Dorian AragonaHis Royal Highness

She was teasing at him, he was sure of it and yet such a thing was still rather an unusual notion to the man, Dorian still learning to tell the difference between that which was genuine and what entirely sarcastic in nature was. This idea that several house fires might be occurring seeing his eyes narrow before he moved to lead her outside. The sunlight was far brighter then he remembered, those rays warm against his skin as he led her towards that private little garden park beside the apartment complex. It was wholly empty at this time of the day and too- those thick hedges and trees provided something of a barrier against passers-by and passing traffic. Affording the pair some manner of privacy. That tiredness tugged at him still, Dorian so imagining the warmth of his abandoned bed before he turned his mind more fully to the task at hand, the Monarch fetching a rock from within that garden bed to place upon the grass a short distance from the girl. Would it not be best, after all, to see just what he had to work with? Dorian content to employ those teaching methods Matteo had once employed with him.

To his surprise, the witch moves to simply pick that rock back up, turning it over within her hands before declaring she had no control of that power, that she could not summon it at will and that, when it so arrived, she tended to embody a human torch rather than merely just one part of her body engaging that fire. His own features frowned slightly. Dorian having failed to anticipate she had no control at all over that ability- affording the man truly little to work with- if anything at all. The defeat in the woman's voice was hardly missed, nor the way her arms moved to hug herself, a sigh drawn within his throat to fall softly from his lips at last. This would be no small task. In fact, this was akin to teaching a child whom had but just discovered their first affinity. Yet had he not given her his word? The Fae King hardly inclined to go back upon any sort of promise unless he was forced to do so. For all his airs and graces after all the man was, at heart- a good man.

"Then we will start with the metaphorical embers and build them into flames. Sit."

He waited for the woman to seat herself on the grass, Dorian moving to sit across from her with but a small space between them still just in case the woman should somehow ignite herself and him in turn. He paused for a moment longer then, considering just where was best to begin before leaning back upon his elbows in a fashion distinctly casual- the small of that grass so apparent to him. Hmm, it had been far too long since he had considered that. His silver gaze rested on the woman's own then. Dorian taking an entirely different approach now.

"Could you tell me, Vhal, when was the first time you ever used your power? What were you doing? What happened? What were you feeling? It is important that I understand this as it seems to me your power may be akin to one of my own, one linked to an emotional response."