you were the answer to my dreams

That topic of the Englishman's wife was perhaps a particularly difficult one for the man, even if he mentioned her existence within his life in a completely casual fashion those few times any hint of her had left his lips. Even after all those years that passed, he still, to this day, found himself turning to leave at the offhand occurrence that any of his nightly 'victims' happened to share the same syllables that made up her name. How that simple word had a power to dredge up memories he was sure were better left forgotten entirely. Sebastian was, perhaps, inclined to strive to forget as much of her as he possibly could, even if he knew well his attempts to do resulted in little more than simply burying those thoughts far too deep within himself. He was aware, vaguely, of that notable glimpse of surprise across his lover's features that his marriage to that woman had occurred some time later in his afterlife and yet, he hardly saw a reason to comment on it, much less expand further. After all, what was there to say? How he'd been young and foolish and perhaps a bit over eager to find anyone so willing to embrace the creature he'd become in a society where they were very much deemed the demons that even Dorian had so mistaken him to be? That she had been the first to...the memory alone brought the softest of sighs to his lips and it was perhaps a bit to eagerly that Sebastian so jumped upon the topic of that artist that had so graced the ceiling of one of the world's most famous cathedrals.

It was mention of that gift in which the King so wished to bestow upon him that saw his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. He was hardly surprised however that his lover refused to provide him with even a hint of what that present so consisted of. That mystery so greatly personified the monarch to the point that Sebastian had nearly come to simply expect such reactions entirely. The vampire shook his head ever so slight, all too aware of Dorian's attempt to so lead his own thoughts upon that all too inquisitive surprise. As much as Sebastian hated to admit it, that simple secrecy worked perhaps every time the fae so employed it, particularly so during the early days of their relationship. How many nights he'd so laid in that bed alone with his thoughts drifting towards the fae and that 'next time' he had been so consistently teased with! Sebastian was content to allow his thoughts to so dwell upon those vastly more pleasant memories as he led his lover down that path and towards the eastern part of the Orangery where the sun's rays so streamed brightest, the location of those flowers too planted with the same meticulous care and thought as every facet of that estate the vampire so cherished.

It was, however, only Dorian's rather abrupt inquiry that so saw Sebastian glance over his shoulder at his companion. He hardly paused as that explanation of his species so fell from his lips, the vampire admitting for, perhaps the first time, the sheer capabilities of his kind and yet, even that simple acknowledgement was so laced with the resentment of his turning and that murder that'd taken place upon London streets so very many years ago. It was something that, though he could never forgive, he had attempted to come to terms with. Rather, he'd thought he had before his own very maker so naively walked into his life, disrupting long buried feelings of such remorse for his own life that had been so stolen from him. A small flick of his wrist was all that that was given in return to his lover's concern for believing those teachings that had so circulated of his kind, the vampire truly taking particularly little insult. Rather, he was far more amused by the notion of garlic and churches that so riddled Italy, a small simper so crossing his features as Dorian stepped to his side. "That would have made things...rather difficult." He responded in agreement.

His bright blue eyes so shifted to his King as that topic of his own religion was so commented on, the vampire's head bobbing ever so slightly. "Belton has it's own parish." The vampire commented idly, so expanding upon that topic that, for whatever reason, his lover so ignored. After all the church had been a cornerstone of his own era, nearly demanding his attendance every Sunday in life. "Mass is every Sunday at eleven. Though, on Christmas Eve the minister is usually kind enough to ensure there is a service at eight." Why hardly even needed to be spoken, or at least, so Sebastian was assured. After all, though church on Christmas morning might be an impossibility for him, some traditions could not be entirely ignored altogether. Still, such dismal thoughts of such activities like this which were so restricted were put off entirely, the vampire instead allowed a small simper to so cross his features. "I think the steeple has a bell as old as you." He added in an entirely teasing fashion, even as Dorian's shoulder so affectionately brushed against his own.

Such words of religion, however, came to a rather abrupt end at the sight of the sheer number and colors that so surrounded them, the vampire's gaze momentarily captivated wholly by something so seemingly insignificant. Gingerly, his hand reached out to stroke the petals of a tri-colored morning glory, those words of appreciation so leaving his lips. A small simper crossed his features as Dorian's own mouth pressed gingerly against his cheek in a decidedly chaste kiss, his head merely bobbing ever so slightly in response. For the next half an hour or so, the vampire was wholly content to simply enjoy the presence of that rainbow of life that so surrounded them, to the fullest of his capabilities till it was so required that they retreat back through that cold and into the warmth of the house itself. He was remiss to so see that end of his glimpse of life so once again looming upon him and yet, even he knew this moment was inevitable. It was with but once last parting glance to that sun that was given before those thick curtains were pulled over those windows of his bedroom, leaving them in a swathe of darkness as the vampire began to peel those clothes off his form, so crawling into bed beside his lover and too relishing in that simple body heat of their naked flesh so pressed against each other.

It was that shifting of his lover at his side that so drew his gaze to his companion, the vampire all too aware of that life slowly draining from his body. That exhaustion hitting him nearly like a freight drain from the lack of sleep from their journey and too, the sharp contrast from death and life his body had so experienced in those moments prior. Regardless, the vampire nestled against his companion, so subconsciously seeking that comfort he found pressed against Dorian's form alone. There was a soft yawn upon his lips, even as Dorian's own so easily found his neck and yet, the vampire hardly shifted in the slightly. That inquiry slowly drew the vampire's gaze downwards and towards his lover as he shifted ever so slightly. "I got you a rock. He has a bowtie too..." He commented softly, his words drawn out in his own desire for sleep. "...I named...him Jefferson." The vampire continued, letting his eyelashes flutter close over those bright blue eyes as Dorian's power so faded from his form and that vampiric need for that death so eagerly embraced him. "You can meet him tomorrow." He muttered finally, those words hardly even a whisper before the vampire was indeed lost to that living world cursed to once again become little more than a corpse with some residual heat from his recent redeath.

Sebastian Ellington