Sebastian Ellington

Sebastian despised the simple fact that he was bringing home his latest prey to his boyfriend's home. That simple fact was made exceedingly worst by the knowledge that she, surely, meant something to the King, that he had fed upon her enough to produce some desire within her to 'show him a good time', and, in turn, the decidedly fragile state that they were both within. Still, he knew well it couldn't be helped - they were already here and neither of them would make it back to his own estate in the North in one piece. A soft breath left his lips as Vhal rather dejectedly smacked on the door, the girl seeming far more like a spoiled child in that moment and yet, he was hardly in the place to judge. It seemed forever, those moments of simply waiting at that door, the man had, in fact, been but a breath away from asking Vhalla to knock yet again before it swings inward, revealing the singular soul he both desperately wanted and wholly dreaded. A weak simper crossed his features at the sound of his name upon Dorian's lips and yet, any word that would have left his mouth was drowned out by Vhalla's incessant giggles, clearly finding that pet name to be vastly more entertaining than it should have. His lips pressed together ever so slightly and yet, hardly a comment left Sebastian's lips as he stepped past his lover and into that apartment.

His head bobbed at the notion of that sofa, slowly making his room only to deposit the girl carefully upon those leather cushions. It felt good to be free of her, even as he stepped away from that scent of blood that had only became all the heavier with each passing moment, calling to the already hungry vampire. That question that had left his lover's lips was entirely ignored, his thoughts instead focused entirely upon that indiscriminate need for blood - blood to heal his own wounds, blood to replace that which he was actively losing and, blood that was but feed away from him. Those thoughts, quite thankfully, were interrupted only by Dorian's return with that small kit nestled in his hands. Those nearly colorless eyes met the strikingly silver hue of his lover's as the King moved ever so closer towards him. He watched simply as Dorian's fingers reached out to touch that stained shirt, lifting the fabric for both of them to see. It had certainly gotten better then it had been when first grazed by that knife - at least such was the first thing he noticed though it hardly had healed to the true extent he desired.

That soft hiss and those words that left his lover's lips saw his gaze rise and yet, the Englishman merely shook his head ever so slightly. "It is fine." He muttered, knowing well that any damage that knife had done could certainly be repaired, even if such a fact hardly stopped it from hurting. Still, his life, now, could scarcely be ended by a single blow to the stomach or even the loss of copious amounts of blood. All it did was serve to make the vampire all the more starving. That shift of movement upon the sofa drew his nearly ebony eyes back towards the young woman, his nose twitching at the rapid scent of that blood. She'd reopened her wound, hadn't she? His tongue gingerly swept across his lips as Dorian approached the sofa, confirming in that simple moment that he recognized that ivory haired woman. And yet, despite the worry he should have felt - both for her and for so appearing upon Dorian's door in such a manner, his attention was instead focused entirely on that scent of blood. That sound of his own name, although wailed more like a banshee, was enough to momentarily push the struggling vampire's thoughts away from that very thing he so needed and back towards whatever nonsensical giggling that left Vhalla's lips.

He knew well enough that she was certainly not as fine as she insisted and yet, that brush of silver and red against the whiteness of her hair saw a small frown press across his lips. The tips of his own blond locks had already been tinted a similar color from when the women had buried her hands within his locks. Still, there was little point in reasoning with the woman, even he knew that. A soft sigh left his lips as Vhalla insisted yet again she was fine. That brush of silver, however, entirely drew the vampire's focus as his King turned to face him. How he yearned to run his tongue across his lover's cheek, to wipe away that blood with gentle kisses! And yet, despite it all, the vampire remained exactly where he stood, simply listening to those Italian lyrics the King offered him as he spoke of Vhalla's lifeforce. Slowly, he shook his head ever so slightly. "Non c'è bisogno." (There is no need for that). He offered quite simply in response. Even he was acutely aware of how much blood Vhalla had still to offer, and how much was leaving her system. She would be fine if they saw to her wounds relatively quickly. Dorian's gift was hardly necessary.

Still, even despite his insistence that the woman didn't need the King's own life force, that simple fact that Dorian was entirely unknowledgeable of that first aid kit, and in turn Vhalla's insistence that he "fix it" saw him pause. They had little idea, truly, what they were asking of him, did they? Did they have the slightest notion of how utterly dangerous this was for them? Vhalla was practically spreading her blood like paint when she wasn't too busy covering the floor with it and yet - he was supposed to fix this? His lips pressed together ever so slightly before he nodded, "All right." He uttered softly, more in a firm reassurance to himself then to the group at large. "Dorian, could you get me a damp towel so we can get the blood out of her hair?" He inquired, tentatively stepping forward to take that kit from off the coffee table. He swallowed at the sight of that blood that had pooled just beneath the coffee table. He could do this, he was sure he could do this, as long as Vhalla remained still, they could possibly get through this. He opened that box, withdrawing from it several bits of supplies before reaching over towards her side. He knew exactly where that wound was, having just eaten from it but half an hour ago and yet, it was quite clear it had grown particularly angry with the girl's movement. He gathered several pieces of those gauze pads in his hands before, quite firmly, he pressed his fingers against that wound, applying pressure in order to encourage it to stop.