How utterly wonderful it was to be within the presence of such pleasant art! Dorian, for several long moments, remained nothing short of oblivious to the rather stunned, violet eyed woman who seemed unable to ascertain which course of action was best to take when it came to those royal intruders. Indeed, the Monarch was far more taken with eyeing those floral designs that adorned the walls of the tattoo parlor. Such art was so very...free and open and entirely unique in every sense. Those flowers were by far his most favored and yet that side of the wall so readily contained animals and birds and symbols all equally masterful in their unique designs. It was his very wonderment of that art that so seemed to prompt the Fae King to remember, at last, the young woman whose shop this surely was. Dorian's head turned towards her, his silver gaze meeting the violet of her own as a warm and genuine smile touched his lips. Dorian's hand lifted to gesture towards that floral art with the insistence he found it terribly lovely. The young woman's striking gaze shifted toward the wall a moment before insisting that work was indeed her own and that if he fancied those flowers so terribly much that he would have surely adored the 'tramp stamp' of sunflowers she had done upon a client some weeks ago. Dorian's features so readily shifted into a look of confusion.

"I am unfamiliar with this 'tramp stamp'."

Perhaps it was some sort of....artistic medium? Perhaps this young woman designed stamps only to...tattoo them upon people. Dorian's gaze shifted near expectantly toward Lucas who had remained within the room to watch over his King. The security guard so readily nodded. "A 'tramp stamp', Your Majesty, refers to a tattoo placed upon a womens lower back. It is a somewhat slang term. Tattoos in such a place on women are often cliched or somewhat frowned upon in society for it implies a woman is common." Dorian's eyes rose in veritable surprise before his attention returned to the young woman beside him once more.

"Thank you but I think I should refrain from viewing any such things."

Dorian's head nodded softly in turn. The Monarch, it seemed, so very near fearing a shirtless woman might yet appear from within the depths of that store. How utterly improper such a thing would be! It was that very look of confusion upon the dark-haired woman's features, however, that prompted the Fae King to offer that further explanation of his presence. One that seemed to coax forward the woman's own questions as she enquired after his security detail. Dorian's head nodding softly in confirmation.

"Yes, they accompany me everywhere. I am not often given the opportunity to make friends however. I am here rather secretly today. On most occasions though there are far too many people for me to truly engage in conversation with anyone."

Dorian's features frowned ever so slightly at the thought of those crowds that so often swelled at his very appearance...anywhere. To be free of the press and crowds and fanfare that so often followed his efforts to do anything was decidedly pleasant. Even mere conversation such as this was a distinctly rare treat for the king. One he did not intend to waste as his head shook softly at her query upon his own desire for a tattoo.

"No. I am not permitted to wear tattoo's. My security staff, however, are not forbidden from such things.Though I should think anything too visible would be frowned upon. I should not stop them if they desire it though."

Dorian, it seemed, was wholly immune to the woman's sarcasm. The Monarch, instead, offering those entirely serious answers to the questions she posed before he sought to offer her the chance to view his own scrapbook. Even if he deemed his efforts at art for the day to have been 'unsuccessful'. The pencil sketches within that book were very near flawless. The Fae King, after all, had honed that drawing talent over six hundred years. Those sketches of people and everyday life held a distinct look so unique to the Monarch himself. Those people, however, were so continuously surrounded by light. In all different shades. Even when the rest of the artwork remained black and white. The young woman strode closer in that moment,her hand reaching forward to touch that sketchbook. That very gesture seemed to prompt several of the guards to shift before Dorian's own hand waved away their concern. The woman's gaze roved over that scene he had drawn that very afternoon before declaring that the artwork was hardly 'unsuccessful' in any sense. Indeed, she insisted that art was pretty good. Her praise prompted a warm simper to the Monarch's features before she asked after that color that surrounded the figures in his drawing.

"Thank you. I enjoy drawing scenes I see on the streets. I rarely get a chance to do so however. Oh, those colors are people's....souls, if you will. I am gifted to see the auras of people, when I choose to. There is no being upon this earth who has an aura like any other. I enjoy drawing them very much. My book has many individual portraits of people and auras. You may look if you desire."
Dorian moved to offer the young woman that sketchbook itself then, allowing her to flip through its pages if she chose. Those street scenes were few and far between. The vast majority of that book was dedicated to drawings of animals or flowers and yet- a greatdeal, in turn, focused upon singular portraits. One person per page. Some were merely head and shoulders, others full body drawings. Moments in time captured so perfectly uponpaper. Each being wore a different expression, their features captured with flawless accuracy and yet- each person was surrounded by a burst of color unlike any other. Dorian's gaze glanced down at those pages as the young woman carefully turned each one.

"That is my Butler and that is our Housekeeper, that is the gardener and that is Lucas- my head of security."

Dorian moved to gesture to the very man himself who stood within that room. Lucas, in that moment, stood a little straighter with clear pride at having that drawing of himself examined.

"That is my PA, that is my husband, oh and that is my Father. There are many more drawings, my brother is in there somewhere and several more of my staff and some of my friends. I fear though that not all of my drawings are complete. Some people possess auras that are....very difficult to read. My grandfather was very challenging- so was my Father. I still have not managed to capture them accurately."

Dorian frowned as he pointed to that drawing of Matteo that the young woman seemed to focus upon. The French Fae had been drawn within his home in Chambord. His figure clad in jeans and a t-shirt, his arms crossed over his chest, one leg lazily folded and he lent back agianst the open window of his bedroom- his own silver gaze staring almost lazily out the window. His lips lifted ever so slightly in the beginnings of a smile as those sheer french curtains moved softly in the breeze. Those colors that surrounded him however were.....intense. Gold and blue and red and black seem to swirl about his figure. White too, seemed to be inlaid within that gold. A color absent from the auras of so many others. Dorian's own attention, however, had strayed from his sketchbook to return to the woman's own wall of tattoo art. His head nodded at her query of his name.

"Yes, you may call me Dorian if you desire- no my security will not attempt to, how you say, jump at you. I should like to ask what it is that gives you inspiration. Your art is very varied. You have flowers and animals and symbols and fire and water and what appears to be a flaming skull being consumed by a serpent. Do you merely design what other people request of you or are these from your own imagination?"

Dorian Aragona