Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oh, probably because I'm a vampire."

The small group in the decrepit tower fall silent at Scott's words, all turning to look at him. The pale white beacon in the center of the room glows untouched. Seemingly interrupted by Scott having walked in on everyone kneeling to make it turn golden. And give off creepy lightness vibes. Kind of like intense beams of sunlight, but trapped in glass.

Luckily, it did stutter to stop due to his intimidating presence. Though it immediately made a few people go all suspicious and point fingers at him. Like he knows anything about these weird beacons or whatever.

"HYUH?!" Avid screams, quickly flinching back from the center of the room.

Scott raises an eyebrow, faintly smirking in amusement. Not necessarily opposed to the reaction, but it is a bit loud and dramatic. Even for Scott's taste.

"Oh, heavens' above, don't encourage him," Legundo says, stepping into the room behind him.

"Trust me, I would not encourage anything from a man such as him," Scott says.

Martyn snorts, while everyone else around seems to shake their head or roll their eyes, similar tones to the doctor. More appropriate to if Scott had just said he's a unicorn or something else ridiculous. A sprig of tired annoyance goes through him. Are these humans being purposefully obtuse?

"Not—not funny, dude. It is not a joking matter," Avid says. He is inordinately sweaty and shrill.

"I'm not joking. I'm a vampire," Scott says flatly.

This time, Avid is the only one that laughs. Very nervously. And with his eyes looking around, just about everywhere except at Scott. Maybe it would respectful if not for… the rest of him. Scott places his hand on his hip while an awkward air fills the room.

"Let's just, uh, try this again? Or see what those other people are up to," Drift suggests.

Scott shrugs in disinterest, though some of the eyes remain stuck on him. No one but Martyn makes a move to move on. Hm.

"Vampires aren't real. Is that some sort of play pretend, like Martyn being a rich boy?" Cleo asks, eyes scanning him.

"Hey!" Martyn yells.

"Excuse you. I am actually rich. And actually a vampire," Scott says, an offended hand on his chest.

"Mm," Cleo hums with thin eyes.

"Seriously, cut the supernatural nonsense, everyone. You're going to start a paranoia," Legundo says, massaging his nose bridge.

"Exactly," Abolish agrees quietly.

"You know what? I don't know why I have to prove myself to you all, random strangers. I was just answering your question about why this weird magic thing failed," Scott says, flapping his hand at the beacon. "I came here to get a lay of the land, anyway. Find some food. So…"

With one last flip of his hand, Scott turns and strides out of the broken side of the wall. He passes the doctor by, who scowls at him. Gods forbid Scott is honest for once. Maybe he should have gone to the effort of lying after all. Surely that would have gone over better for him.

It usually does. And it's more fun, when he's not so short on brain width and food.

Right as he steps outside, there's a quick procession of footsteps behind him. Followed swiftly by a guttural yell. Scott turns, just in time for Avid to throw himself physically onto his body.

Scott's weakened legs bend a little beneath the weight of an entire man's body, unimpressive as it may be, which forces him to take another step backwards. While Scott shoves the man away with a violent snarl on his face, Avid claws himself closer. All around, shouts and cries have picked up. Legundo grabs Avid by the arm, trying to pry him away.

It doesn't deter Avid from reaching into his pocket.

And pulling out a wooden stake.

"Oh, for fuc—!"

With a poof of billowing cloth and wings, Scott transforms into a bat. It's quite quick for his first time in six hundred years. Uncomfortable, if not the edge of painful. But as he flies upwards, that mostly fades. The wind is a little nice, as is the downward looking perspective on the scurrying little humans.

Down below, Avid has fallen onto the ground, swinging his hands around at the bats left behind. If anything, the screaming from everyone has actually picked up in tone and volume. Fear and shock instead of outrage.

Kind of offensive, that they would scream louder at some little bats than at Scott's attempted murder. And they call him the cruel one.

"What in the good hell?" Martyn cries.

"Well, this is unexpected," Cleo says, shockingly calm.

It seems that the other crowd of people within the town are drawn closer by the sounds of terror and swift action. Soon, about a dozen people are stood before the ruined tower at the center of town. Looking at bats and a raving lunatic. Somehow, the bat is not the main focus or concern.

"He's a vampire! He's a vampire! I told you!" Avid shrieks.

Not the main focus or concern until everyone gets a good understanding on what the vampire thing is a about, anyway.

With a poof, Scott shifts back into his human form. He gently floats down to the top of the tower over, everyone, legs crossing in the sit. Just barely, he leans forwards to look at the gaping faces better. All turned up towards him.

"Yes, like I quite said," Scott says. "And you're an unhinged murderer. Which I think is far more frightening and life threatening for all of yous."

"A vampire…?" Legundo murmurs, looking down at his own hands. Grabbing his forehead slowly, in search of questioned sanity.

"A vampire!" Shelby and Sausage cry at the same time.

Everyone seems in a similar state. Looking around, pinching themselves, asking obvious questions like did I really just see that? Scott laughs in amusement.

There's a few faces in the crowd which are not so pure and baffled. Or at least that have changed quicker.

Cleo, Pearl, Abolish, Owen. Hm.

"Again, I did say," Scott says, raising his voice.

"You—you monster! I'm going to slay you!" Avid yells, tripping into a stand.

"Is anyone else hearing this? That's definitely threatening on top of attempted murder. Not a good look," Scott says, placing his chin on the top of his hand.

"Shut up, monster! I told you all!" Avid says, laughing a bit again.

"Monster is mean too…" Scott says, bouncing his crossed leg. "I'm just a vampire. As I have said. Repeatedly."

"Trying to hide yourself among the town to feed off of us in thee night?" Ren asks, stepping forwards and drawing out his axe.

"No! Are you all speaking a different language? I said that I was a vampire immediately! I don't think I could have been quicker!" Scott places his face in his hand. "Humans have gotten so dense in the last few hundred years…"

"He did come out and say it before Avid even accused him," Martyn says, holding a rock to his chest for some reason. Like that will help him. "Which is inordinately quick."

"He did…" Drift agrees weakly.

"So what? He's a monster, we need to kill him before he kills us! Guys, come on!" Avid yells.

"The only one trying to kill anyone around here is you, last I checked. You all woke me up and then instantly attacked me. I don't even know what's happening," Scott says.

"You just said that you were going to eat!" Avid points at Scott. Rude.

"Uh, yeah? I'm, like, starving to death right now. Hence why I was going to get some food," Scott says.

"Us?!" Sausage asks, hands clutched before him strangely.

"No? Animals? You all never had a steak before?" Scott says, huffing.

"Oh, yeah? Then why are you up there?" Avid asks.

"Because you tried to kill me!" Scott yells back down. "And are actively trying to encourage the group of way more competent looking people to join you."

"I don't think you have a lot to worry about in that last regard," Cleo calls up to him.

"Martyn is aiming a rock at my head," Scott says, pointing.

Cleo slaps Martyn's lifted hand, making his ammo fall back to the ground. The man pouts.

"Nobody is going to kill anybody," Legundo says, spreading his arms out. "Let's all just be rational."

"Rational like you said vampires don't exist?" Avid asks sharply.

"Even if they do, that's not an excuse to jump to killing or mobbing anyone. No one has been hurt, right?" Legundo says firmly.

"Well, that dirty one stained my jacket," Scott says, brushing off the tail of it slightly. "Oh, and tried to stake me through the heart."

"Cause you're a vampire!" Avid yells.

"So? I'm just trying to live my life, undisturbed. Commoners are so violent, sheesh," Scott says, crossing his arms.

"That's a bit of an over-generalization," Drift says.

The woman slides up beside Avid, setting a hand on his stabbing elbow. He practically jumps into the air, like a spooked cat.

Scott purposefully keeps a smile off of his face.

"No one is going to do anything violent," Legundo repeats like a mantra, facing Avid a bit more. Though he keeps his eyes on a flicker up to Scott.

"I really can't have anyone dying here on my watch. I don't know if vampires count as that, but…" Apo agrees. Sort of. And she seems to be the only one with a proper sword on them as of yet.

Good? Maybe?

"Hey, I'm a someone," Scott says, laying a hand on his chest. Then, softly enough to probably not be heard: "More someone than a lot of you…"

"We cannot kill the first vampire I have ever met! I have so much to ask him!" Shelby pipes up.

"That is a good point," Sausage says. Pyro nods too: "It is."

The nerdy ones seem the most boldly on his side. Interesting. They aren't exactly threatening, but numbers are numbers.

And humans are human.

"Also, the murder thing seems pretty bad," Abolish speaks up calmly from the the side.

"Agreed!" Scott sings, swinging his legs. "Glad that has been decided! I really am oh-so tired, flying away for my life again would be so straining."

"No, no, you can come down," Avid says, practically seething.

"Okay, no," Legundo says.

Legundo walks over to pry the stake out of Avid's hands. It seems momentarily like it will be a fight, almost becoming interesting—who is Scott to beloath two men fighting over him?—but Drift steps in before it does. And firmly helps the stake end up in Legundo's hands.

Notably, said stake remains within the doctor's clutches, out and not put away. A violence only restrained, then.

"Thank you, good doctor," Scott says, smiling at him.

The doctor is not so pleased by it, apparently. But he seems set on trying to align himself with the rational crowd, so hopefully he will see to holding back whatever his issues are. Perhaps simply angry that Scott is disproving his world views on the supernatural.

Scott is often world changing for many. He can't help being super.

"Let's all just talk," Legundo says firmly.

"Sure," Scott says, swallowing a sigh. He may be bored back to death, if he doesn't starve first.

"What brings ye here, beastly one?" Ren asks, squinting harshly.

"First of all, rude. My name's Scott. Second of all, I was here first. Like, wayyyyy first. That ruined manor back there is mine," Scott says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

"So you were just living in castle ruins all this time?" Apo says, sounding judgmental.

"Gods, no. I have standards," Scott scoffs. "I was asleep in the tomb underneath it. For the past, what? Six hundred years? Everything was much more in one piece back then."

"Six hundred years… How did that happen?" Pyro asks, fingers on his chin and eyes blinking. Like they're talking instead of interrogating. Funny.

"Magic curse, I would think. I hardly know the specifics, I'm not one for the occult arts. I just found myself in a tomb, in a state of unconsciousness, and then randomly: awake now. Must have been you all," Scott says, raising his hands shortly.

"Why would someone curse you?" Martyn asks, squinting hard.

"Why would someone try to stake me with my back turned?" Scott asks sharply. Avid has taken up silently glaring. Without blinking. Spooky. "People get so freaked out about vampires. It's quite rude!"

There's a few shared looks and uncomfortable murmurs. Mulling the words over.

"And what are you planning to do now that you're awake?" Pearl asks, looking at him intently. One of the ones to keep an eye on.

"I don't know. What are you all up to?" Scott says breezily. "Trying to not starve to death. Get my shelter back to an adequate and grand state. Reach out to some old friends to see if they're still around. Classic upkeep."

"With blood? From who?" Pearl asks, very on task with that one.

"Again, animals," Scott says, rolling his eyes. "None of you all seem worth being staked through the heart for, no offense."

"Can you live off of animals alone?" Legundo asks.

"Sure. Though it takes quite a few animals to manage. Hence why I'm out and about, looking," Scott says.

Probably true, though Scott never has tried. Never been much reason—and even more pertinent, much want.

But that won't go over well with this crowd, he doesn't think.

"And you can just keep control of yourself? Not go around attacking people?" Abolish asks.

"I mean, not if I get hungry enough. But I'm pretty freaking starving right now and haven't given anyone a nibble, now have I?" Scott says. "Really, it's no different than a human. You'll bite to stave off a horrid starving death, won't you?"

Mixed responses go through everyone at that. But no one seems to necessarily disagree. Well, except for…

"And let's remember, I'm not the one that attacked anyone!" Scott says, throwing a hand up.

"I didn't attack a person. I attacked a monster," Avid says, face dour while his body shakes minutely.

"Again, rude. I'm just some guy," Scott says. He tosses his hair. "A very handsome, talented, successful guy. Who is a vampire also."

Cleo scoffs loudly at that, while a few others give a laugh of surprise. Scott smiles sweetly. One of his good ones.

"What about revenge? For the people who wronged you?" Owen finally asks, all the way at the back of the crowd.

Scott squints slightly, before smoothing it away.

"Revenge against who? Anyone who cursed me is dead six times over, at least. And frankly, I didn't know any of them well enough to go tracking down great-great-great-great-great-great grandchildren. Did I get that right?" Scott says.

"Well, generations typically last around 20 years, so there's likely been around 30 since you were cursed asleep—" Pyro prattles.

"Oh gods, no! That's way too many," Scott says with a grand huff. "I'm tired again already! I'm petty, but not that petty!"

When a few people seem vaguely amused, though not the deeply frowning and sad looking Owen, or the growling Avid, Scott slides off of the top of the tower. Everyone takes a few steps back and raises their hands a little, while he crouches low to soften his fall. Standing, he brushes his coat straight and dust free. With his hands anyway, he keeps his eyes on the humans before him. Ready to push a bat transformation to fly out of town if he really needs to.

Despite their varying fear, skepticism, and awe, most of the humans don't seem apt to attack him right now. It's almost a pity, because he has no excuse to attack them then. But he truly is too tired to start that himself now.

So Scott just smiles instead.

"Now, it is getting late. Anyone apt to prepare the town before the creatures of the night come in?"

When Cleo laughs, loud and acerbic, Scott gets the feeling that he could grow to respect the human. Unlikely as it may be.

Chapter Text

Leisurely, Scott strolls through the forest. He keeps his footsteps light and silent, posture straight and hands clutched behind him.

A few steps behind him, he hears the crunch of a twig snapping. An unwitting eye roll crosses his face. One would think that if they want to stalk a presumed killer, they would have a little subtly. Or at least wouldn't be tripping over themselves to warn all the prey.

Now, practically all the prey left in the woods is that silly little human.

Scott smiles, but he smothers it. If he really wanted to, he could fly away to lose the trial. But where would the fun in that be? Plus, he's only slogging through the woods because he is starved to begin with. Using so much power won't do him any good in the long run. Damned 600 year fast.

Moving slower, so even the human behind him can keep a quiet pace, Scott scans the woods with smooth flicks of his eyes. Side to side, looking for the barest twitches of movements that contrast the breeze. For any increased smell on the wind, fresh and moist tracks in the ground. Scott is not a hunter by any traditional means, but vampire senses do give him a natural edge. Just like in most things.

With one foot in front of the other, Scott pauses as he sees a pale brown ear flicker. A deer, head dipped to the ground and nosing at grass in a clearing.

Eyes thin, Scott begins moving in a clockwise motion around the clearing. Over to the deer's back. Sandwiching the creature between him and the opposing set of trees.

And, just barely visible among those tree trunks and branches: the glimmer of purple eyes.

"Careful, Avid. You'll scare the prey," Scott says quietly.

He hears the quietest of gasps across the clearing from him. A wide smile spreads across Scott's face.

Of course, the deer actually hears Scott's actual words over Avid's pitiful gasp. So when its ears peek up and it takes off running, it heads straight towards Avid. Scott lunges right for the deer, crossing the clearing in a single leap. A scream rings out from the brush right before him. Scott's foot lands on the center of the deer's back, crumpling the creature downwards. Swiftly, he twists its head to the side by the antlers. With a clean snap, it dies.

Looking up, Scott meets Avid's eyes a few trees away. The man has fallen onto the ground, leaned back on his palms. His chest is rising and falling swiftly, like he was the deer running.

Hilarious.

Scott crouches over the deer, pulling its head back. Not bothering to drop the eye contact, he digs his teeth into the animal's neck. Dragging them back roughly to tear through the flesh and arteries. Necessary, when the prey is already dead. Living prey is much easier, in that way. How their hearts shove the blood right into his mouth. Mighty convenient.

After a few mouthfuls, barely enough to temper the sharp edge of his stomach, Scott pulls back. He swallows the dredges of flesh that stick to his teeth, before wiping his mouth with the side of his hand.

Then he licks the blood off of the whole stretch of his hand.

Raptly watching and frozen, Avid's ghostly pale face grows a bit red on the cheeks. Hilarious.

"Want some?" Scott offers.

"No!" Avid yells, flinching backwards.

Scott shrugs neutrally, standing in one smooth motion. Avid scrambles to follow. Oh, that one tries to be a leader, but he's not even very good at pretending to be one. Recently freed himself of his leasher, if Scott were to guess.

"Good. I'm way too hungry to share, anyway," Scott says. He sighs, before leaning towards Avid. "You know, unless you offered me something in return."

"I don't—I'm not—" Avid stutters. "I'm not offering you any of my blood!"

"I just meant you'd have to clean and butcher the deer for me! Jeez, so forward," Scott says, covering his mouth with his fingers.

The blush on Avid's face worsens. As does the shaking in his hands.

"Suppose I'll have to handle it myself. Those peasants might have cursed me asleep, but they were so useful for these little tasks," Scott sighs, stepping back completely.

"What? You enslaved humans to prepare food for you?" Avid asks sharply.

"Uh, never heard of a butcher?" Scott says, flatly meeting his eyes. "I am a lord, Avid. I didn't do the food preparation."

"Oh," Avid says.

Smirking, Scott goes to the effort of hoisting the deer up onto his shoulders. It's a small strain at this stage or vampirism, and still mostly starved from going so long without food, but he manages it after a moment. Then he turns and starts walking back to town.

"…Are you done now?" Avid asks, belatedly trailing along.

"Can't exactly carry two deer," Scott says.

Probably not true, but it would be a small struggle. More so with lack of room on his shoulders than weight. And even if Scott can do things, he abhors to have to. If only one of the wimpier humans was the farmer of this strange little town, he'd be much better off.

But everyone is still so far on edge, and in a poorly murder-y sort of way, that Scott thinks it best to get his own food for now. Ugh.

"It's so convenient how you always go on strolls through the woods at the same time as me," Scott says, voice polite and uninterested.

"I'm not going to let a vampire out of my sight where you could butcher someone," Avid says.

"You can just say that you want to look at me more," Scott says.

"That is not—!" Avid cuts himself off. "I will not let anyone here die."

"Well we're all safer with you watching over us, hm?" Scott says, sending him a close lipped smile.

Slowly, a path appears below their feet. Half overgrown and winding, back to the appropriately durgy Oakhurst. Scott doesn't bother making his footsteps quiet here. Though he does make an effort not to scuff the leather of his shoes. They're badly worn and slightly dirtied already.

He sighs while looking down at them. There couldn't be a cobbler in the merry band of misfits?

"…I'll butcher the deer for you," Avid says suddenly.

Looking at him, Scott raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's a good deal," Avid says, shifting nervously.

"Mhm… And the guy who hates me, wants me dead, and is actively stalking me has come around to help because…? The power of friendship finally prevailed?" Scott asks sarcastically.

Avid snorts, laughing nervously. "No. No. Just, I could use the food. And my roommate too. I didn't exactly catch anything."

Sound logic? Sure. Utterly suspicious? Most definitely. Scott doesn't trust the offer as far as he can throw it with his supernaturally strong, but still elegantly thin, wrists.

But what could the puny man do? Steal it? Everyone in town will see Scott carrying it in, fang holes in its neck. It won't be a good look for Avid if he tried.

"Okay," Scott says simply. "You can have the skin and bones if you want it too."

"Great…" Avid says, disgust plain on his face.

Scott turns till their eyes meet, leaning his face closer. Then he smiles.

"Save me the heart. My favorite."

There's that pale skin and red cheeks combo again. It takes work not to giggle.

The heart is not even the third best part of the animal, but this makes it a little sweeter.

Reaching the entrance to the town, Scott allows Avid to open the fence for him. They make it to right abouts the center of town, eyes of a few clinging to them. Nothing new for Scott. He makes a show of struggling a bit to get the deer off his shoulders. Then he deposits it into Avid's arms.

The man falls forwards instantly, crying out a little. Scott catches his shoulders and shoves him back up.

"Careful there," Scott says, patting his shoulder lightly. "Thanks so much for the help."

"S-sure," Avid says.

With a wiggling wave of his fingers, Scott steps back and turns, walking down the path. He meets the face of anyone who looks towards him, nodding politely. Most everyone nods back.

He comes to a pause outside of one of the houses. With a short rap of his knuckles, he knocks on the door.

It opens after a short pause.

"Oh, hello Scott," Sausage says, blinking a few too many times to go with his smile.

"Hello. May I use your washroom, by chance? I wouldn't want my blood stains to set," Scott says, smiling back widely.

Sausage stutters for a few seconds, brain apparently stalling. It's like humans have been utterly bereft of wit and charm since Scott's been gone. Poor things.

Stepping back, Sausage opens the door wider.

"Of course, of course," Sausage says.

"Thank you," Scott says.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving him to soak in the warmth of the small space. The smell of food wafting from the kitchen, the fireplace, the loft above. He hears a soft creak from up there, but no footsteps.

If there's something to be said about Sausage, the man is a stellar builder—at least for peasant architecture. His house is one of the few around the makeshift town with full amenities, and a bit of quaint style. Scott is waiting for the man to lose some of his bashfulness in favor of proper veneration. Then Scott can ask him to help with getting his manor rebuilt.

"Have you thought about taking me up on the interview, by chance?" Sausage asks, following after him.

"Oh? I suppose, when I am free. Though I don't know how much use it will be for your little stories," Scott says.

"The best fiction is based on reality," Sausage says. "Hence why I came to this lovely little town to begin with. To study the… massacres."

Pausing, Scott turns to Sausage. He looks at him intently, making his eyes widen and tongue tie up. Almost visibly.

Scott reaches towards him, forcing the slightest of winces through the man's frame.

Then, he flicks Sausage's collar. "You have an odd sense of humor."

"Oh, well, yes. I guess," Sausage says, laughing a bit. Slightly sweaty.

With a hum and a short smile, Scott closes himself in the man's washroom. There's a lock on the door, fresh water in the sink pail, and it's overall clean.

The smile drops from his face. His nose wrinkles as he dunks his fingers into the cold water, scrubs his nails clean. Then his face to ensure there's no stray flecks of blood. Finally, he peels his coat off to see to it. Scrubbing vigorously until only the faintest aroma of iron remains. The black color does the rest.

Scott has no interest in sealing himself into one of these houses long term with a little roommate. The idea feels insipid and intolerable. So tiring to carry pretenses so long.

Of course, that was his specialty way back when. But weakened so much by the cursed sleep, and then the lack of food—let alone creature comforts. It's all sharp and no wine dulled. Scott used to play violin, back as a human knave. There's grandness is plucking strings, but distasteful callouses can grow without proper pampering.

He sighs silently. He's hungry.

Scott collects himself a moment, before stepping out of the washroom. He bumps into Owen.

Talk about someone that kills appetites.

"Scott," Owen says tersely.

"Owen," Scott says back.

"Using our bathroom again?" Owen asks.

"Well, not too many people are keen on inviting a vampire in to live with them, you know. Some people have real prejudices about them," Scott says, sighing mournfully.

Strangely, Owen's eyes drop to the floor. A bitter look in his eyes. Something is up with that guy, and he very obviously does not like Scott. But he doesn't think that it's the typical fear and suspicion of the vampirism. Weird guy.

"Not that Sausage, though. A kind soul, that one is," Scott continues, walking out to the sitting room.

"Quite," Owen murmurs.

Sausage happens to be there. Obvious ahead of time, due to his not so quiet puttering about. And even more obvious eavesdropping of their conversation. He turns to Scott with a smile.

Lifting his coat where it is draped over his arm in gesture, Scott approached the fireplace.

"May I dry this here?" Scott asks.

"Yes, of course," Sausage says. Scott carefully arranges the damp coat over the arm of a wooden chair by the fire, so it will neither wrinkle or singe. "If you ever need a place to sleep either, you are always welcome to crash here."

"Sausage," Owen hisses.

"What? It is pretty tense out there, and not to mention dangerous in these parts of the woods. Those wolves that you said. It's not right to discriminate based on vampire or human or what-have-you," Sausage says.

"That is not why," Owen mutters.

"A kind offer for sure, Sausage. Thank you," Scott says. "Though vampires do not sleep. And I would never dream of being rude."

"Nonsense, it's not rude!" Sausage says.

"If the whole world was made of people like you, life would be much easier," Scott says.

While Sausage looks flattered to wordlessness, Scott has to hide a snicker at his words. Nothing dishonest about them, but hardly flattering. If only everyone lacked such suspicion and hostility. Maybe Scott wouldn't be starving then.

Owen squints displeased at him openly. As though the words give him a sour taste. Maybe he's smarter than he seems.

But Scott just shrugs vaguely at him, before going back to brushing at his coat.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, at least?" Sausage offers. Scott looks up, tilting his head at the man. And obviously racking his eyes over him. "Oh, no! I mean—! I'm not sure if you can eat normal food or meat or—"

"Another kind offer. I'm shocked that you are not of the peerage, Mr. M. You make me feel quite welcome," Scott says. Again, it seems to flatter the man quite so. "Unfortunately, I do have dinner plans with Avid already."

"Avid?" Owen asks, skepticism cutting his tone.

"Yeah, wait. Avid?" Sausage echoes.

"Mm. He offered after stalking me through the woods all day. And considering that he didn't kill me during that ample time, I thought I'd take the gesture as it is," Scott says, shrugging. "Plus, as much as I'm sure that you're an exquisite cook, I really do lack the palette for all things not bloody."

"Another time, then," Sausage says, face fighting between fear and excitement.

"Of course," Scott says.

As he steps out of the house, leaving his coat behind for now, he waves to Owen who is sulking in the corner. The man just looks at him, face blank.

Through the center of town, Scott walks once more. With the sun set to set shortly, more people are about. Checking on the farm in the corner, the livestock that Scott can't get near without people eyeing him, and working on rebuilding the destroyed infrastructure.

It is, if Scott were to guess, very much like the sights and sounds of a common commoner town. Well, minus quite a lot of population, but in the broad strokes. The casual buzz to things, the smell of sweat and work. The people.

This angle to it all, it is undoubtedly odd for him. He's sure that he does not like it, not compared to his life before. But something new after all this time and all.

Scott is seeing it through. Not that he has many other choices, but still.

Reaching the center of the town, Scott steps into the stone tower. It is partially rebuilt at this point. A project of apparent importance to the soldier posted here. It's probably for the best, as far as safety from falling stones and such goes. He could imagine that poor squeaky girl, Shelby, getting crushed by a stray boulder right off the top. It would be a pity.

The beacon inside the building is the same neutral white as when they first came across it. Apparently, if the humans kneel at the beacons and consecrate them, they turn a holy golden instead. Quite the sight, though one that Scott has not seen, obviously. As the couple of times that the humans have tried to consecrate the beacon in town, Scott has gotten plainly vocal about the fact that it hurts him.

That is not necessarily a concern or even a bad thing to all of the humans in the town. But, there are enough rational heads to not allow a genuinely dangerous (to some) magical item in the town, when they don't even know what the purpose of the beacons are yet. Other than hurting vampires, of course. Which is quite targeted and cruel, actually.

Scott does not doubt that eventually things will come to pass that some of the members of the town will move to consecrate this beacon too. They've done a few others, scattered across the land. Seemingly, making a mission of it.

The feelings are not very pleasant. So far, this new century is not very glamorous at all.

Perched on the neutral beacon, Scott leans his head back and closes his eyes. His ears twitch as he listens to the hustle and bustle around him. Not slowed or stymied by him being nearby.

It's strange, because Scott has never really experienced anything like this before. He has always been the center of attention, no matter where he is. Except lowered in that coffin, and now hidden in the center of town.

People talking. He can hear snippets. Conversations part way through. Though not the salacious kind that comes with eavesdropping. Do you know how to make soap, you said? Oh yes, my mother taught me. We need ash though. I can get some— eat tonight? I'm not hungry. The sky, and the monsters, it freaks me out. I know, I haven't been sleeping well— the main character just dies! Just like that! Can you believe an author would do that, after seven books?! If you think that's bad, you should read one of my textbooks—

Droll. Simple. Flat.

Scott opens his eyes and the gray of the stone seems to awash the world. Paper cutouts. An orchestra with no conductor. The sort of thing that makes one eat an entire birthday cake just to puke.

The discordant, too quick footsteps of Avid pass by the front of the tower. Scott sighs and pushes himself off of the beacon. Quickly, he shoves the door open.

Avid trips over himself not to run smack into it. Scott smiles.

"Hello."

"Scott! Hi! Hi," Avid says, backing up nervously.

"Time for our dinner date?" Scott asks, sweet as can be.

"Uh, I finished butchering the deer, but I was going to… eat with Drift," Avid says, chuckling and pointing over his shoulder.

Scott sighs. "Quite the snub. I suppose you're just a man of high desirability."

Avid's jaw sets toughly, looking at Scott scathingly. Whoops, too many knives to be covered properly in the frosting. With a hum and a shrug, Scott looks away. Stepping more properly into the kind of town square.

Still, Avid follows behind him. This guy needs to learn about avoiding the things that he hates. It would improve his life, by a lot.

"Just take your creepy deer blood," Avid says sharply.

"Mm." Scott stops, turning on his heel. Avid nearly trips into him then, and also into the big bowl of blood that he is carrying. That would have been a very delicious mess. "Where's the rest of it?"

"You can get that yourself," Avid says.

"Yet you brought me this by hand?" Scott asks. For a scant second, Avid's eyes flicker to the side. Uh-huh. "Playing 'hard to get' requires some more effort. You should ask Sausage, he's really good at it."

Face burning in a glare, Avid shoves the bowl forwards roughly. Scott takes it before it can spill on him. Despite their hands not even brushing , Avid flinches back like he's been burned. Back a few steps. And then standing there, opening and closing his hands strangely.

This situation is utterly suspicious. Subtly, Scott eyes the red liquid. It sure does look like deer blood. Though it smells a tad earthier than what he drank earlier. Because it's more stagnant? Or something more?

Now the smart thing to do would be to throw the bowl of blood back into Avid's face, hiss, maybe bite the man or at least punch him in the face. Then storm off back to his castle for another nap and snack.

From their house, Pearl and Cleo are watching the conversation. The latter more subtly. Abolish is sitting outside, working on a shield, but with his face up. And there's a glint in the doctor's window.

Back to the center of attention. Scott smiles.

"Well, thank you, then. Six hundred years of not eating, I am just starved," Scott says.

Palpably, Avid twitches. And his lips smooth out. There's really going to be a wooden stake at the bottom of this bowl, isn't there?

Bringing the bowl to his lips as elegantly as he can manage, Scott takes a sip and swallow.

Not a stake.

Eyes slamming shut, Scott drops the bowl and flinches backwards, coughing violently. He feels some of the blood force its way up his nose, searing even brighter than the fire down his throat. Like his skin is curdling, burning, leeching out. The sound of shattering fills the air, right as his knees slam into the ground. Both of his hands wrap around his throat as he coughs harder.

Garlic. Of course.

Scott peels his weepy eyes open, peering up at Avid. Watching his hands for any moves for a stake or a silver blade. But the man is frozen still. Staring at him. At his face and eyes.

It takes quite a bit to not smile back at him.

Eyes slamming shut as people run over, skidding into the square, Scott wretches and leans forwards. As a hand touches his back, the nausea and dizziness spills over within him.

He pukes up the dredges of blood in his stomach.

Once it's out, the worst of the pain is gone with it. Still stinging and burning through his stomach and airways. His brain feels like it's spinning in his skull, and the muscles in his limbs might as well be mush. But he's able to pull in a breath and close his mouth. Squint his eyes open as he's pulled up off of the ground and dragged towards a doorway against someone's body.

It doesn't take much to realize that it's the doctor. Scott does not fear for what the man will do to him, even though he knows he must walk a tightrope around him.

Well now that the little blood in his veins in racing, he's primed and ready for that.

Mostly gentle, Legundo levers him down onto a firm cot.

A glance around shows that it's still downstairs in the building, a sheet half cutting off the room. The upstairs of the house is still exposed to the elements. It makes sense that Legundo prioritized the treatment clinic over his own living space. Scott shoves down an eye roll.

The doctor grabs him by the chin, shoving his face upwards. Looking into his eyes, over his face. Scott's eyes flutter closed as the dizziness grips his inner ears in a burst.

"What do you need? What will help you?" Legundo asks.

"Blood," Scott says, raspy before he clears his throat.

"Will animal work?" Legundo asks.

"Some," Scott says, forcing down another eye roll. Can't have him getting a nibble even when he's dying. So cruel.

"Hold on a moment," Legundo says, standing and swiftly leaving his house.

The door bangs shut behind him.

Unless Avid tries to climb in a window, Scott guesses he's safe for now. He snorts and shakes his head, only stopping due to the vertigo still running through him. Very slowly, he rolls onto his side and sets his palms on his stomach. The organ feels a tad willowy, even if the sharpest of the pain is in his mouth and throat where the garlic touched longest.

Very faintly outside, he can hear elevated voices. A smile crosses his lips. His fangs feel overly large in his mouth, which just makes him have to keep down a giggle.

His lightheaded amusement sways as the minutes tick by. As he begins to feel a bit better, a hollowness and exhaustion is left behind.

Avid trying to murder him was almost better.

The door to the house luckily opens then, saving him from his boredom and sickliness. The doctor bustles in, slamming the door shut behind him with his heel. Scott rolls himself over in a slightly more appealing position, waggling his fingers at the man.

"Here. Sorry it took a minute, I had to bargain with Cleo," Legundo says, offering him a bottle of blood. The long rectangular kind that normally holds medicine. Amusing.

"You're the one who's truly suffered today," Scott says. His voice is still a little strained. "No garlic, right?"

"No," Legundo says flatly.

With his pinkie on the bottom of the bottle for stability, Scott brings it to his lips and he drinks. While he's able to not chug the bottle, he doesn't have the restraint to not drink the whole thing in one sitting. Like he's never drunken anything before in his life and his insides are aflame. He has to put it out.

Soon, the rim of the glass clinks on his teeth, empty.

"You're, what? Allergic to garlic then?" Legundo asks.

"I think it's more like poison, but I'm not a doctor," Scott says, shrugging.

"Functionally similar," Legundo murmurs.

"In the end result, I suppose," Scott says.

Running his finger tip around the lip of the bottle, Scott tilts it partially on its side so that the remaining drops can drain into the curve before the neck. Fitting terminology. Gods, he would kill for a real neck.

While he waits patiently, the doctor shifts. Then shifts again.

"Question?" Scott asks, looking at him over his nose.

"No…" Legundo says, utterly unconvincing.

Scott scoffs. Then, he lifts head to properly look at the man. Sickened visage to stern doctor.

Carefully, Scott tilts his head to the side. Just a bit.

"You suspected the blood was poisoned," Legundo accuses.

"My, do you victim blame all of your patients or am I just special," Scott says, smiling.

Legundo is unamused. He makes a move as though to stand and leave. Scott flaps his fingers at him.

"I suspected that Avid had some reason for randomly deciding to help me. Though garlic did slip my mind, in the moment. Trust, I would not have gone that far for any purpose," Scott says.

A half lie, on the last part, as he truly does not know if he would have drank the blood if he knew it was garlic specifically. The crescendo all around, that part was quite good…

"So what was the purpose?" Legundo asks.

"Grabbing the man by his lithe shoulders and screaming 'out with it!' would have been far too dramatic, even for me," Scott says.

"So you risked harm upon yourself just to find out?" Legundo sounds disbelieving.

"I assumed it was going to be more of a social play on his part," Scott says. Again, half a lie, since he did not assume either which way at the time. "I don't know how rough commoners like to play, I suppose."

The doctor scoffs. Scott smiles.

"And, you are correct. I wanted to find out plainly. And have everyone else find out too," Scott says.

"To make Avid look bad?" Legundo asks.

"Is it making him look bad to simply show what he truly did?" Scott asks.

"It's stupid—dangerous—and manipulative," Legundo says, glowering.

"First of all, no one is going to be apt to believe anything I say. I'm a vampire, who has plenty of well documented reasons to want consequences for Avid. Showing is better than telling on that front. And secondly, it's not manipulative to bring truths to light even if they happen to benefit me," Scott says. "That's just called being economical."

"Economical…" Legundo says, dripping disgust. Scott forcibly does not smile. "We have different definitions of economical."

"You know, as a vampire, I could likely kill Avid without much fuss," Scott says.

Legundo stiffens.

"It's not the sort of way I like to do it," Scott says, harshly underplaying his enjoyment of an occasional stomping or two. "Because it has never been my nature. Not when I was human."

"So you manipulate," Legundo says bluntly.

"No. I pick my battles with the long term success in mind."

Legundo is quiet. Watching him. Trying to pick him apart.

Scott smiles.

"Let me tell you—oh, it wasn't the first time someone tried to kill or poison me, no. But it was my favorite!

My parents had just died, and thus I was preparing to take up the manor. The celebrations and preparations, the castle was filled with other nobles and everyone of my peerage, practically. Trying to kiss up to gain my favor before I got the power; smart but too late, of course."

With the story, he trails his fingers slowly. Obvious and easy to track with eyes. Legundo tries to fight it, tries to keep his eyes on Scott's face.

But they keep flickering right to his long, dancing fingers as planned.

"All but one girl. My long term rival. It was a well known mutual distaste, and oh, she tried to hide it a little. But she was just so poorly at it. I hated floral flavored desserts, and suddenly, a change to the menu. Rose tea cakes. Could anything be more suspicious?"

Scott sighs and throws his head back. Like can you get a load of this? Legundo refuses to smile or nod in responses. Such a buzz kill.

"Well, yes, actually," Scott continues. "Because who hand delivered my plate?"

Legundo stares silently.

"You can guess," Scott says, flapping a hand. "Of course I came down horrifically ill, just from a single bite. And everyone knew! Knowing…"

He can't help but smile a little at the memory. Nostalgia, maybe. He looked elegant and fashionable, like a proper poet, as he fainted from the poison. Blood dripping from his nose, from his mouth with every cough. It matched his paper pallor of perpetual blood loss well, even if that was due to the bite marks hidden beneath his sleeves.

Use all resources at your disposal, after all.

"No one could prove it, of course. But knowing was enough," Scott finishes.

"You ate it despite suspecting it was poisoned?" Legundo says, cutting through the fluff and plaster.

"If this time with Avid was suspecting, then that time was knowing for fact," Scott says, scoffing and breaking his own flouncy demeanor too. "But it is all about making what you can of a situation. Because that's how I stay alive, doctor. Avid won't stop stalking and staking me, just as much as a petty rival won't stop preying on my downfall. Sometimes, you take the hit now to avoid the killing blow later."

"And you can take that risk… because you're a vampire," Legundo near accuses.

"No, I was a human then," Scott says. He leaves out the fact that he did know the vampire which would go on to be his sire very well by that point, so he did have some protection from death if he became truly ill. But it's still true. "Must have been… seventeen or so. Very human-y and lively as a sprig. But there's no pointing sawing the leg off if it's not broken and all, I knew that even then."

"Maybe if it's infected," Legundo says, near inaudible.

Scott hums in acknowledgement, before sliding his eyes away.

Whatever for it, Scott doesn't have a particular interest in making the doctor's hatred of him lift. It would take more than any one conversation, Scott is certain of that. And this man offers him far less than many of the others which he could spend that time working on.

And is there not amusement to be found in baring your soul and watching someone recoil?

Scott smiles softly at the thought.

Legundo shakes his head. "I do not understand you."

Scott hums absently again, not particularly caring that either.

"What do you want done to Avid?" Legundo asks, shifting away from his discomfort.

"I'll leave that up to the town," Scott says, shrugging.

"Killed? Thrown out?" Legundo presses.

"Bit excessive. But I'm no judge or jury," Scott says, laying an elegant hand on his chest.

"Perhaps a mob is not so rational to be those either. You can understand that, at least," Legundo says, squinting.

"Hopefully knowing is enough, then," Scott says.

Avid is not bad, in the ways that he is predictable. And hatred, adoration, they are two sides of the same coin, really. Two eyes in the same head, pointed at him, him, him. Some of Avid's behavior though, it's just too far. He's meddlesome. Scott's tired towards it in his old age.

He just needs a couple pointed edges turned down.

"That girl who poisoned me, she was the first person I ever turned into a vampire, by the way," Scott says, offhandedly.

Legundo is silent, watching him watch the dribble of blood in the bottle. But on the inside of the doctor, it hits just right, Scott just knows. When Scott tips the last of the blood into his mouth, careful not to let a drop spill, Legundo keeps watching too.

Scott sets the totally empty bottle on the table beside the cot, setting a hand on his cheek.

"Thank you, doctor."

"Don't mention it," Legundo says flatly.

Hm.

"Not thanks for the assistance, then. Thanks for not letting your overwhelming hatred of me take over and allow me to die," Scott says, smiling with closed lips and a weak flutter of his eyes.

There it is. The doctor scowls again.

"I would not let someone die due to personal feelings," Legundo says.

"Very noble. Enough to fit right in with the peerage," Scott says.

Now there is true anger and hatred, beyond just a petty scowl. The man almost looks scary, truly. The way he delineates and speaks, acts, Scott thought as much that he was a soldier medic. Seems very clear here.

Scott only sets his cheek into his hand and smiles at him.

"Of course, I couldn't blame you for otherwise. You're a human doctor, aren't you?" Scott says, allowing the thread to lower. For now.

"At this point, I see no reason to delineate between the two, vampire and human, when it comes to my oaths," Legundo says.

"Oh, really? Just for your feelings," Scott says.

"I do not hate you because you are a vampire. Quite the opposite," Legundo says, straightening his creaky spine slightly. He has arthritis, Scott can tell. "I hate you for your profession. Your being a lord. You've confirmed that clearly to me."

"Mm, same difference, really," Scott says smoothly, eyes slipping away. "If anything, less so. I was born a manor lord, not a vampire. Less of a choice."

"I think there is quite a lot of choice that goes into being what you are," Legundo says.

"Do you? It's not like I'll whine about being born into the peerage, it's nothing to complain about. But it is not the sort of position that you can get in and out of through choices," Scott says.

"I disagree," Legundo throws back.

"About what? My father was a manor lord, there was nothing else to it," Scott says.

"I've seen the choices that lords make for other people. Their people. Like little more than the players of a game of chess, moving pieces around," Legundo says, disgust and hatred heavy in his tone.

Scott hums. "You mean in wars?"

Legundo does not answer. He seems to be restraining himself.

"I can't argue your analogy. But manor lords don't handle those sorts of things. Dukes and marquis do. I've never seen a battlefield, nor had any sway over one," Scott says. Really just to point out an inaccuracy in the man's statement for the hell of it.

"Yet, they were still your people who fought. This town. They must have been sent to fight," Legundo says.

"The draft? Sure. Though it's not like I was the one down in the streets pulling people from their houses. Soldiers did that, not me," Scott says.

"Soldiers following whose orders?" Legundo pushes.

"Not mine. Oakhurst is a farming town, it always has been. I had no personal soldiers. If I needed something of that proclivity done, rare as it was, I bloodied my own hands," Scott says. "Quite obvious, considering my ending fate."

"People famously rise up against kind and benevolent rulers," Legundo scoffs.

Scott smiles, liking that one. It's a good argument, but requires not shying away from the pretense of you deserved to be bodily locked in a tomb for six hundred years, starving and withering away painfully. Oh, maybe Scott does like this Doc fellow.

"No, but commoners famously don't do such things without their own leaders, either," Scott shoots back. Thrill on his tongue from a good argument. "There were other vampires in Oakhurst. Yet, none saved me from my tomb?"

Legundo's lips smooth, crooked.

"And look what's become of my town without me. If I was a cruel ruler by your uninformed opinion, fine. I can't refute a non-argument. But at least I kept them alive," Scott says, closing his eyes.

Dwindle a population too much and it will always collapse. Scott was smart enough to take that old vampire advice without needing to see it play out himself. He doesn't enjoy crawling out to find new territory and food enough to risk it.

The social game is his area of risk and reward. Obviously, he overplayed some hand. That is why he was overthrown and cursed.

Scott hates losing. His bottom lip sticks out a little.

"I'm sure all nobles say that, as they force their people into war," Legundo says roughly.

"Don't take your personal guilt out on me, just because I dress like the men that you pretend to blame," Scott says.

He says it so offhandedly that Scott can tell it takes a second to hit. Then it curdles through Legundo like poorly diluted alcohol.

"You're claiming to be innocent then?" Legundo asks, laughing a bit.

"No, of course not," Scott says, shrugging. "If I was a saint, I'm sure I would have fluttered out of my tomb right up to the Heavens, or whatever it is those fellows do."

"Hilarious," Legundo intones flatly.

"I'm no saint, but I don't think anyone here is," Scott says, scanning Legundo at the enunciated word.

It drips over the doctor like brimstone. Maybe Scott does have some of that godly love in him, after all.

With an utter snap, Scott crosses his arm and throws himself back against the top of the cot. Leaning his head back with utter casualness. The conversation done, because Scott is done having it.

"Except Shelby, probably."