to offer a treat the Fae finds himself given to consider if but momentarily. The idea however, that such activities were better suited to children sees that simper of amusement touch his features once more. This was but the first time he had ever been so informed he was too old for something! So many of his years spent being informed he appeared entirely too young for his proffered age. Dorian proceeding then to step away from his lover and- in a touch of that ever-present boldness, so present Sebastian with several waves of that stylised tail upon the assurance he could surely convince the man's neighbours all the same. His actions wholly playful and for the vampire alone, that decidedly accented huskiness so afflicting his lovers voice in that moment, that want readily stirring within him once more at even these subtle notes. His own words are soft now and yet hardly lacking that gentle not of amusement. Dorian so sharing but one of those observations of his companion.

"Do you know, Mon Cher, your words- they become very English sometimes. I do not think you notice."



He finds Sebastian so readily at his side once more as they step from the man's own walkway and out onto the street, Dorian content yet again in that closeness afforded to him as they navigated those streets, the world awash with costumed beings that both intrigued and confused the Monarch in every sense. Children, it seemed, were the most populace. The small beings so rushing about in all directions, that 'trick or treat' motif so resounding at every spare moment as Dorian allowed Sebastian to navigate their way through them. It is perhaps a slower walk then the vampire surely intended, Dorian so given to pause on several occasions if only to examine one thing or another, his silver gaze so lingering upon several costumes of merit though he hardly strays from Sebastian's side. It is the Witches however, that so seem to draw any true response from the man- even those costumes of the most stylized sort seeming to resulting in every muscle in the Fae's being tensing, his heart so quickening each and every time any witch should pass them. His silver gaze eyeing them entirely until they are out of sight. Even after all these years, even with mere humans dressed to portray them the man finds himself entirely ill at ease with witches. His meeting with Vhalla hardly having soothed his concerns, the overly abrasive woman having done little more than assure him his judgement of them was nothing but sound.

"I dislike Witches very much, they afforded me no small amount of grief once I fear. I have not forgotten it, not in all these years."

His words are decidedly soft and yet Dorian remained assured Sebastian would hear them all the same, the Monarch so offering the man some explanation to that quickening beat of his heart he knew already the vampire could surely hear. Dorian entirely content to press further away from those costumes and towards that looming castle, his eyes widening at this sudden discovery. Any idea of witches was all but forgotten in the wake of this. He can do little to so stop that grin from spreading across his features in delight at the veritable plethora of activity that existed before him, that silver gaze so lingering upon that 'Freak Night' night sign above before he allowed Sebastian to lead him within the depths of that castle. It was so very alive within those stone halls, the crowd bustling in such a fashion to be nearly overwhelming to the Fae King, so much colour and light and sound he hardly understood providing a veritable assault to his sense and yet in this moment he so found nothing but pleasure within it. Ah, but how his Father would roll in his very grave at the idea of the very King of Naples within the depths of such a festival as this and without even one guard! Those words whispered softly to his ear see Dorian's own gaze turn at last back to Sebastian, one hand reaching up to catch but a finger in the man's shirt, pulling him closer now to allow his lips to press just below the vampires own ear in chaste yet teasing gesture all the same.

"This- I love."

Those accented lyrics are little more than a whisper for his lover alone amongst that bustling crowd before Dorian allows his hand to once more intertwine with Sebastian's own in a gesture that had become very near normal to the man. Ah, but to think, he had once been so concerned over even this! It would be a thing most unfortunate to become so accidentally separated from his companion here, Dorian assured he should never find him again were that to happen- his gaze cast upward now to spy those tumbling acrobats above, a soft sound of shock parting his lips in some momentary fear they would all fall before, somehow, each seemed to flip back up once more. It was an illusion, surely, his gaze drawn away towards that myriad of games that seemed to line the halls. Dorian taking but a single step towards one, so utterly oblivious to the suit of armour that stood beside him and the very notion that it was hardly the statue it appeared- both metal arms suddenly lifting with that ever clichéd 'boo!' That sudden fright draws an entirely unbidden shout from the Fae's lips, his entire body jolting with the shock as he reels back into Sebastian- an eruption of laughter echoing from within that suit of armour, Dorian's own features remaining decidedly shocked. Here puppy, the photo turned out great. Even Dracula looks surprised. Take it, it's free. The talking suit of armour proceeds to lean to a counter beside him, passing Dorian that printed photo so taken entirely without his knowledge and mid-shout, Sebastian appearing somewhat wide-eyed beside him within the picture. This, at last, so seeing that laughter erupt from between his lips.

"This, I think, is the worst portrait of myself that has ever been captured and I think perhaps, the only time in which I have ever seen you look startled. This I like too. This I shall keep."

Dorian Aragona