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Scott didn’t really mean to come across Owen; it was just by chance.
He hears a bang behind the castle and, thinking it was the Militia, goes to investigate. It’s just his job really.
He follows the sound to a cave entrance just beyond the castle and it becomes apparent that this is not the Militia. Who is it then?
Curious which of his coven is making all the racket, Scott strides inside the cave.
It’s only a few meters and around a corner that Scott gets his answer:
On his knees, in the middle of an open area of the cave is Owen. The younger vampire has his head in his hands, and his usually immaculate hair is messy and coming free from where it’s tied at the back of his head.
Looking around Scott notes the state of this cave. The curved walls are covered in gouges and scratches, as if someone -Owen- has been making them. The damage isn't all new either, most looks at least a few days old.
Owen stiffens suddenly. "Go away."
Scott cocks his head slightly. Owen has not yet turned around. "And if I refuse?"
Nothing for a short moment, then, "You weren't supposed to see me like this." Owen's voice hitches slightly. "No one was."
As if some careful instinct takes over, Scott tuts and moves over to Owen, dropping to the ground on front of him. "That's nonsense and you know it. I might be a stone-cold bitch queen, but I still feel emotions." Scott is trying hard not to cringe at the dirt under his knees.
He's not sure where this sudden need to care for the other vampire has come from but he feels the need to act on it. "How old are you really?" Scott asked. He'd been wondering this for a while. "Don't bother lying to me."
Owen loosed a sigh. "Two hundred and twenty-eight." His voice was barely audible.
"That explains quite a lot actually." Scott mused. He was still young. In a rare display of comfort, Scott placed a hand on Owen's shoulder and squeezed gently. "And when did you lose your sire? "The main cause of a vampire being as bitter and angry as Owen is the death of a sire after all, it just made sense. "I was twenty-eight." Scott was quite surprised that Owen had told him that.
Instead of the younger vampire’s usual pushback, he just hung his head again in resignation.
Scott sighed slightly, deciding that today, Owen, despite his snark, seemed a little lost. Standing up from the dirty ground, Scott extended a pale hand to the man below him. “Walk with me. Tell me your story, help me to understand what the hell happened to make you like this.”
After a moment Owen raised his gaze and took a hold of Scott’s hand, getting to his feet.
Once out of the cave, Owen bit his lip. “It’s not a very interesting story.”
“You’re one of my own now, I would like to know.” Scott was too curious to pass up this opportunity now anyway. Owen did not seem like the type to open up often, so this moment of vulnerability mightn’t come again.
“Alright then. Suit yourself.” Again, he pauses. He doesn’t want to speak then. Scott is practically itching with impatience, despite his infinite life. “I had leprosy when I was a teenager.”
“I was- not aware of this.” Scott says carefully.
“I don’t know what the disease was like back in your times and I don’t know if they have treatment for it nowadays, but it was...” Owen shakes his head, memories flashing behind his eyes. It was obvious that the vampire has a terrible past.
Many misunderstand and think, due to the infinite lifetime of vampires, they forget things over time.
This was entirely incorrect. Vampires remember everything. Nothing, no matter how many centuries, even millennia they live, fades. It will forever haunt them, pulling the strings behind their every move, sometimes damaging them further then the world has already torn them apart.
Scott began as a spoiled noble, a richman who didn’t want to die, but over his millennia, he’s lost track of what’s right and what’s wrong. This seems to have happened to Owen rather fast, two hundred years is quite a short period for a vampire.
“I was dying.” Owen says after a moment taken to compose himself. “I-I’d become close to the town mayor, a kind man. The only man who treated me as human, not just some leper who would die anyway. Louis. He was my best friend, my only friend.” Owen released a choked sound, the strangled echo of a sob. “. He offered me a cure to my illness when I was twenty-eight. I was so close to death now and he knew it; he knew that the only way for me to live... was to live forever.”
Scott knew Owen had an eventful past but now- Now he could understand the anger.
“Louis revealed himself as a vampire to me. He told me vampirism would fix me. I was a desperate man, so I accepted his offer. He bit me and I immediately passed out. When I woke...He was gone. I never learned how, but the humans figured out who he was. They killed him for it. Burned him alive.” It was then that Owen chose to launch the rock he’d been carrying. It soared through the air, burying itself in a tree twenty-odd metres away, the bark splitting. “He was the only man I ever loved!” There was such anger in his voice that a chill shot up Scott’s spine.
So, he loved the man. Love for a Sire is a dangerous thing. Turning someone for love is even more dangerous. That is what got Louis killed. Scott has never loved, doesn’t think he’s even capable of it. This has worked in his favour for millennia.
When Owen spoke again, it was quieter. “It- it took hours for him to burn. And I wasn’t even there. I was asleep...” A brief sniffle makes Scott aware that the other, younger vampire was crying. A manic laugh slipped from Owen’s lips. “It was all my fault. If he hadn’t turned me, he’d still be here.”
“I killed them all. Every last one. 2799 of them, men, women and children alike. They all paid for his death.” Abruptly Owen stopped, leaning against a tree, his breath coming out in sharp rasps. “I’m so angry, even still.”
Scott takes a careful moment to consider his words, cautious about scaring the man away. “I want to show you somewhere.” Scott offers Owen his hand again and once the other vampire is on his feet, he turns to a bat.
>~*~<
“This is...very beautiful.” Owen mumbles. Now, they’re sitting together at the very top of a very tall tree, on a very tall cliff. From here, you can see everything. Scott has never shown anyone this place, it was always his place away from everything but showing Owen just felt right somehow. It felt like he needed something beautiful.
“It is. I used to come here to get away from everything. It’s the very same as six hundred years ago.” Scott sighs, remembering those simpler times.
For a while, the two just stare at the sky, the coming dawn apparent. “It wasn’t your fault. You know that though.” Owen opens his mouth to cut Scott off, but the older vampire holds up a hand. “No. Let me speak. You know very well that it’s not your fault and yet you still blame yourself. What do you hope to achieve? You massacred a whole village for him; you’ve mourned for 200 years. In my opinion, and I'd listen to my opinion if I were you: Let him go. Don’t forget him, he was yours but let yourself live.”
When Scott glances over, a variety of emotions are washing over Owen’s face, telling a story:
Anger, Confusion, Sadness, Grief, Betrayal, Realisation
“Would Louis really want this for you?” Scott knows this last one was a hard blow, but it is one Owen needs to hear.
“No.” Owen sounds uncertain. “Maybe he wouldn’t.”
“No? What would he want then?”
“He- he’d want me to be happy, I think." Scott feels a smile grace his lips.
"Yes, I think you're right. He gave his life for yours, don't waste it in anger." A part of his heart goes to the vampire setting next to him. He's been through so much.
When Owen finally looks away from the sunrise he looks...closer to peace. "I may have misjudged you, Scott Goldsmith." He says sincerely. "There might be a heart in you yet." His tone is cheeky.
"Nope. There's nothing left in here." Scott smiles sadly, holding a hand to his chest. "You don't need to end up like me, incapable of feeling. You still have time."
Sadness flits across Owens features again and he wonders if its for him this time. "Thanks Scott."
"No problem." Scott smirks, showing his fangs. "One other thing, less scratching walls. You're no cat and it destroys your nails."