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

It was unfortunate, truly, that the Monarch was given so little time to contemplate that decidedly English drink he was offered. Dorian, for once, so willing to admit that alcohol was surely not amiss in this situation. The Fae King himself finding something of a longing for that liquid stirring within him before that utter cry of distress seemed to obliterate such thoughts from his mind and instead refocus them upon that fearfully fractured Florence. The manner in which his lover so sunk to the ground amongst those pieces tugged almost painfully at his heartstrings and yet, more so, that look upon the man's face saw him all but crumble. Dorian utterly incapable of ignoring that look of unhappiness painted upon the vampire. That simple look of devastation and defeat more than Dorian was assured he could bear. His hand rested softly on his lover shoulder then, assuring him of his presence all the same before he moved to ease himself downward and onto that kitchen floor beside him. The admittance that it was he whom had been responsible for Florence's untimely death fell thickly from his throat, that guilt tugging at him even if it had hardly been on purpose. After all, were it not for the child, Dorian would surely have been nowhere near the kitchen at all let alone touching that beloved piece of kitchenware.

Sebastian's soft utterance that he would buy another hardly dissuaded the Fae from picking up several of those pieces all the same, Dorian so attempting to discover which piece went with which in that moment of silence that followed. The man working diligently at his newfound craft project before at last finding two pieces that seemed designed for one another. He was almost thankful, in some sense, for that distraction the task provided him, allowing his hands to be kept busy as his curious thoughts made some effort to arrange themselves into something suitable to be spoken. The delicacy off this matter as a whole hardly lost upon the Monarch. It was rare, after all, that either of the pair spoke deeply of their pasts in any sense. He knew well that much of Sebastian's own seemed to bring the vampire little pleasure to recount. That whatever he had done, and Dorian so needed little imagination to consider those things a newly turned vampire might have done, brought him little comfort to consider just as his own past held few moments of joy to recount upon much less his own tumultuous thoughts on the man he had once been in his own youth. Tonight however, it seemed there might be little escaping those questions. After all this child so effected the both of them now and Dorian so found himself uninclined to allow this matter to bypass them without a word of query. That softly uttered question at last falling from his lips only to be answered with that simple assurance. Any further question he may have held abruptly halted as Sebastian simply lay upon that kitchen floor, using one arm as a pillow of sorts, Dorian adjusting his own position slightly to use Sebastian's side as a backrest as his own legs stretched out in front of him. That suggestion that he might laugh met with raised brows.

"I am not quite assured I find what was surely one of the most traumatic nights of your life to be in any sense humorous. Why on earth would I laugh at you?"

The very idea that someone had laughed at the man over it was utterly ludicrous. Dorian's words almost vexed at the notion someone surely had and too- that it might be suggested that he too might have found his lovers death in any sense entertaining. Indeed, if anything of a positive note might be taken from this it was surely only that the vampirism which had taken him that night had allowed him to live long enough for Dorian to find him. That, perhaps, the single good thing that had come from all of this. No other part of that tale at all amusing as far as the Fae was concerned. Child or otherwise a vampire was a vampire and against a human man, even three of them, her victory was perhaps not at all surprising. This mention of Ceara momentarily saw his features frown, Dorian having little idea of whom such a woman was and yet if she was responsible for this laughing incident he was assured he disliked her all the same. This realisation of 'three' however, was entirely curious. Dorian near certain his lover had never mentioned any others that night he had so pointed out that place he had died from the Ferris Wheel within London. The Monarch momentarily considering such things before that soft sigh fell from his lips, his fingers still working at that teapot. His words softly mused almost as if to himself.

"People so think very little of Fae, as a species, they think of us as the weakest of the supernatural races in the least. The most fragile, the most breakable and yet can you imagine even the damage I could create amongst a veritable crowd of humans? I can steal the life from their veins as I did to Anna-Marie tonight, yet where she fell unconscious, a human would die. My power works both ways. It can give and take life. What I mean by this is simply that no matter how many men you had that night Bastian, it would not have mattered when faced with a vampire. Her size matters little. Her strength is as any vampires would be and upon a human that is devastating. If anything she was perhaps more dangerous, for children cannot reason. Your friends, are they vampires too now?"

It was curious perhaps, the way in which he so attempted to add some sort of...validation to his lovers death that night. After all, there was so much Sebastian surely already regretted off his death even if he hardly spoke of it, Dorian assured that shame at so being taken by a child hardly need be another to add to that list. Child or no child her strength and power were the same as any adult vampires ever might be. Dorian assured a child was surely a far more volatile, uncaring predator at that. His disdain for the girl tugging at him still as he worked to finish that part of Florence he worked upon, summoning his affinity now to blend those colours together and hide his handiwork. That soft clearing of Sebastian's throat dissuading his thoughts once more, the vampire so admitting he so often attempted to placate the girl in a fashion and that he had failed in that tonight. Dorian's own head merely shaking softly, that faint, almost fragile simper touching his lips now as he did. His silver gaze drifting to his companions own.

"There is nothing to forgive, Mon Cher. I too tried to placate her before you arrived by indulging her wishes and even that did not truly prove successful. Children are wilful, their moods change quickly."

His hand gestured briefly to that kitchen and the state it was in, along with that shattered Florence and several puddles of water that still existed let alone the mess the girl had made throwing things from the cupboards in search of what she had wanted. Neither of them, tonight, had perhaps been entirely successful in that endeavour. The Monarch so hardly holding Sebastian to blame in any sense for what had occurred. Indeed, the Fae held one singular small being responsible for the entire evening and she alone so held his displeasure. That repaired part of Florence was handed readily back to his lover then, Sebastian glancing upward from the floor to eye his crafting work, Dorian's own smile faltering slightly in the wake of that almost weak simper his lover managed in return and yet truly the Fae hardly expected a slightly repaired teapot might improve tonight's mood. That assurance that such a thing would take him all night and indeed that he hardly need do it so tugging that softened simper to his own lips once more. His fingers already working upon that next piece.

"Perhaps it might take me a few nights then, I have time. Besides, I am not at all assured that you are aware of the look you had upon your face when you saw her broken and I positively cannot stand to see you look like that."

It made his very heart ache! Dorian assured the teapot was entirely repairable even if it took him several nights and those fragments that had become dust-like need be painted in place entirely. The Fae moving to begin work on that next section, his fingers dutifully painting it back into place in turn as his features shifted once more into that look of concentration as he lent back against his lovers side.

"It was Anna-Marie, wasn't it, that Samantha experienced with you that night?"

The Fae woman had told him something of that night and yet so much of it seemed to make far more sense to him now that he had seen the child for himself. It had been Anna-Marie, surely, that Sebastian had been attempting to shield Samantha from and yet that idea that Sebastian had bitten her against his own desire just as he had, mostly, obeyed the child's command to stay beside the wall lest she turn on Dorian himself so saw the Monarch consider once more the implications of this relationship he held with his 'Maker'.

"Need you do everything she tells you? Is this an affinity she possesses or is this the way of things for vampires and Makers? Have you no choice? Forgive my questions, you need not answer them if they distress you. I am simply trying to understand so that I might know how best we might approach this situation should she return."

dorian aragona