he was both everything you could ever want
and nothing you could ever have

The Englishman was rather particular of those topics he found of interest enough to explore further then that simple acceptance of what was on the surface. Though his interest in those sand dollars was perhaps not as great as his lover had desired, he found himself completely captivated by this news of that vampire whom had so become pregnant. He hardly held any notions that this phenomenon might so allow him that family that had been taken from him. After all, he had chosen the fae King as his lover and had little intention of changing paths. He had given the man his very heart - a fact that would never change in any fashion either met an unexpected and untimely end. However, it was the simple notion that this was surely impossible that made him all the more curious of this simple miracle of sorts. Still, he rather enjoyed working out the probabilities with Dorian all the same, so prompting him to come to the conclusion that it surely had to have been the woman carrying Troy's child that had the rather peculiar affinity that had so allowed her to carry a child.

That declaration that he must have been correct only served to bring a simper to his features. His head bobbed ever so slightly in agreement of the child, altogether unsurprised of his lover's desire to have met her if only to further unravel that mystery that clearly threatened to overwhelm the king far greater than it had intrigued himself. Still, it was in the wake of that declaration of the vampire child's birth that so seemed to have brought about thoughts that even Sebastian was inclined to simply side step as often as utterly possible. High society had a way of being utterly vicious to those born out of wedlock, so often looking down upon them for being lesser and, in some ways, the posh still continued with regarding such a thing as more akin to scandalous, particularly on those figures thrust within the spotlight. For the everyday individual, however, such as Troy's child, such was graciously not a conundrum they so faced. Troy's child would be free of that which had beset Dorian for the greater part of near six hundred years. Despite this, the vampire still found himself treading carefully on the topic all the same as he inquired if Dorian knew who his father was.

That smile that touched the King's lips caused a glimpse of inquisitiveness to cross his features, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. He hardly anticipated that simple fact that he had been the first that truly had ever inquired and yet...he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Dorian was royalty and had been so the entirety of his life, a fact that Sebastian found himself occasionally forgetting if only for the familiar terms he had with the man. His attention was wholly steadfast upon the man as he so admitted that he had his thoughts and yet, if he had wished someone had asked sooner...than he could only suspect that whomever Dorian contemplated being his own father was long dead now. Unfortunately, such a question hardly left his lips before, unsurprisingly, his lover's fascination with the unknown shifted, turning instead upon that magnificently built though rather small sand castle and that group that surrounded it. A small simper danced across Sebastien features as he settled upon the sand at Dorian's side, entirely unperturbed by this shift from the topic at large. After all, Dorian's lineage meant particularly little to the vampire himself, beyond perhaps who he needed to ask for the King's hand when the time came.

His bright blue eyes instead turned upon that instructor, watching as the man attempted to explain the creation of those bricks, his gaze deviated only at that soft inquiry from his lover's own lip. Slowly, the vampire shook his head, willing to admit that his skills in this area were decidedly lackluster, even if it only caused a laugh to fall from the Monarch. A rueful grin crossed his features as his attention turned to the tail end of that lecture, the vampire entirely content to remain at his lover's side as Dorian found a place on at the fringe of that group, armed with those free buckets. His head shook ever so slightly at the fae's promise, "I don't mind, Ma Bichette." After all, today was their celebration. He was wholly content to remain upon this sand whilst Dorian so busied himself with castles if it meant even a moment longer in the sun. The vampire utterly relished in that warmth against that cotton t-shirt, even if it was with that perpetual undercurrent of anxiety. Nevertheless, he busied himself, for the time being, with filling that bucket with the appropriate amount of water and sand, showing the Monarch what little he did know before upending it with delicate assurance, pulling that bucket away only to reveal that still perfectly placed together bit of sand ready for molding.

For a moment, Sebastian merely regarded that creation, his ability when it came to art certainly left much to be desired. He was capable of appreciating those meticulous works Dorian crafted and yet, beyond the precision of music notes, Sebastian's drawing skills consisted only of the fleurs needed to decorate those fanciful letters. His decision on that makeshift castle, however, was interrupted only by the Monarch's admittance of the Italian newspapers, his gaze shifted upwards towards the man before he slowly shook his head. "I've been rather ignoring the thing." He admitted, referring to the office in general. After all, Dorian's continued existence within his home was still a new enough thing that he had found himself indulging within the King unless their business was absolutely crucial. Still, he doubted that even Italy could so unseat their King, not without another suitable replacement. "I would not worry of it much." He offered after a moment's consideration, attempting to provide reassurance regardless of whether or not the fae truly required it.

Tentatively, his own fingers picked at that sand, wary of it collapsing even if his true attention was steadfast upon the man at his side as he so spoke of years long past. He had little really to offer, beyond that of a caring heart and listening ear and yet, he anticipated that, perhaps, that was all Dorian truly wanted after all this time. His gaze shifted from that delicate work towards the man all the same as he spoke of his own dislike at the Italian press' ability to paint his mother in a less than glorious light. Still, he took the effort all the same to remember those names Dorian offered him, his finger's slipping only at the mention of that one he knew to be his lover's father - Matteo. "Oops." He uttered softly as he glanced down at the damage he had done to his lob of sand, his head tilting slightly to the side as he so considered how this might be fixed. He was silent for a few moments longer before he inquired softly, "Are you going to ask him?" It was, perhaps, the question that lingered upon his mind the most - would his lover finally be given that chance to have that relationship with his father like he had so desired? Fortunately, a perhaps more pressing matter drew his attention - his sandcastle.

He leaned back upon his shoulders, glancing at it over the rim of his sunglasses. "Tada." He declared, rather enthusiastically. "It's Rapunzel's tower. You know who Rapunzel is, right?" He inquired, his head slowly shifting to Dorian. It was hardly a work of art by any real means and yet, at the very least the top resembled the top of a tower. "That's her window to look out on the world." He announced, pointing at the singular little notch of sand drawn out from it. "And that is where her evil stepmother enters." He added, pointing to another small bit of sand removed at the base. Well...he had warned Dorian....

Sebastian Ellington