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

No one, it seemed, was willing to afford him an explanation of exactly what had happened to so result in both his beloved and a woman he knew ending up in a bloodied state upon his doorstep. Had Vhalla injured Sebastian? Surely Sebastian was not the cause of the injury upon the witch? Such a wound, after all, appeared much as Sebastian's own- more akin to a blade- and surely not the weapon of choice for his Consort. Had someone attacked them both? The idea that they had surely been together for such an incident to occur was not one Dorian so wished to consider. If Sebastian had been feeding upon her then that was the vampires business alone and yet that very knowledge of just what feelings his lovers bite might create within his victims so resulted in that sense of discomfort within Dorian all the same. How easy it was to dismiss those whom Sebastian fed from when the King was never given to have to see them! Any such thoughts however were quickly evaporated in those moments that followed. Sebastian so assuring him his wound was fine as Vhalla proceeded to very near shriek that pet name he had taken to calling the vampire by almost exclusively. Reluctant though he was to ignore Sebastian's wound, the witch upon the couch seemed to have been taken by some measure of delusion brought on by her own blood loss, the girl flailing about as he crouched down beside her only to display her bloodied hand to him and declare that she too- was uninjured.

"Yes I see your blood, if you could keep it to your- oh my."

Her hand proceeded to smear that blood across his cheek in the same moment, a look of horror crossing his features. A further pool of that liquid was beginning to form upon the floor and across the couch- the scent of it apparent to even Dorian himself as he lent away from the girl to turn back to his companion. Ignoring her demands that Sebastian fix her hair. Women! That mention of his lover so having bitten her saw his silver gaze lift briefly to her neck and yet the man moved to turn his gaze away in near the same moment. Had he not assured Sebastian that his feeding habits would not cause issue? Dorian wholly determined that they would not. The Fae King almost ashamed of that momentary touch of emotion that seemed to afflict him at being presented with this reality. To so be faced with one of Sebastian's victims was merely unexpected and yet his companion was what he was, it would not change, Dorian surprised to so realise he was perhaps...alright with it. He was no Isabella. He refused to be. An assurance of sorts settling within himself as he turned his mind to those far more pressing issues, his lyrics shifting to Italian then to better speak with the vampire as his own affinity allowed him that glimpse of the witches life-force. She was, if anything, hardly about to die and yet her constant movement only seemed to worsen that wound as blood flowed more freely from it.

He nodded softly as Sebastian seemed to feel his own talents were not needed before Dorian admitted his lack of ability with that first aid kit. Those modern supplies far beyond his ability to work with, his knowledge limited to bandages alone and yet the Monarch was entirely willing to try all the same. Medical work, in his time, was reserved exclusively for those charlatans. Those of the upper houses would never been seen to dabble in things so unsavoury as wounds and yet such ideals had thusly left the king with little to no knowledge on how to attend to these matters. It was that pause however, that so saw his attention refocus wholly upon Sebastian. Dorian entirely attentive to the man as he was no other, his silver gaze following Sebastian's own in that moment to that bloodied wound upon the girl, that pool upon the floor and those small red rivulets running across her side. The Monarch recognising that hunger so readily now. What a perfect fool he had been to fail to not consider this! Dorian so inwardly berating himself as Sebastian suddenly requested sodden towels with which to fix the woman's hair. Dorian shifted from his place upon the floor- and yet he hesitated still with that newest realisation so potent within his mind. A nod at last given as he strode back to the kitchen, returning but a few minutes later with that requested towel. Crouching at the vampire's side. His hands reached gently then for Sebastian's own as he tended that wound, resting suddenly atop them, squeezing softly until his lovers gaze had turned fully to Dorian himself. Those Italian lyrics leaving his lips once more.

"Bastian. Guardami. Se non è possibile fare questo si deve dirmi, mi dica e io prendere il sopravvento e si può parlare con le istruzioni per me da lontano se necessario, altrimenti sarò lavorare fuori per me. Sono sicuro di poter fasciare una ferita. Puoi farlo?"
(Bastian. Look at me. If you cannot do this you must tell me, tell me and I shall take over and you can speak instructions to me from afar if need be, else I will work it out for myself. I am sure I can bandage a wound. Shall I take over?)

There was a distinct note of seriousness to his voice now. Sebastian so often inclined to take on perhaps more then he should, Dorian unwilling to allow him to do so now. He held the upmost faith in his lover's control, after all, he had so trusted his life to the vampire over and again and yet this was beyond what most vampires could surely withstand. There was no shame in so removing himself from this. Vhalla could afford to lose no more blood. Dorian assured he would be unable to stop the vampire if his control should falter. The resulting guilt that would follow the man perhaps equally as catastrophic. Vhalla, for her part, continuing to move about with that assurance she was not injured, making the entire process far more difficult then it surely need be.

"Woman please! You will render yourself unconscious if you continue to move about like this. Please stay still. If you do we shall fix your hair."

dorian aragona