Chapter Text
Why did she come back? Why did she come running to the one person she hated? Maybe it was because they were betrayed, or maybe they were scared. Never once did they think about coming back here alone, especially to join forces with the vampires. Thinking back, why did they ever show Martyn? Tell him? Why would they make that mistake? But Apo thought back to what Scott had said, "You don't get to play Woe is me, not in my castle!" Despite being corrected, he was right; she didn't get the moment to cry. At least not until she was alone..
There was now a quiet shuffle of paper and scribble of pen within the room. The castle was intense to say the least, but this room was rather small. The rough deepslate walls were cold to the touch, while the wooden flooring was soft. About two windows bring in light when the dark red curtains are drawn back during the night, but currently, they keep the daylight from burning Apo's skin as she sat at the dark oak desk. The desk was crudely made by Owen, but he was kind enough to sand down the surface and its edges. The bed behind where Apo sat was relatively soft, the red comforter thick and soft with a silk feel to it. This room was set aside for Apo; Scott apparently decorated it for her. The same went for Cleo, and if Apo had to guess, perhaps Avid and Drift for later on. She thought it was sweet of him, granted, she would never admit that out loud.
The click of heels startles Apo from their thoughts. The steps were loud, with purpose, like whoever it was wanted her to know they were coming... Scott was coming. She closed the notebook they held, getting up from the desk to hide it under the bed. She was careful with it, making sure it was well hidden, but nothing was torn. When she knew the book was safe, she then hid herself. Climbing into the bed, they faced the window, away from the door. They didn't want to be seen, for someone to know they were awake. The clicking drew closer and closer, and then a notice of a beating heart. A constant drum that seemed to beat faster the closer the steps came to the room, but it wasn't Scott's, it was Apos. Their breath was shaky with anxiety, and if she were to hold up her hands, they too would shake. But soon the sound stopped, now outside the door. A gentle knock now fills the quiet room. "Apo! I'm respecting your privacy by knocking, but as your sire, I may come in any way~"
"Go away!" Apo yelled out, but that wasn't stopping Scott; he came in anyway, and the scent of blood accompanied him. It was sickening. When was the last time Apo fed? "Oh, so stubborn. You can't hide in here the whole time." his tone seemed playful, but there was still a condescension. "Yes, I can, and I will," Apo answered, hiding further under the covers. The hunger is seeping in slowly.
"Are you sure about that?" Scott hums, walking in front of Apo, looking down at them like he can see them past the blanket. "Something tells me you may be going stir crazy being here by yourself!"
The scent of blood had gotten stronger, making it difficult for Apo to keep the hunger at bay. Her mouth waters at the smell, fangs aching from the smell; it was driving them crazy. They lowered the blanket from where her face was hidden. Looking up at the man who was her sire, his red eyes looking at her. His white hair dangled from how he was leaning down, but a considerable amount of distance was kept between the two. "There we are, now then, I brought you this." Scott holds out the cause for the dizzying scent: A bottle of blood, the quark removed from its top. The red liquid sat within the bottle, moving as it was presented to Apo. "I'm not hungry..."
Scott ticks standing up fully with a partial hiss, "I figured you wouldn't be, after all you did eat from the chicken pen." He sets the bottle on the desk, leaving it for her to take later. He sits down in the desk chair, one leg sitting a top of the other. "That wasn't me." Apo refutes, sitting up in the bed.
"Well, it had to be someone; there were only a few chickens left in the pen," he hums, leaning his elbow on the back of the chair, his hand made into a fist under his chin. "It must have been when we left earlier this morning to talk to the doctor." He recounts. Apo doesn't say anything. It wasn't her, but then again, many things they've done seem rather blurry, but they haven't left the room. "It wasn't me, Scott."
"Now, see, I don't believe you. You were the only one who was here when we all left," he hums, tapping his chin. "And all the chickens were in the pen, but when we came back, they were gone... why is that, I wonder?" Scott stands, getting ready to leave the room. "I'll leave the blood, but do come eat with us soon, Apo," he says, giving a small wave before leaving, closing the door behind him. His steps receded into the stone hallway, wooden floors soon turning into stone as he walked.
Scott's hand reaches out to the stone, gently and carefully grazing it as if it were as fragile as a butterfly's wing. He hums a song, a melody from oh so long ago. he steps into the meeting hall, where a quiet Shelby sat writing. "Where are the other two?" he asks, going to sit next to her. "Something about the tower. Wasn't really paying attention," she says, looking up from her book, a smile on her face. "How's Apo doing? Is she okay? Is she hungry?" Shelby asked, her eyes like those of a puppy. "They're doing fine, just a little stubborn and hungry," he hums, leaning back in his chair. He looks up at the chandelier, a small smile, one hard to hide. "She'll learn eventually. But my patience can go only so far."
"You aren't going to hurt her, are you?"
"Oh, Shelby, no! I wouldn't do that to her! I'm no monster." He says with a hand on his heart in a dramatized way. "Just might be harsher when trying to bring them out of their room," he hums, gently taking Shelby's face, his hands cupping their cheeks. "I would never hurt you or Apo," he smiles, backing up and gently patting her on the head. Shelby looked at him, a small concern and hesitance bubbling within her. "Good, because she seems to be having a rough time as it is." She turns back to her writing.