Sebastian Ellington-Aragona

His Royal Highness, Prince of Italy

An undeniable hint of worry beset the Englishman at the prospect of having his maker run rampant through his estate. Though the home was largely empty now, he still found himself fearing each time she returned that it would not be. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the last time that Dorian had met the young child. It was that concern that so prompted the man to follow after the girl as she hurried ahead of him through the hallway, peeking into various rooms only to glance behind her at him before darting ahead all over again. He had little notion of those thoughts they toyed with her own mind, much less the fear that he was somehow capable of seeing that immediate sleep beset her. Though to some degree, he had some aptitude over those sleep-inducing pheromones, it was hardly with the same proficiency that Dorian had, quite simply, stolen the young girl's life. A frown crossed the man's features as the child peeled off of her hunt into a room Sebastian knew all too well - his husband's studio. How he abhorred the thought of any of those canvases getting ruined! That very worry surely sent his heart aflutter as he rushed behind her into Dorian's workspace.

He trailed behind his maker as Anna-Marie slowly made her way around the periphery of the room, her bright eyes taking in the plethora of colors upon those canvases. Her inquiry, however, saw the vampire shake his head ever so slightly. "No, they are all Dorian's." He responded simply and yet, even he had to admit that, despite how many times he saw his lover's artwork, he still as astounded by each piece. The intricacy, the level of detail - all of it was nothing short of utterly exquisite. Anna-Marie's sudden question of painting however, only caused his worry to birth anew. "I thought we were working on your invitations?" He inquired, watching as she reached for one of those expensive tubes of oil paint. Sebastian could hardly help the way in which he flinched as that tube of color was squirted all over one of those fresh white canvases. A soft sigh left his lips as he leaned forward to take the canvas that Anna-Marie had declared as his own. "Thank you, Ma Petite." He responded and yet, he regarded that blank canvas with an equally as blank look. Art, after all, had been a woman's activity within his own day and age. In turn, Sebastian had never truly...painted before. The white canvas almost daunting. "What are you going to paint, Anna-Marie?" He inquired, almost curious to see if he could escape that arts and craft's project by some feigned effort to dote on the young girl instead.