Lenne smiled a little at him. "I think, he is what's tugging at your heart, Dorian." She whispered and then started putting a bandage over his wound. "You cannot stay here very long. You must escape this."

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Siggy set made by the amazing Lembas!

Kael's head lifted to hear Lenne's words, that sweet, innocent laugh. She reminded him of someone...only slightly, although it was enough to rattle his cage...
Odd, that.
How everything traced back to her, and as soon as it did, he would doubt.

That flickering flame seemed to bring him back to solidity, before he slid his way past Rhavaniel, patting her on the head patronisingly before he slinked toward the room.
He wanted to catch that candle in his hands, put it out with a clap. Just for the love of power.
That...and apparently, Dorian needed his company. He would never get those wounds healed with a simple binding....they would bleed forever until he accepted his own destinies.

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"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde

Dorian stared at Lenne, his face confused. As he saw Kael approach his dark eyes became helpless and his scarlet lips parted in childish dependence. His body trembled softly and a shiver ran down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

Lenne sighed and stood in front of Dorian, as if standing up for him. She glared at Kael and looked him in the eye. "Dorian isn't allowed to speak to anyone at the moment." She hissed at him.

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Siggy set made by the amazing Lembas!

His eyes large and naïve, he watched Lenne and Kael. His heart being torn in two… what instinct should he trust? Kael was his master… he kept him alive… But Lenne made sense… And that made him terrified.

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

Kael's smile remained, a finger playing at the very corner of his lips as he glanced to Lenne beneath heavy lashes and dark liner.
He leant in close before stepping through the door and wandering over to the table.
Licking his fingers, he extinguished the candle with a hiss.
"I might talk to my apprentice when I wish to, girl...with or without your consent."

He smiled at her sweetly, leaning down close.
"In fact..it should be you asking my permission, but I'll let you off for now, darling."

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"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde

Dorian jumped slightly as Kael extinguished the flame. He looked up at him, his eyes resuming to a deep crimson, his hands trembling. His lips, still parted softly, did not issue a word.

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

His sharp eyes turned on Dorian, glowing an eery blue in the half-light before he bent close, a hand shooting down to the other man's chest, pinning him to the bed completely.

In a soft, deadly voice he spoke.

"Apparently...you don't quite get it, love." he hissed between those sharp teeth.

"You belong to me, you are bound to me by blood ties...you cannot run away from me, even if you try - because I will -always- find you."

His words were livid, nearing anger now. The sardonic smirk was fading, disappearing.
How dare Dorian long to be rid of him, although still he commanded that awe, that admiration...that sinful longing.

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"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde

Dorian’s eyes widened in fear “Kael… I did not say that…” his breath seemed to catch in his throat. His face wore a look of pleading, only to mask the aching longing that resided in his soul…
“I told you… I cannot live without you… You guide me… You lead.. I shall follow… I cannot escape. You found me here didn’t you?”

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

" I found you, yes." he repeated, nails digging into the pale skin as Dorian's breath refused to release, leaving him gasping.
Blood trickled from the other's pressure, staining pale skin and spreading across the covers.
"I guide, you follow...got it?" he snapped coldly.

The boy was beginning to get on his nerves.

"You might not have a master, but I'm the closest that you will get to one, boy..."

His smile flickered back again before he leant closer again, again just a millimetre from Dorian's lips.
"So take your time to enjoy it."

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"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde

Dorian’s scarlet lips parted softly and a gasp escaped him.
“Kael… I do not want to escape…” his eyes burned a beautiful crimson again, and flickered momentarily over the blood on the sheets, then darted back to Kael.

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

Dark continues to watch, now very amused by this "Kael's" feelings and thoughts of superiority. She finally decided to speak up. "You there, boy who wears to much makeup. I suggest you stop being a nuisance and step away. You might get a silvertipped wooden stake driven through your back if you dont."

The blood seeping over the sheets was Dorian's, even as a vampire he could only lose so much...and right now, his body was refusing to heal.
Apparently, he was refusing his own blood; he needed to feed from a human instead.

"Ah...good, good."
He pulled his hand away, letting Dorian breathe, although also letting the blood spill. It had soaked the man's shirt, and the white covers...
He had to heal soon..somehow. And from Kael's words, the only way to do that was to feed...

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"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde

Dorian glared at the newcomer, his eyes glowing dangerously.
“Did he speak to you? Did you not hear my answer?” he shook violently, confused at his temper being flared at Kael’s expense. He looked at him, then at the blood, not certain what to do.

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

Dark growled, she glared at this other man.She smirked a little as she saw blood on the bed. The sooner this man died, the sooner she could get rid of the "make up man" as she had now decided to call him.

He smirked, turning to face Dark with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't play with fire you can't control." he replied, softly, contemptuously as he released Dorian and turned only his head.

"Ironic, but I believe you're being the nuisance here."

He stated it calmly, but with that air of superiority he often seemed to hold about himself. Vanity...
Confidence.

"After all, he's come around to my point of view.."

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"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde