#vlegs

The thought circulates, a singular loop of one final act, one final thing. Cleo promised him that, at least.

I was never going to be a graceful thing, he thinks, and isn't that that the truth? He was never going to come back. The tree that's rotted from the roots. There was too much corruption in his actions, in his head.

I was never going to be a graceful thing, he thinks, and it's not just about this form he has right now, it's not just the bloodstained outfit or the missing parts of him, it's about the bloodstained hands and the missing parts of him.

Legs feels cold, feels the wet and cold and cold drain into his bones. Feels his skin, tight and stretched and scarred. Broken open in angry gashes, blood he didn't know he still had coagulating in the dents. Cold. It's not a cold he ever felt as a human - though he's so quickly forgetting - but something more, something in his soul that is emanating a chill he can't stop.

Everything is so different, and yet it all feels horrifyingly familiar.

Cleo's form is the only solid thing, their dress blending with the trees and shadows ahead of him.

She was always like him. Seemed to feel what he felt and think like he did and never waver in the ways it mattered - which does make them different from him, because he never could stop wavering, stop hesitating - but she knew. She knew, somehow, and despite it all, they were here with him.

One last horrible thing, they had promised.

And then death, he finished in his head. Swore to himself. He would do it.

Cleo seemed to see it in him, somehow - not through his eyes, not even she would meet his eyes - but they seemed to understand what he was thinking. Nodded, silent, like she would fulfill the promise.

Finally. Not honorable, maybe, but at least all he did would be even. At least the good might finally balance out the bad.

One last horrible thing, and he has to be the one to do it. It's always been him, hasn't it?

Cleo's plan and his execution - in more ways than one - and one last horrible thing.

It's Abolish turn first, and he meets Legs' eyes. The one that's gone and the one that's red now, not green like it used to be. Abolish, who is the only one who will.

Abolish with a will as strong and sharp as the silver he carries, Abolish who holds out his arm, steady, and Legs has always needed that. Steady hands to his shaking, steady morals and goals and person. Steady, steady.

Abolish who doesn't close his eyes against the pain when Legs lifts his pale wrist to a mouth full of fangs he doesn't want - one last horrible thing.

He pulls away quick, fast because if it was his fault that - if it was his fault, Legs would never get to die in peace. There would be no one last horrible thing, only a continuation of all the horrible things he had already done.

He can feel it. The blood dripping from his mouth, the way it tastes different now that he's aware of it. There's a tie in his heart now, or what's left of it - not that he had much of one to begin with.

Abolish, his fledgling. His, now, and the only thing he regrets is that he will leave the man without a sire. Legs can feel that own gap in his chest where O- no, no, not his name. Where he left. Where he chose to die rather than face the monster he created.

No, actually, he won't feel it, won't feel any regret or anything at all, because none of these people will be vampires for long, so it won't matter.

One last horrible thing, and it's Martyn next. Martyn, whose green eyes are not like his were at all, who doesn't remind Legs of himself in any way - but he's reassuring Ren, all the same.

Just a blink, Specs. So quick you won't even feel it.

And Legs is lifting his arm and Martyn won't even look at him, keeps his eyes locked on the man beside him - don't look at me, don't look at me, please look please see -

One last horrible thing, and then the wrist is limp and Martyn is falling. Dropping so quickly, his body crumpling, bright gold hair on the ground with the grey of dead grass and it looks so wrong and oh no no no-

One last horrible thing, no, he didn't mean to. Didn't mean to, he- it was a mistake, an accident, he didn't mean to, please, it was an accident, he didn't, he didn't- he didn't do that, he-

Cleo. Hand on his shoulder voice in his ear. Not your fault.

Yes, my fault, yes, accident but my fault, my bite my fledgling my fault my fault.

Legs doesn't see much, doesn't open his eyes because the phantom of his own heart beating is louder than everything else and it all is too much.

It slows eventually, but by that time there's yelling.

Legs doesn't see, won't see but he hears blade hit meat, wet and solid and wrong and so familiar that Legs wants to sob. Wrenches his eyes open so he's not back on that battlefield in that tent. Finally sees instead of hears Ren's body fall by Martyn's and isn't that poetry after all?

Hears Apo's gasp and muffled sobbing, sees Scott look down at his claws - blood, more blood on hands, more blood, my fault my fault - sees the way they all seem to avoid his eyes.

One last horrible thing to save them all and in the end only saved one. One last horrible thing but it's every last horrible thing.

And in the end he only saved one.

I was never going to be a graceful thing, he thinks as he climbs. Fate is not a clean thing and neither am I.

The grass is grey and the rocks beneath him are dark and the sun sinks lower in the sky. The only one who understood him, behind him, silent. One last horrible thing, he whispers as the sun sets, and he turns to look at the one who has been his- his friend.

There are no tears in her eyes, but he never expected there to be.

They have both shed enough tears for eternity.

I don't know how I'm supposed to do this, and it's words breathed into air, soft and shaky. It's not a question but he answers anyways.

Just. He pauses, because there is no words for this kind of mercy. This kind of love.

Not that he ever deserved it.

Just be good, he settles on.

For you, they whisper.

His skin burns, but that could be just because of him.

It's pain, but nothing he hasn't forced upon himself already.

And then - the final release of a bittersweet death.

hhhhh. blows them up

I don't think v!Legs ever knew what Owen ever truly wanted. I don't think Owen himself knew what he wanted other than Louis, hence his comfort with death.

Legs saw Owen as a patient. Legundo only saw the grief side to Owen's pain, due to the loss of Louis.

What the doc failed to realise was that Owen needed company, and that a friend/companion was the best thing he could've given the vampire. The whole reason Owen got so attached to Louis in the first place was because of the loneliness and isolation that had plagued him all his life.

Or maybe im crazy, IDK.

Haven't posted a poem on here in a while, but Owen put the entire VSMP playlist from his POV on his subathon today and v!Owen has dragged me back kicking and screaming into the pits of hell, so here we are