His confusion at the entire scenario remains firmly intact, the sore place at the base of his skull throbbing in a dull reminder of the injury he had received only moments before, voice evidently failing to gain the attention of any of the gathered peasantry whom seemed to have little regard for anyone save the injured rider. Unless the rider was some sort of nobleman, which given by his attire Dorian highly doubts, he fails to see in what fashion the other man is more deserving of this attention. This entire kingdom was severely in need of correction, the peasants were bordering on utterly untamed, his attention distracted from his own outrage at the situation by the approach of a young woman dressed in an outfit so utterly deplorable he is not entirely sure as to which area of her he best avert his gaze from. Her limbs were entirely exposed along with her midline and much of her shoulders, such an outfit so outrageous for a public setting he is entirely surprised she has not yet been escorted off by the guard or those....police, whatever foolish thing they called themselves. The manner in which he stares towards her with utter disbelief is shattered only by her attempts to actually touch him, Dorian moving to bat her hand away near instantly from his head, the look of bewilderment upon his handsome features still entirely intact.


"I would rather someone of your profession did not touch me and I was not screaming- I was attempting to engage the attention of these narrow-minded imbeciles."


He gestures loosely towards the small crowd of people helping the rider upward, one man turning to offer him a thoroughly offended look that Dorian returns in kind before focusing his attention for the first time, in full, on the girl kneeling beside him. Her mention of his immortality momentarily seeming to distract him from his determination to punish to locals. She knew what he was? Stormy grey eyes narrow almost warily, outside of his immediate family precious few had known of his species. Others of his kind existed, that he knew and yet his dealings with them had been equally as limited by his Father's own desire. It had been embarrassing enough, after all, to have to lay some claim to an illegitimate son- let alone one that held the blood of the Fae, a living, breathing sign of his wife's infidelity with a cursed race. Dorian however, had been entirely assured his 'curse' was the only reason he had survived so long after his parents, siblings and most of his court had perished over the past few years, the young man taking some satisfaction from that- if only in that his current existence continued to spite his long dead father. For now though he has no desire to delve further into her knowledge of his race.


"Your rather comely for a peasant- I suppose."


That his words may be taken in any fashion as insulting by the young woman hardly occurred to him, after all, it is at his discretion a to whether people feel insulted or not, the comment offered with as little care as one might offer a whisper to the wind, her attempts to brush aside his wound met with a snort of derision and little more. What would she know of medicine? She clearly knew nothing about clothing. Grey eyes move to look past her once more, confusion continuing to cloud them, the small knot of panic he refused to allow to overwhelm him still continuing to tighten uncomfortably in his stomach. Where was he?


"Bicycle?"


He offers the word almost helplessly, soft grey gaze returning to the peasant girls own, though her next words prove to be equally as confusing. She was speaking English, of that he was sure and yet so many of the words she offered meant nothing to him.


"I do not know what you are talking about or what this 'movie' is but yes I am from Italy- Naples. I came from Naples as I attempted to tell your guardsman before, those, how you say? Police? They were extremely unsatisfactory. I was kidnapped and attacked by bandits and I recall little after that but I managed to escape them and now I am here in this wretched place. Which kingdom is this? Where is your nearest Manor? I require to speak to someone of authority! Fetch me someone."


One hand waves almost dismissively towards her as if he fully anticipates she will run off to find him someone of authority, even the most lowly of lords would be acceptable today. They, at least, would recognize who he was. Dorian only seeming to become entirely more irate- much of his attitude, surely, driven by the fact he had little idea of where he was, who any of these people where or what exactly was going on. He moved to lean forward, pulling his legs beneath himself with ease before pulling himself upright at last to stand, wiping his bloodied hand upon his pants- assuring his sword was still safe at his side. The girl still seated beside him- having failed to move as she had been told to. Dorian eyeing her critically a moment, sweeping dark hair from his gaze. Was everyone here so poorly trained? Did even a prostitute fail to understand an order? Grey eyes widen suddenly in shock, the young man shifting almost instinctively closer to the girl, the single being he had engaged in any real conversation with, gesturing suddenly towards a boy upon a skateboard as he rolls passed, his own form pulling backwards warily once more as his attention returns back to the 'comely peasant girl'.


"What is that? Do you not fear for you life ever day in this place?"