ghost birb

The worst part was that Owen made it easy. Not intentionally. Never intentionally. That was what Louis told himself every time he slipped behind Legundo's eyes and found Owen already smiling at him.

At them.

At the body Louis borrowed.

At the voice that wasn't his.

At the hands that weren't his.

At the heartbeat that definitely wasn't his.

Louis had expected possession to feel powerful. Victorious. Like reclaiming something stolen from him by death. Instead, it felt desperate. Hungry. Like pressing his face against the glass of a bakery window and pretending the smell was enough.

So he stayed longer.

And longer.

And longer.

Legundo had agreed. At first. That was the important part. That was the thing Louis reminded himself whenever the doctor's consciousness clawed upward beneath his own.

Legundo had said yes.

Legundo had offered.

Legundo had wanted to help.

The rest was merely... adjustment. A necessary sacrifice.

For Owen.

For them.

The afternoon sunlight poured through the castle windows in golden sheets. Owen sat beside him on the couch, curled up with his knees tucked against his chest.

Comfortable.

Safe.

Louis couldn't stop looking at him. Even now. Even after all this time.

Owen noticed eventually. "What?"

Louis smiled. "Nothing."

Owen rolled his eyes. "You've been staring for ten minutes."

"Can you blame me?"

That earned him a laugh. A real one. The sound struck Louis somewhere deep inside his chest.

God.

He missed this.

Missed Owen.

Missed having him close enough to touch.

Close enough to breathe.

Close enough that Louis could convince himself nothing had changed.

His fingers found Owen's wrist. Gentle. Possessive. Owen let him.

Louis felt Legundo somewhere beneath him. A distant pressure. Like someone trapped underwater, beating weakly against the surface.

Ignore it.

Focus on Owen.

Focus on this.

"You okay?" Owen asked quietly.

Louis nodded. Too quickly. "I'm perfect."

The pressure surged. Suddenly. Violently. His breath caught. The room tilted.

For a split second Louis felt his grip slipping. Like oil through his fingers. Like waking from a dream.

No.

No no no—

A sob ripped from his throat.

Raw.

Broken.

Violent.

Owen jumped. "Legs?"

Another sob followed. Then another. The pressure exploded upward.

Legundo surfaced. Not fully. Never fully. Just enough. Enough to make Louis lose control of the body's face. Enough for tears to spill down their cheeks. Enough for the doctor's terror to flood through muscles that no longer listened to him.

Owen was already moving. Already grabbing his shoulders. "Legs?"

Legundo looked at him. Actually looked at him. For the first time in weeks. Maybe months. Time had become difficult to measure.

His vision blurred. Words jammed in his throat.

Help me.

Owen.

Please.

His mouth opened. Nothing came out except another strangled cry. His hands grabbed Owen's shirt. Desperate. Shaking.

Trying to hold on.

Trying to say something.

Anything.

Owen's face twisted with concern. "Legs, what's wrong?"

The words shattered something inside him. Because Owen genuinely didn't know. Didn't understand. Didn't see.

Louis returned like a slammed door. The body went rigid. The sobs cut off. Silence.

Then a shaky laugh. Weak. Embarrassed. Manufactured.

"Oh god." He covered his face. As if ashamed. As if this had all been accidental.

Owen blinked. Still confused. "Louis?"

"Sorry." A breath. Another. Louis forced moisture into his eyes. Made himself tremble. Not difficult. There was enough genuine emotion for that. "I just..." He laughed again. "I missed you."

Owen's expression softened immediately. Louis knew it would. "I missed you too."

God.

There it was again.

That warmth.

That love.

The thing Louis couldn't live without.

The thing that made all of this worth it.

"I know Legundo's letting me do this," Louis said quietly. "And I know I tell him all the time how grateful I am, but..." His voice cracked. Not entirely fake. "...sometimes it just hits me."

Owen's eyes grew wet. "Oh, Louis."

The vampire pulled him into a hug. Instantly. Without hesitation. Burying his face against Legundo's against Louis's chest.

The sensation nearly made him dizzy. Owen's arms wrapped around him.

Trusting.

Warm.

Safe.

"The doctor is great for doing this."

Louis froze. Only for a second. A tiny second. A second Owen didn't notice. His arms tightened around Owen. Just a little. Enough to feel. Not enough to hurt.

"Great," Louis repeated. The word tasted strange. Sharp. Bitter.

Owen nodded against him. "Yeah."

Louis smiled. A perfect smile. The kind Owen liked. The kind that hid everything. "Yeah."

Great.

That night, Owen went to town. The castle became quiet. Empty. Cold.

Louis hated it. Without Owen around, there was nothing to distract him from the truth. Nothing to distract him from the body.

The borrowed skin.

The mirror.

The eyes staring back.

Legundo's eyes.

Legundo's face.

Legundo's mouth.

Louis stood before the reflection. Studying it. Touching his own cheek. Watching someone else's hand move. He rested his forehead against the glass.

The reflection staring back wasn't his.

It hadn't been for a long time.

Sometimes he struggled to remember his own face.

Owen's hands on Legundo's shoulders.

Owen's smile directed at Legundo's eyes.

Owen burying his face against Legundo's chest.

Memory after memory after memory.

Louis collected them greedily. Kept them. Hoarded them. As though enough stolen moments could make something true.

"You almost told him today." His voice was quiet. Gentle. The sort of voice one used with frightened animals. "I know you did."

His fingers brushed the mirror. Tracing the outline of Legundo's cheek. "You wanted him to look at you." A small smile tugged at his mouth. "But what would that accomplish?"

He imagined Legundo glaring at him from somewhere behind his own eyes.

Angry.

Terrified.

Desperate.

Louis found the image strangely endearing. "Owen's happy." The words came quickly now. Like he was trying to convince someone. Maybe himself. "He's safe. He's smiling again."

His smile widened. "He hugs me." This body, a cruel part of him corrected. Louis ignored it.

"He loves me." The words slipped out before he realized he'd said them. Possessive. Devotional. Wrong. The mirror offered no argument. Louis laughed softly.

"Maybe you don't understand that." Louis tilted his head. "Maybe you never will." His hand flattened against the glass. "But you'll come around."

The certainty in his voice was frightening. Absolute.

"You always do." Another pause. “And if you don't..." Louis's smile softened. Somehow becoming worse. More sincere. "You'll stay anyway."

The room fell silent again. Legundo couldn't answer. Maybe he was screaming. Maybe he was crying. Maybe he had long since stopped doing either.

The thought made Louis smile faintly.

Louis would never know. They couldn't hear each other.

That was the tragedy of it.

The mercy of it.

Louis closed his eyes.

And imagined Owen's arms around him.

Imagined Owen's voice.

Imagined Owen choosing him.

Not the body.

Not the face.

Not the lie.

Just him.

There are a few possibilities, but I want to suggest: He wanted to keep Owen from other vampires for as long as possible.

Now, why would he want that, when vampires are social creatures?

I can see a few reasons. Maybe sires are territorial over new fledglings. Maybe he was unusually territorial.

But.

Modern vampire society is unbalanced and controlling in a way that favors vampires heavily. Humans are treated as nothing more than livestock -- Cleo themself said (in their lore stream) that even their mother's attitude towards humans was 'We have goats at home.'

Louis, meanwhile, tended his town carefully. You could see this as a vampire who preferred to be left alone to manage his...ah. Human ranch. But he didn't even raise a hand to hurt any of his people as they led him to the pyre. He saw Owen's pain and tried to use vampirism to mend it.

I think Louis had some very strong disagreements with the way vampire society treated humans.

And I think Louis knew how prone Owen would be to anti-human extremism. Looking at Owen, it would have been easy to see how easily he could be swayed into thinking of humans as less-than. He'd spent his whole life tormented by them, and then the first vampire he'd ever known had come from nowhere like an angel of mercy with an offer of salvation. Between that and a lifetime without access to the social connections to learn the nuance of social situations...

Cults recruit the desperate and isolated for a reason.

From there, we can go in two directions.

The first is pretty intuitive and familiar: Louis as a cult leader trying to turn Owen into a devoted member of his inner circle. I'm not really going to explore this here, just bringing it up to acknowledge it since it is a very easy read of what I've laid out here.

What I find interesting is the second read:

Louis as a genuinely well-intentioned man who wanted to give Owen a chance at not falling in with the cults and other high-control groups so common among vampires.

With this, we get an interesting double-edged reason for the isolation: keeping Owen sheltered from other points of view is exactly what a cult leader would do. Would he have eventually told Owen the truth? Presumably! He might be able to hide the rest of vampire society from Owen for a few years, but certainly not centuries. It's a question of practicality. But that gives him plenty of time to convince Owen of his own feelings on the matter.

And yes, this is falling into cult territory again. Because that's the thing, isn't it? If you're raised in an environment like that, as Louis most certainly was, then the tools that environment gives you are the ones you have. They're the ones you default to if you're not mindful.

So: Ex-cult/coven member Louis, trying to spare Owen from the vampire cults he knows are out there (that he has personally experienced, perhaps), but using the tools his life has given him to do so: the same isolation and warnings about outsiders that cults will use to cut new members from a chance at escape.

He'll lie to Owen, and tell himself it's temporary: just until Owen finds his feet and stops being so starved for attention that he'll follow the first charismatic vampire to tell him he can be powerful. He'll keep Owen to himself until Owen is healed, until Owen can distance himself a little from the deep and ragged wounds of his human life.

Just until then.