Sebastian Ellington

I thought you knew I was filthy rich
I thought you knew I never answer my phone
I thought you knew I was a late night with a bad bite I thought you knew.

That ceramic pottery was certainly the personification of his evening. Before a few hours ago, everything had been near perfect. He'd found some sort of food, small though it was before there was intervention (that alone, truly, should have informed him of how his night was going to go) before stumbling upon truffles to share with the man he so desperately adored. He had been looking forward to spending the remainder of those evening hours nestled within his lover's lap and sharing those delectable sweets with the fae King before his life was torn asunder. His fingers delicately traced that crack within the the teapot, dusting away those small particles from that break before his thumbs gingerly caressed the face of the broken kettle that had served him so well for so long. He was well aware of his lover's toying with those shattered pieces and yet, he had particularly little hope in the recovery of that pot, much less finding another quite like it after so many years that have passed. Nevertheless, he saw little reason to stop the fae King from trying, if it so suited him to do so. He hardly expected that inquiry to so breech the silence that existed between them and yet, perhaps he should have. After all, Dorian had said there was a need for them to talk about...well this. The Monarch's involvement with him meant that Anna-Marie was a problem he too would have to deal with.

That realization alone made him near cringe, much less the awareness that 'let's talk' was often reflected in those modern relationships as something altogether devastating. Still, he chose to believe that the existence of his maker was not enough to see their relationship fracture, even if he was also equally beset with the notion that perhaps his presence within Dorian's life would only result in the man's near inevitable future harm. It was a double-edged sword and yet, the sheer negativity of it all was content to toy with his thoughts, even if he rarely allowed such considerations to leave his lips or be given any real life. It was in his very nature to attempt to appear nothing but pleasant when his thoughts were anything but. It was with all that upon his mind that Sebastian answered with one singular word, pausing but moments later to add his utter disdain for being laughed at for those events that had brought him into death. He settled onto the floor, his gaze staring up at that ceiling. He felt Dorian re-adjust ever so slightly, enough to set his back against the vampire's side. That comment that left Dorian's lips produced little more than a small shrug of his shoulders. He knew well the humor that Ceara had found in it. Grown men felled by a child and yet, any one of the supernatural world surely would have anticipated the odds against his favor. What chance did three entirely drunk men have against a hungry child-vampire? Truly?

His bright blue irises shifted towards his companion as the Italian began to ponder over that very probability. He listened silently as Dorian so contemplated the damage he himself could do if deposited in a crowd of humans. That alone a thing Sebastian hardly had to even consider. He knew well himself what he could do if left unchecked amongst that delicate race of mortals. "I know." He uttered softly, hardly requiring that reassurance that Dorian so attempted to part on him. "I know. I know there was nothing I could have done to stop her. Any of us...really." He stated, quite certain of himself in that. He had contemplated that many of times and yet, truly, they hardly were capable of even walking straight that night - not after that party and the booze. That inquiry of his companions that night caused him to shake his head ever so slightly. "No, John died. Will was turned into a Hunter that night. I guess his maker found him after I already left. I didn't know he was still alive till recently." The talk of William caused a brief flutter of a frown to cross his features, the vampire still rather put out that his best friend had abandoned him after so pledging he would stay by Sebastian's side for an eternity. Still, the signs had been there. He guessed...he guessed they simply had grown apart after all those centuries.

Nevertheless, Sebastian made an effort to at least apologize for the evening and how it had so ended. After all, he had surely been the cause of that tantrum that had seen the vampire tossed across the hallway and his lover's life put at risk. If he had simply employed his affinity in the way he so often did - things could have been different, he was assured of it. That soft shake of Dorian's head drew his gaze, that faint smile served only to bring a wrinkle to his eyebrows as Dorian so effortlessly pushed aside those attempts to apologize. His own eyes traced the kitchen surrounding him and that mess that had all but been ignored in the wake of that discovery of his broken Florence. That frown only deepening at the sight of those disheveled cupboards, spilled water, and numerous items that littered the floor of his home. A soft whine left his lips as he eyed that mess, the vampire often preferring the sheer immaculateness of his home. This...this simply would not do. His consideration of that untidy kitchen, however, was interrupted by that delicate pressing of those now pieced together bits of Florence into his hand. That simper, however, with met with but an altogether week one of his own. Rather, the vampire made an effort to assure the King that such surely laborious work was hardly necessary. It would certainly take hours to repair his teapot at this rate, with each piece so requiring such a delicate touch. Dorian, it would seem, was not particularly as easy to be dissuaded.

That assurance that he intended to fix it regardless of how long it took was met with a small furrowing of his brows, the vampire entirely unaware of why Dorian seemed so intent upon this very thing until the fae felt fit to comment upon those emotions that had so fluttered unguarded across his features upon the discovery of that shattered teapot. He could hardly help that nearly guilty look within the moment, the Englishman entirely aware that his attachment to certain objects within that household was particularly atypical. But still - they persisted for so long while everyone else was so particularly fleeting in his life. "I'm sorry." He muttered in a fashion that was almost a habit and yet, surely, he should have been apologetic for that unusual demeanor. He shifted, taking that pot within his hands as Dorian so returned to that task he had set himself to. It was that question, however, that finally saw the vampire move from that spot upon the floor. He sat up with a soft sigh, placing that teapot beside his lover. "I suppose I do owe you that story, even if it's pointless now. I suppose I owe you a few stories, hm?" He inquired, leaning over ever so slightly to place his chin upon Dorian's shoulder. "Assuming that you're intending to stay with me in spite of her." Those words were uttered softly, the man clearly attempting to clear the air and, at least, discover what sort of effect this would have on his relationship. That singular inquiry was perhaps far more important to him than all the other things he so often simply omitted.

Those questions that followed, however, were perhaps not entirely unexpected. After all, Dorian so often sought to understand the minute details of everything in life, it was not peculiar that he might too wish to do so with those facets of his life. "I think we might need that Gin first..." He muttered softly, rising to leave his lover with that teapot as he moved towards those higher cabinets, attempting to answer those questions whilst he did so. "It's not...everything she says. She has a way of just..commanding. It's like a power she can draw on - it's the connection I have with her. It exists between all children and their sires but I do not think it was intended to be used as she uses it." Those glass tumblers were placed upon the center island as opened that small fridge that contained his numerous bottles of alcohol. He shifted through them, searching for one in particular. "I believe it was a more...evolutionary aspect to help control the newly made. We become....overwhelmed with that thirst. It's the only thing that matters to us for a while and that bond, and those commands, help to control the new ones so they might last long enough to gain their own control. Most of those who lose their maker too soon or whose makers abandon them never learn it. Most of them are hunted down and killed." He plucked that desired bottle from the depths, pouring the liquid into those glasses before following it with several other flavored wines from the depths of that fridge. "I suppose you can fight it...in a way...but it hurts to do so."

He made his way back towards the King, handing him that first glass with its amber colored liquid. "It's called a Negroni. It's Italian. I thought you might enjoy trying what your people have done with my people's favorite alcohol." Not to mention how desperately he too desired that drink to lessen the stresses of the evening. He could only hope that there were not any other surprises for the vampire to come across. He returned towards that counter, plucking a rag from that rack upon the stove as he begun to wipe those water spills from that mess if only for something to do with his hands - for something to do in spite of those nerves that had settled within his stomach at finally coming clean about that story that had so caused such difficulty between himself and his boyfriend's roommate. "As for Samantha, I fear you're right. It was Anna-Marie that she met. She realized that night what she was to me. We'd met in town several times before." He sighed, finding this whole tale particularly difficult if only for that emotional attachment he knew Dorian held for the girl, even if she was no longer in the city. "Anna-Marie believes that I am not a real vampire - that I have not learned how to properly be one, I mean. She thinks my feeding techniques are...inadequate. Samantha was her effort to fix me." The vampire fell quiet, suddenly quite intent upon that spill of water on the stove. He was hardly insecure about the methods he so employed to eat, nor did he waver on his morality to avoid killing, and yet, for some reason, he found himself struck with some peculiar emotion at voicing all that he'd been dealing with during that time he was courting the Fae King and all those struggles he'd tried so desperately to keep from the man he cherished so greatly.