Chapter Text
Owen stares at the group of vampires that surrounds him.
Drift and Shelby were happily chatting with each other. Their faces were as animated and lively as two undead creatures were. Cleo had her arms crossed, humming her answers and occasionally responding in shorter sentences. Avid's loud and obnoxious voice was practically screeching something incomprehensible to Shelby as she nodded her head so fast she could break her neck.
Pyro was writing in his journal at the table. Whatever he was writing about, Owen had no clue. The scholar seemed peaceful at least. As much as the childe could be when around his sire.
Owens' eyes traveled over to Scott.
Scott's eyes were twinkling as he took a sip from his bottle of blood. He sat at the head of the table with one leg crossed over the other. His smile was polite with no tell of fangs in sight. Outfit was perfectly put together with not a detail out of place. He looked perfectly fake.
Scott's red eyes flicked over to Owen as if sensing that his attention had fallen onto him.
Owen grimaced and stood up from the table. If they weren't going to be productive then he was going to leave and get something done so he wasn't wasting away the day.
As Owen walked he glared at the trees all around him. The shadows cast from their tall branches protected him from the scorching sun. He diverged from the path into the foliage and hunted. He hunted and hunted. Filling up a bottle full of blood then another and another. The sun moved in the sky but Owen paid no attention to the passing of time. Eventually, when his anger waned, he sat himself down on a fallen log and stared ahead.
He can taste the end over the horizon. There were so many vampires that it outmatched the remaining humans. They were doomed. Scott needed to stop turning them and eventually the elder was convinced. The humans were going to die one way or another and he was anxiously waiting.
There was a rustle beside him and Owen spooked. He turned his head to see Scott emerge from the shadows. He approached Owen slowly.
“Hello Scott,” Owen mumbled. He hadn't particularly wanted to see the elder vampire.
Scott smiled a smile that stretched too wide and with too many teeth. “Good evening Owen, have you put your hunger to rest for the evening?”
Owen huffed. “You know vampires are always hungry.”
Owen flicked his cape backwards and took a seat beside Owen on the log. He sat properly. His back was straight and his hands were folded neatly in his lap. Owen looked at the rotting log underneath the noble and raised a brow at the elder.
“Not afraid of getting your clothes dirty?”
Scott looked at his cape and pinched the fabric with disinterest. “Oh please, I don't fear a little dirt every now and then.”
Owen scoffed. Scott would say anything to get what he wants. A couple weeks ago he claimed that he didn't want to get his expensive coat dirty and made Pyro build in his stead the entire day. He has been wearing the same cloak this entire time. And now Scott didn't mind getting it a little dirty? For what? What was his goal?
“Did you think I wouldn't notice you leaving our meeting earlier today?” Scott tilted his head looking down at him. Despite being shorter than him he couldn't help but feel that Scott is looking down at him.
“No, I'm sure you noticed,” Owen looked away from the elder and back at the ground. “Just that you wouldn't care.”
“Hmmm,” Scott hummed.
What did that even mean?
“I think you had missed out on the most interesting discussion.” Scot grabs one of the many bottles of blood Owen had sat down by his feet and popped open the lid with his claws. Owen couldn't find the energy to be upset about stolen food.
“Oh?” Owen tried to entertain. Really, Owen mostly wants to curl back up in his grave more by the second.
“All the little bats were talking about their plans once we bring this barrier down. Drift was telling me that there was this new invention called a train. I'm intrigued. What does it run on if not horses? I do think I want to find out.”
Owen scowled. What did it matter anyway?
Scott took a sip from his bottle and crossed one leg over the other. “They were curious about you, you know.”
Owens' face scrunched up in confusion.
“They had asked me if you had any plans once we escaped this prison. I had to tell them that I haven't the faintest idea of what you want outside the massacre of this town. I didn't want to have to tell Shelby that I believe you don't have any plans after this. None she would approve of, of course.” He took another sip
He needs a drink. Owen grabbed a bottle from his collection. He ripped the cork off with his teeth and took a swig from the bottle. He sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
“I don't know what you're implying, Scott.” Owen said through clenched teeth.
“Yes you do, Owen. You may be dense but you're not dumb.”
“Oh fuck off!”
Owen snarled and leaped from his seat on the log he turned back toward Scott who didn't even move an inch from Owen sudden outburst.
The shadows from the trees were distorting and twisting Scott's features. Owen still recognized the flamboyant outfit and the flashy white hair but everything else seemed too monstrous. His teeth looked longer than they were moments ago and his eyes shined through the darkness. He keeps forgetting that Scott is his elder. Owen didn't want to die by pissing off an elder.
“Owen, please have a seat.” Scott gestured towards the seat beside him. Even his claws looked sharper than usual, he shivered.
Anger and spite was a powerful thing. Owen made sure he stood tall and firm in his defiance. “No, I think I'm more comfortable standing.”
Scott sighed and pinched his nose. Owen feels a little bit of gratification at seeing him like that.
“Jesus Owen. With the way you're acting you think I'm going to kill you where you stand.” Then the bright blood red eyes shined like beacons through the darkness. “If I was going to kill you I wouldn't do so without an audience. It defeats the whole purpose, no?”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to be comforting?’
Instead of getting a reply, Scott just smiles. “So what is your plan?”
Owen blinked momentarily confused by the derailing of the conversation. “Plan?”
Scott tilted his head as his smile strained. “You know I don't like to repeat myself.”
Owen kicked at the ground. Why would he need a plan for after? He was going to kill the humans, burn their homes down to the ground, and go die in a hole. What better plan is there?
“Why did you even stay? After your sire had died you could have gone anywhere in the world. I don't get it. You hated this place. You slaughtered them, set them ablaze. And yet, you're still here, guarding the ruins of an old story.” Scoot took a sip from his bottle and balanced it perfectly on the log beside him, hand returning to sit perfectly in his lap.
Owen knew the reason. He couldn't leave Louis. How could he? Louis was everything. Owen was dragged from the darkness of the forest to a cozy office where they would talk and talk for weeks. For the first time he wasn't a freak. A disease that couldn't be cured. Louis saved him from his horrid human life and then was torn from him before he could even begin eternity with him. Owen didn't want to leave his love.
Owen looked over to the direction of town as if he could always instinctively find his way back.
Scott stood up from the log and dusted himself off as if he was filthy for being in contact with his seat for far too long.
“Is it because your sire died here? Truly a sob story, really.”
Owen growled.
Scott raised his hands up like he was in surrender. “Woah! Did I insult your sire? My apologies. We mustn't speak ill of the dead.”
Owen was fed up with Scott's eccentricities. He has been for weeks.
Scott approached him leaving the shadows and into the light of the slowly rising moon. The shadows pulled away from the man reluctantly and what stood before him now resembled more of a man than the monster that Owen's overactive mind was making up.
Owen looked over the man before and for once he was seeing cracks in his facade. Scott looked tired and starved. Amongst his perfect complexion were the tells of a man who hasn't eaten in a long time. His hair wasn't as perfect as Owen led himself to believe and he was missing a lot of accessories that he was usually wearing.
“Don't you dare mention Louis,” he hissed at the elder.
Scott didn't flinch. If anything he looked amused at Owens' open display of hostility, the bastard.
“Alright alright. I wasn't trying to ruffle your feathers.”
Owen sneered.
Scott crossed his arms delicately. “From the things I have heard about you, Owen, you cared a lot for your sire. A loss like that seers deep.”
Owen scoffed, “Like you would know anything about that type of loss.”
Scott sniffed. “You're right. I didn't know the person who sired me. They could be long dead in a ditch somewhere and I couldn't care less. But for family? I know a lot about losing someone dear to you.’
Owen laughed, it wasn't kind. “Yeah sure. I don't believe there is a single loving bone in your body, Scott.”
Scott looked away from him. There wasn't any emotion on his face, Scott was too good for that, but what was he hiding underneath that mask?
“I had a family once. It was so long ago, way longer than I have been asleep for. This land didn't used to be like this. There wasn't a town named Oakhurst. There wasn't much civilization to begin with. It had a strange aura. It called to supernatural beings from all over the world to meet.”
Owen frowned as he listened to Scott's tale. It was a bit stunted as if it was difficult for him to tell it in English. The words were screwed and crooked but it was strung together in a way that Owen could still understand. Oakhurst was cursed, that he knew.
“What do you mean by supernatural being? Vampires?” Owen questioned.
Scott chuckled as if Owen had told a joke. “Not just vampires, Owen. Werewolves, Fae, Zombies, Avians. There was so much diversity back then.”
Owen was looking at Scott as if he lost his head. He cracks jokes about werewolves but he knows they don't hunt in these woods. The worst monster this land has seen is standing right in front of him.
“Are you joking? They don't exist.”
Scott placed his hand on his hip with a raised eyebrow that made it seem like he was just barely tolerating Owen disrupting him. “Not so much anymore, no. Humans often hunt what they can't understand. Those who are still alive today are most likely hiding in the darkest edges of the world.”
Scoot let out a self deprecating laugh that Owen had never heard come from his mouth. “I have no idea what I was thinking back then. A human playing games with such beasts? It was no wonder I hadn't gotten hurt sooner!’
“Hurt?” Owen questioned.
His voice seemed to drag Scott out of his reminiscing state. He blinked and looked around as if reminding himself where he was. A bittersweet smile was still on his face. “Oh it's nothing to worry about Owen. I'm just feeling nostalgic.”
Owen wanted to pry but he knew Scott had sealed himself up again. Who could be sure when the next time he would let that part of himself out.
“I think… When this is over I’m going to rebuild the town.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
Scott looked around almost aimlessly. “Would you want to help me?”
“Rebuild that town? That place has never done anyone good. It deserves to be burned to the ground. Maybe finally there might be some peace to these cursed lands.
“You said your sire was the mayor of Oakhurst when he was alive, correct?" Scott mused.
“Yes,” Owen said shortly, not really knowing where Scott was going with this.
“I think it might be something worth thinking about even if you do decide to go on your own. I'll be here for probably a few decades. It takes a while to set up a town if I recall. It would be nice to have some company during that time, even if the company is you.” With that Scott's body scatters dozens of bats flying from the source and leaving Owen alone with his thoughts.
Louis had loved that town. He had loved it with all of his heart that he had died for it. Owen had destroyed them because of what they had done to Louis, the kind man who had done everything for them.
Maybe what Scott has said had some merit. He has a lot to think about these days, what's one more?