Cat's MCYT Sideblog

Owen scowls, which isn't particularly noteworthy, since he's been scowling since he dragged the cadaver into the castle. "It's not like you intended to keep the truce," he mutters.

"Sneaky. We were meant to be sneaky about it," Scott says. "Not whatever weird three-day waiting time your bloodline has going on!"

Owen proffers a perfunctory growl at the insult, but it's somewhat distracted by the very deceased elephant in the room.

"Maybe the humans won't notice–" Pyro says.

"Of course they'll notice," drawls Scott. "What, do you think they'll somehow miss that their doctor has taken a weekend sabbatical? Congrats, Owen, I hope your temper tantrum was worth it."

"He started it."

"Let's just drop him down one of the crypts," Pyro says. "He's human. Old. It's not so unlikely that he missed his step and broke his neck."

"The beacons bring the humans back when they die, idiot," Owen retorts. "If you could try to keep up at the back there, that'd be great."

"Do the..." Shelby falters, but already there is a strange tone in her voice, like she's sidling up to an idea and trying not to spook it. "Does town actually know he's dead?"

"I hardly killed him in the town square."

Scott hums. "You two do seem to keep vanishing off together."

"Only," and Shelby definitely sounds like she's sneaking up on the Lesser Spotted Questionable Idea with the world's biggest net, "we could just... keep it from them. That he's dead." She registers the expressions of polite skepticism, and barrels on. "I mean, I know he's dead, but he's not, like, dead-dead. He's not going to decompose. I read it in a book once, where there's these two guys, and their boss invites them to his home, only it turns out he's hired a hitman to take them out, and–"

Shelby realises she's losing her audience.

"Anyway, it worked out for them, and they weren't even dealing with a supernatural corpse."

There's a belated pause.

The doctor remains so very, very dead.

"Humans can't even hear heartbeats," Scott says, after a long moment.

"Oh, you cannot be thinking about actually trying it," Owen snaps.

"Then perhaps you should've tried thinking before turning the good doctor," Scott replies, dangerously pleasantly. "Be thankful we're willing to clean up your mess. Now, you and Shelby can escort our guest back to town, and make sure he, ah, settles in okay."

Owen makes no attempt to hide his displeasure. "Why us?"

"Well, I can hardly show my face about town," Scott says innocently, "and Pyro seems to make the mortals uneasy, although I can't imagine why."

Pyro makes a face that's clearly aiming for disgruntled distaste of the humans, but landing closer in embarrassed territory. The whiteless eyes do little to buffer the expression.

"But they appear fond of Shelby," and Scott's voice softens, betraying the sentiment isn't town-specific, "and as for you... well, it's known the doctor has – well, had – a soft spot for you. I'm sure you can convince the townsfolk you're staying only out of mutual concern."

Owen is less sure.

There is a note in Scott's voice, however, that brooks no arguement. And thus, he later finds himself hauling the dead weight of the doctor, alone, while Shelby skips alongside him.

He's even less sure he wants to try.

"And you killed him," Scott finishes, in that same perfectly amicable tone.

"You could help, you know."

"But we need to convince the town that you care," Shelby says, eyes wide and almost managing to sound wholly sincere. "Anyway, he's too tall for me to support his other shoulder. I'd drag him the whole way."

Owen eyes Shelby. Scott has mentioned, in that off-handed, understated way of his, the nature of the literature she gravitates to. He wonders, warily, if she's planning on drawing inspiration from real life.

"Don't make this... weird."

Shelby blinks innocently. "I'm not."

"I'm only doing this to avoid the truce being broken."

"Right."

"I don't care about the doc."

He should have gone straight to the Castle, when he had seen the scorched ruins that had once been Oakhurst. But there had been voices, and he had been drawn in by them. That was how he ended up stuck socialising, blending in with a mismatched collection of strangers who had all arrived at the ruined town at the same time, for different purposes. An odd occurrence, certainly, but Legundo had more important things to concern himself with. So he smiled, and introduced himself, and answered questions, as all the others were doing. He withheld a grimace as a loud, young person just about threw a handful of garlic bulbs at him — he hadn't expected to have to deny the existence of vampires so suddenly upon arrival — and offered assistance to a quiet, also young noble who claimed to have been abandoned by his family. And the whole time, he waited. He just needed a moment to slip away, and get up to the Castle, and then he could be gone. But every time there was a break in conversation, every moment he thought he had an opportunity, someone else pulled him into their discussion and he was trapped once more.

(And he couldn't help but note that the young man in the butler uniform seemed to be in the background of every conversation Legundo was dragged into).

He thought he might finally have an opportunity, when he noticed the butler was being distracted by the garlic-thrower and the farmer, but just as he was about to slip away he heard a voice that would have made his heart stop if it had been beating at all.

"Well isn't this a sight for sore eyes?"

Venom filled Legundo's mouth. It took all of his centuries of practicing self control to stop the vicious snarl that wanted to rise in his throat.

He was supposed to be dead.

"Oh, do you two know each other?" another voice asked brightly, as Legundo turned slowly to face the approaching figures.

Beside the young girl with the too-big glasses, was the man who could have been Legundo's redemption, but had become his ruin.

Goldsmith was smiling ethereally, his eyes on Legundo filled with he same hunger he had always watched him with. His bright, teal eyes. Not red. And his hair, that had once been so devoid of colour it had glistened like starlight, was a shocking, unnatural blue. Every sign of Goldsmith's immense power was stripped away from him.

He wasn't dead.

But he wasn't fucking far from it.

Legundo wondered if the idiot with the garlic might have a stake.

"Stay the fuck away from me," he hissed, when Scott made to step towards him.

That certainly changed the mood amongst the others, who had begun to gather around when they heard the red headed girl's question. Legundo saw someone shift closer out the corner of his eye, and was not surprised to see it was the butler. (Though he wasn't sure why a butler would need so many concealed weapons).

His fury, as always, did not deter Scott. He smiled wider, and pressed a hand gratefully to his own chest, like Legundo had offered him a compliment.

"Missed me that much, did you, my dear?" he said sweetly.

Legundo was going to kill him.

"I'm leaving," he snapped back, and turned on his heel. Scott would try to stop him, he was sure, but if he didn't leave then, there would be bloodshed. So he strode out the ruins of the town gates, at a speed he didn't normally let himself reach in sight of humans.

Scott did not follow him.

It was only when Legundo all but slammed into an invisible wall deep in the forest that he realised why.

The furious scream he let out startled the crows from the trees around him.

He was trapped in Oakhurst.

Abolish was well educated on sire and fledgling bonds. He had read most of the organization's available text on the subject and had discussed the topic with numerous colleagues in his time working in the field. He had seen bonds take hold (both consensually and forcefully) and he had seen bonds sever. On one instance in particular, he had lost a partner when their connection to their sire was broken unexpectedly during a dicey encounter with a coven of enemy vampires — their temporary pain paralysis had left an opening for the enemy to rush in and finish them off with a stake before Abolish could interfere.

The point was, Abolish thought he knew the risks associated with agreeing to become Legundo's fledgling.

He was wrong.

Abolish sits at the base of the town's central tower, mere yards away from where the holy beacon pulses — its harsh waves grating against Abolish's senses. He could step away — move himself just outside of its range of influence, closer to where the remaining vampires and Pearl are conversing.

But he doesn't.

If he doesn't have the persistent scratching of the beacon's power to focus on, he will be forced to pay attention to a far more unsettling feeling. Hesitation. Doubt.

Is this right?

Abolish had always prided himself in his ability to make difficult decisions quickly, and accept whatever consequences followed with grace. He knew how to calculate outcomes, prioritize logic, and mitigate risk — he was good at it. He got the impression the doctor was similar (ignoring the obvious blind spots that were his own self preservation and Owen, of course). Even though years working with patients away from a military conflict had certainly softened Legundo, Abolish could still make out the shadow of the soldier he once was.

So when Legundo had turned him and the connection between the two of them fused into place, the emotional flood that poured from the bond had surprised and nearly drowned Abolish.

There was so much fatigue.

There was so much self hatred.

There was so much regret.

It was the regret more than anything else that had truly shaken Abolish. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and it had taken every ounce of self discipline to not react.

Legundo had noticed his distress, of course. Abolish was too inexperienced and too overwhelmed to possibly attempt to hide anything from his new sire. The emotions rushing down the bond had slowed, and the Doc had planted his hands on Abolish's shoulders until the fledgling could stand without swaying.

"You're going to be okay, I've got you," the Doc had said, repeating similar phrases until Abolish's primary emotion had shifted to one of annoyance. The Doc had smiled, sensing the change, and finished bandaging up his arm (Abolish had not reminded him that it wasn't needed — the bite wound would heal into a scar in a few minutes).

Then Martyn and Ren had died, and the wave of painful emotions returned.

It had taken longer for Legundo to recover after that. In his defense he had tried prioritizing keeping as much away from Abolish as possible; however, it wasn't enough to stop Abolish's mind from feeding off the foreign thoughts.

Am I being selfish?

"Abolish, be careful. Be good," the Doc had said, just before he took Cleo's hand and left the town.

Is this good?

Abolish stands abruptly and walks into the tower, closing the door behind him. He doesn't want to be near the others when it happens. This deserves respect. It deserves privacy.

And it wouldn't be necessary if you weren't afraid.

He had been offered vampirism before. Multiple times, in fact (some in more nefarious contexts than others). He always had the same response: too much paperwork. It generally got a laugh, and allowed the conversation to move on. It was a logical answer. One most people expected from Abolish.

It was also a lie.

Yes — there are good vampires, and there are bad vampires. Yes — there are good people, and there are bad people. Yes — being a vampire doesn't inherently make you a bad person. Yes — many of the most important people in Abolish's life are vampires. He knows all of this. He truly believes all of this.

… And yet.

There is a small part of Abolish's psyche buried deep — so incredibly deep — that was locked away years ago when he was taken in by the man (the vampire) who would become the closest thing Abolish has to a family. It contains the memories of a child who learned the fate of his parents — the knowledge that the thing that killed them was a creature of the night. A creature that, up until that point, had only existed in horror stories and fairy tales.

A child that asked, "how can I become the monster that killed my family?"

It is illogical. Abolish knows this. Up until now, he had gone out of his way to make sure he never needed to confront that small part of him still driven by emotion.

But now a man, a good man, is going to die for it.

Abolish sits on the staircase, staring into the pulsing light of the beacon. Perhaps the power making his skin crawl has nothing to do with the vampirism at all. Perhaps it can sense his hesitation. His guilt.

And yet, he can't bring himself to do anything but wait.

When Legundo dies, Abolish does not allow himself to cry out. He does not allow himself to seek comfort. He does not allow himself to flinch. The pain is penance for letting his fear control him.