He had long since lost any and all interest in his book for today, the neatly printed words within his native Italian failing to hold his interest as he moved at last to close the book over- resting it upon his chest as he lay back upon his bed. He was vaguely aware of Samantha somewhere downstairs, the woman often content to spend her days off entirely within her evening wear and in front of the moving picture box she fed a constant supply of silver discs too in order to bribe it into playing yet another story. The notion of DVD's still very much outside the ancient Fae's ability to understand. He had tried all the same these past few nights- attempting to engage himself in the story upon the picture box and yet more often than not he simply found it made him irritable, else his stream of questions bothered Samantha and Dorian was forced to retire to his room. Night time, of late, had brought him very little joy. In fact these past two nights it had brought him nothing but worry. After all it had been.....nine days now. Nine. Dorian having taken to counting exactly how many nights it had been since he had last seen his lover- though he surely would not admit to it. He was used to Sebastian waiting a week or so between encounters and yet even this time had begun to shorten between them. Dorian himself having waited barely four days before he had met with his companion during their last encounter and yet this was the ninth day in which he had heard nothing from the vampire.

It was ridiculous, truly, to allow himself to even entertain the emotions that threatened to encompass him- Dorian content to push them down over and over for fear he might be forced to acknowledge them. He was worried even if he refused to fully embrace it- that perhaps Sebastian might not appear again. They had spoken of 'next time' as they always did and as such Dorian had simply allowed himself to believe the man would return once more and yet with each passing night the Fae become only more anxious in his companions absence. How utterly ridiculous it was! He should not allow himself to ever be so afflicted with such emotions- some feelings far more potent stirring beneath and yet for now at least those remained at bay. It had only been nine days after all, perhaps Sebastian was simply busy? Busy with what or who however only seemed to further displease the fairy King with a myriad of thoughts he was loath to consider. It would be all-too easy, he is sure, to find someone else to meet such needs for himself and yet he was unwilling to give up on his companion. At least not yet. He would simply have to wait.

The sudden appearance of Samantha at his door however, demanding he go outside and appreciate the sun he seemed to have forgotten existed at last prompted the man to rise and allow the woman to hustle him outside and into the sunshine. Dorian somehow finding himself upon the beach within the West side of town. He had been told, after all, that the beach was far better visited within the day and yet truly he remains unsure of it. His shoes had been left upon the wall, his jeans rolled up at the ends, the Fae King strolling bare foot atop the sand. He is a decidedly curious creature by nature, his mind for the first time in rather a few days entirely distracted from his lack of lover and instead fixated entirely upon the beach itself. He had taken several moments to compare both wet and dry sand beneath his bare feet, ignoring the curious looks he was afforded by rather a number of beach goers as he moved between them before finding himself before a series of rock pools. The squeals of delight of a group of children brought the eternally youthful man towards them, his own silver gaze peering into the pool the children so seemed to be fascinated by- eyeing the star-shaped rock that seemed to be their focal point.

"Is it not just an obscure rock?"

The child to which he had directed the question merely stared blankly towards him for several moments, Dorian entirely prompted to ask whether or not the boys wet nurse had instructed him on how to speak before the children seemed to scatter in all directions. Dorian is barely given a moment to consider why before he finds himself thoroughly encompassed by a rogue wave- the water drenching him as he is left sitting sodden and spluttering upon the sand. It takes several more moments of spluttering before he brings his hands upwards, wiping the water from his eyes and the droplets away from the blonde tips of his hair. His gaze drops briefly downward, his white cotton shirt entirely damp and his jeans far more sandy then he is sure is appropriate for someone of his status. The laughter of that same group of children earning a pointed look from the age-old Fae. Disrespectful little urchins!

"We are not amused."

Dorian Aragona