every king had a story, of ancient glory,sweetly told

It was a perfectly quiet evening. Dorian entirely alone within that little apartment and- with no intention to waste that solitude- the Monarch had situated himself in that combined living and dining room. His art supplies were spread across the table and yet despite that look of chaos portrayed by those scatted implements he knew where each and every pencil, brush or pastel sat within that pile. It was rare indeed for the man to be at home at all, much less home alone and yet tonight was one of those few nights in which his lover had gone out to see to his own needs. Dorian so often taking to his art on those nights if only for an effort to distract himself from the utter displeasure he found in that lack of Sebastian for even one night. It was entirely foolish he knew. That Fae King aware he was surely no better than a love-struck boy on some nights and yet for Sebastian alone he was often willing to embrace that foolishness of thought. His phone was situated next to him all the same, Dorian holding little intent of interrupting the vampire and yet there was a measure of comfort that so seemed to come from the knowledge he might reach his Consort if he was so needed. Otherwise, Dorian did not ask about those occasional nights in which his lover ventured into the city and Sebastian, in turn, did not tell- that unspoken agreement having existed successfully between them for months now. The entirety of his attention turned instead to his artwork.

He rolled up the sleeves of that grey-hued jacket that hung loosely from his figure, Dorian having decided he liked it enough to pilfer from his boyfriend's wardrobe, the man leaning forward upon the table then with brush in hand. He reached readily for that blue paint, adding but the softest touch of white to it to lighten out that shade before applying it with expert ease to his canvas. Those colours shifted and lightened upon his command and beneath the touch of that brush, his affinity extended over the entirety of the work and yet he so often chose to engage those more supernatural skills only for those small, finite details no mortal hand could craft. His slate-hued gaze remained fixated upon that painting, the man pausing only to glance upward at the clock, noting the ever-growing lateness of the hour, before leaning across the table to turn on the radio that rested there. Dorian having recently discovered that classical channel that came on each night at the specified hour. The Fae slowly beginning to learn to identify those pieces, a hum rising within his throat now as he worked on that beach scene- the man having broken with tradition to so paint the beach beneath the glow of the moon rather than the sun.

The soft, odd knock that echoed within the room saw his head lift a moment later, one hand raising to run through his brunette locks, inquisitiveness settling upon his features as he laid down that brush and strode to the sink. He washed his hands hurriedly, rubbing the paint from them lest he present himself in any sort of disagreeable manner before making his way to the door. His bare feet silent upon those wooden floors as he reached for the handle. Dorian finally having learned that Samantha did not keep servants to do this for them and that knocking generally required one to rise. That door was pulled a jar a mere second later, Dorians gaze met immediately with the sight of a rather poorly woman nestled within the arms of none other than his own boyfriend. That singular shock of seeing Sebastian seemed to cloud his thoughts so much so that he did not, at first, so realise that he knew the woman within his lovers arms all the same. His features so affording him little more than a look of shock.

"Bastian?"

His voice was entirely questioning and yet just how the vampire had come to be here and why he had a woman within his arms- those initial questions that so sprung to mind- seemed to become vastly irrelevant as Dorian so suddenly became aware of the state of both those individuals. He stepped abruptly to the side, gesturing for Sebastian to come in, silver gaze eyeing that bloodied trail of sorts that had been left up the staircase and yet for now such a thing would have to wait to be dealt with as the door was hurriedly shut behind the pair, the Fae gesturing towards that couch within the living room before moving hurriedly to the kitchen. He spoke as he walked, anxiety lacing his voice as he began to rummage in the cupboard.

"Perhaps you might put her down over there, I believe we have some sort of...box one uses for injuries. What on earth happened to her? To you?"

That first aid kit Samantha had used on Dorian himself several times was readily produced. The man having no knowledge of how to use it outside of merely finding it as he strode back across the room, his thoughts still entirely a flurry as he placed it upon the coffee table nearby the semi-conscious looking girl. The Fae King turned back to his lover then, gaze resting readily upon his blood-stained shirt, fingers reaching gingerly forward to lift that fabric just so and eye the wound beneath, Dorian inhaling sharply.

"Oh, Love-."

The emotion within those single words was entirely palpable, distress becoming readily apparent upon Dorian's own features before he let that shirt fall once more, whatever further words he might have offered interrupted by the sound of the woman shifting upon the couch. Sebastian's immortality would surely prevent his lover from succumbing to that wound any time soon, Dorian knowing well that logic even is his affections so disagreed. Decorum so demanding they perhaps attend to that woman first as the Fae so at last turned towards her now- only to finally realise so exactly who it was.

"Vhalla?"

How was it so his lover continued to find those women connected to him in turn!? The surprise in his voice echoed once more, Dorian crouching down beside her now as she rested upon the couch, confusion so tainting his words as he glanced from the vampire to the witch and back again. The King moving hurriedly to recover all the same. Assured one of them would surely avail him with the tale as soon as they were attended too. His own affinity extended now, allowing him to see that very life within the witch herself. The girl dimmer then she should have been and yet hardly upon deaths door just yet. She would survive if nothing else. His anxiety easing slightly. The witch was perhaps not his most...favoured of people and yet for all her oddities he had become used to her presence floating in and out of his home. She was here some nights and gone others, much as himself. Dorian having become almost used to her odd nature and habit of setting things alight. He hardly desired to see harm come to her. Where or how she was wounded he remained unsure as he reached to gently take her hand in an almost...kind gesture, squeezing it lightly if only to get the giddy girls attention.

"Where is it you are injured? Perhaps Sebastian and I might see to assisting you with your wounds if you are not opposed?"

It was an antiquated notion perhaps and yet even despite his hand touching her own and the very notion that Sebastian had carried her in, much less that she surely needed medical attention, the man still found himself seeking that...permission to touch her. Dorian turning to gesture briefly to that first aid kit now as he turned to face his boyfriend once more. His lyrics now partly in Italian though hardly through an effort to conceal his words from Vhalla. More so- there were none outside Sebastian who know of his own gift of life. The man unwilling to share such knowledge yet.

"I fear I do not know how to use that first aid box but perhaps we might find a bandage within to assist us? Posso vedere la sua forza di vita, lo sento, non è affatto per morire anche se è un po 'debole. Potrei essere in grado di assit in quel modo se si pensa che è necessario. Vorrei partecipare a voi troppo- una volta che è fatto proprio."
(I can see her life force, I can feel it, she is not at all about to die though it is a little dim. I might be able to assist in that fashion if you think it is needed. I should like to attend to you too- once she is made right. Please.)

dorian aragona