so why'd you have to rain on my parade?
I'm shaking my head. I'm locking the gates.
Samantha's own distance from Dorian had very little to do with the Italian King himself and very much to do with Samantha's own inability to stay in one place. The heartbreak of events long past had initially forced Samantha into being a wanderer, if only because the sight of a new city every few weeks had drowned out the grief and loneliness that had plagued her after Aiden had (at least she thought) died. But as the years had passed, Samantha's desire for traveling was less based out of a need to escape her own feelings and more an intense desire to see the world. Samantha had always intended to be better about calling Dorian or of sending him postcards. But, entirely unintentionally, Samantha had neglected her friendship with the Italian King. She could only hope, now, that it was not too late to rekindle their friendship. They had once been so close, and Samantha could use that now in the wake of what she was about to face. At the very least, Dorian had accepted their meeting and allowed her access to his home. That had to mean something, right?
As the fae woman was guided through the home by Charles and into the elaborately furnished living room, Samantha was well aware of the anxiety that knotted in her belly. Perhaps just as noticeable to the young woman was the flicker of power that seemed to surge from her stomach. The young woman often noticed the energy that existed within her now, a power that belonged not quite to her, but to her unborn child. "Thank you, Charles," Samantha said politely to the manservant, offering him a smile that hardly felt genuine in her current state of anxiety. Though the man gestured to the couch, Samantha didn't take residence there. Instead, the girl paced the small area in front of the couch, her fingers risen to her mouth. She'd nearly broken that nasty habit of chewing on her fingernails, but ever since she'd found out about the pregnancy, it had come back in full force. Dorian was sure to chastise her for the eyesore that was her unmanicured fingernails.
It was not only the broken state of her fingernails that the pregnancy was responsible for. It had been some time since Samantha had been unable to control her powers. When she had first come to Sacrosanct, there were times when they had been a mess, but she had come so far since then. She wasn't sure if it was due to the hormones or the child itself, but her affinities seemed heightened as of late; certainly, they were more difficult to manage. With her current unease, Samantha was both unaware and unable to control the surge of her own power within the room. Dark shadows slid across the floor at her feet like clouds. The thick tendrils curled around her ankles, worming their way up her shins and circling around her wrists. The shadows were unnoticeable on her skin, just as she was unaware of the Italian Prince joining her. She didn't quite notice him calling out to her, not until he stepped within her line of sight. Samantha jumped slightly, as though she had been startled - and perhaps she had.
At the mention of something amiss, Samantha glanced down. Her lips parted slightly in a soft 'oh' as she examined the dark snakes that ensnared her limbs. As the empath noticed them, they quickly faded from view, leaving behind nothing but a cold sensation on her skin and a trail of goosebumps down her arm. Samantha straightened then, dropping her hands to her side as she stared, nearly open mouthed, at the Italian Prince. After several moments, her mind seemed to catch up with her and the fae woman dropped into a clumsy curtsy. It was, after all, the least she could do to greet the Fae King, though she'd be the first to admit she wasn't sure what the royal protocol was for greeting a King who she had once had to explain electricity to. Perhaps such intricate formalities were not necessary in the wake of their friendship.
But Samantha was hardly given much time to dwell upon that when Dorian spoke, his words quite exactly
what the empath had expected. She knew there was little she could do to hide her pregnancy at this point, nor did she try to hide it. "I..." Samantha gave a sheepish shrug, a small smile growing upon her features as she eyed the Italian King. "I'm afraid I haven't gotten married. But you've caught on to the surprise I had to share with you." Samantha's fingers brushed across her stomach almost lovingly. "Can we talk? I have something I need to ask you."
this is why we can't have nice things