Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bloodshed that comes with war never really leaves a person. It clings to them, sticking under their nails and in the crevices of skin, not quite washing out.

It was a tale Legundo was far too familiar with, and one Apokuna seemed to be still learning the words to. 

It was evident on his companion’s face as they pushed between the brush and thick trees of the dark forest, their dark brown eyes darting around, pointed ears perking up at the smallest noise.

Legs wasn’t familiar with these woods, but he knew how to smell a threat from a mile away, and that was the important part. She was still young—practically a fledgling, still jumping at shadows.

He couldn’t blame her. It’d taken him longer to find the rhythm of moving on that substituted for whatever heartbeat lay silent in his chest, and whether that was the thrum of war drums or footsteps against the earth, seventy years of that silence still hadn’t granted him the clarity.

Not like his own general had been much help in that. She wasn’t really the nurturing type, even till her grave.

He remembered feeling her death. Even if the bond barely existed, it was still there enough to be snapped like a guitar string, reverberating at the base of his skull.

The trees eventually gave way to a path, to walls of a ruined settlement abandoned lifetimes ago.

Oakhurst.

“You ready?” he asked Apo, who seemed relieved at the sight of the ruined town. Adjusting the bag on their shoulder, she nodded.

“Just glad they’re putting my specialties to use for once.”

Legs nodded. He couldn’t say the same—there was more use for a doctor on a battlefield than an abandoned settlement, but a break from the bloodshed was nicer than he would admit to anyone else.

Seventy years and he still wanted to permanently wash the coppery taste from his mouth after every bite.

Maybe that’s why they had been paired together.

He knew about Apo’s blood aversion—he hadn’t been there when she was turned, saving their life from a wildcat attack in the mountains, but he was one of the first to know outside the unit, one of his fledglings taking the step to bring her back.

The degrees of connection were there; they both knew it, but it wasn’t something they talked about.

It didn’t take them long to reach the walls of the town. Unlike the buildings inside, they seemed to be well enough intact.

One less thing for them to take care of.

As soon as they stepped through the threshold of the walls, Legs stopped, sticking an arm out to stop Apo as well.

Heartbeats.

Human heartbeats.

At least three.

At first, he had thought it was just stray cattle, maybe a few pigs, but having gotten closer, they were distinctly human.

Apo’s ears twitched slightly before she pulled their red hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall over their pointed ears. There wasn’t anything Legs could do about his own ears, or what either of them could do with the red that plagued their eyes, but they’d just have to hope whoever was here was an unobservant lot.

“-ook, I’ve got garlic seeds!” their voices started coming into range as they made it further into the town, seeing the group of three around the edge of one of the ruined buildings.

“Oh, that’s very good,” one of them nodded at the purple-eyed man whose hands were cupped together, assumedly holding garlic seeds.

He hadn’t thought garlic would be rampant here, considering the vampric history of the place.

“Hello?” Legs’ voice cut through their conversation, drawing the attention of the trio.

“Oh? Hello!” the purple-eyed one looked directly at them, shifting the seeds into one hand before waving

The one closest to them brightened slightly, taking a step closer. “Oh, townsfolk! Hello!”

“Oh, uh, we aren’t-” Apo started, clearing their throat slightly, her gaze flickering over them. “We’re not from here. And I’m guessing you three aren’t either?”

The one in an oddly formal suit nodded. “All of us just arrived.”

“Yeah, erm, this place is…” Legs’ eyes flitted around the ruined buildings. 

“Yeah, its kind of the pits.” the one with the blue eyes agreed. “Apologies—I’m M! Maybe you’ve read one of my books!”

Apo and Legs shared a look. 

It was going to be a long few weeks.

——————————————————————

By Legs’ count, there were a total of fourteen people in Oakhurst, counting himself and Apo within that number.

Which was twelve more than there were supposed to ever be.

Most of them were… fine. A bit kooky, a few snobbish, and one…

Well, he wasn’t sure what to make of Owen.

Except that he reeked of fledgling.

He was surprised Apo hadn’t even noticed, it was almost overwhelming.

Then again, to his knowledge, Apo hadn’t sired anyone before.

Maybe they couldn’t smell it.

Legs glanced up at the sky, at the slowly setting sun, before looking back at Apo. “I think I’m going to stretch my legs a bit.”

She looked back at him, her eyebrows raised. Glancing around, they lowered their voice before talking. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’ll be fine. Just—cover for me, alright?”

Apo hesitated before nodding, and Legs took off, exiting the town and making a beeline for the trees. For most of the day he had managed to remain in the shade of the ruined buildings, but the sun wasn’t completely avoidable, to the point where he was surprised nobody had heard his skin sizzling under the sunlight.

Once he it the treeline, he broke off into a sprint, squeezing his eyes shut before feeling his bones shift. His ribcage widened, and all of his joints popped at once as he morphed into a mountain cat, paws heavy against the damp ground as he wove between trees.

Nobody had expected it after he first turned—usually the different ability was something more mental, or just something they could do. None of them had heard of vampires being able to take other forms.

Legs only had the one other, but that was enough for him. It made hunting… easier.

His steps slowed, and his large form slunk between the trees, quiet against the ground before his narrowed gaze landed on a cow. With the sun gone, red light filtered through the trees from the moon, which struck him as odd, but he filed it away as something to deal with later.

He padded closer to the oblivious cow before making his move, pouncing on the animal, his teeth, cutting through its neck. Sweet, coppery blood filled his maw, and it didn’t take long for him to drain the animal.

It felt more natural this way. How it was supposed to be.

This way, the metallic taste didn’t fill him with guilt and memory.

Grabbing its leg between his teeth, he dragged the cow away to flatter ground before a sharp, piercing sound rang through the air, rattling his skull and making him drop it.

Apo.

The other vampire had been given a supersonic whistle, something only the vampires could hear, which she had said acted almost as a form of echolocation, but over their time together they had developed a sort of code from it.

Solid note, slightly higher solid note.

Information.

Abandoning the carcass, Legs sprinted through the woods, zeroed in on where the call had come from, barely needing to pick up on her scent from how close everything was.

He skidded to a stop at the edge of the treeline, lingering along the edge as he spotted Apo on the trail, the blood red light barely coloring them any different.

Her eyes landed on him, and they shifted slightly as he stepped out of the trees, morphing back mid step before wiping away the dried blood he could feel clinging to his face.

Apo looked away, her eyes going up to the moon. “There’s another vampire.”

Legs blew out a breath.  Thank God she knew. “I was wondering if you had noticed.”

“How could I not? That pompous asshole barely hid it.”

He paused, a frown crossing his face.

Pompous asshole?

Owen wasn’t a pompous asshole.

“Apo… Who are you talking about?”

She frowned back. “Scott? Who were you?”

“Owen.”

“Owen?”

“He smells like a fledgling!”

“How did you not notice Scott? He has no heartbeat and is barely trying to hide it!”

Both of them paused.

There were two other vampires in this town.

Two other vampires, in a town of fourteen, where it was supposed to be a town of zero.

Fuck.

“HELP!”

Both of their heads shot up at the faint yelling from the trees. They could pick up on the bone cracking of skeletons and the faint moaning of zombies, but the yelling was unmistakable.

The two of them broke off into a sprint, weaving through trees. Legs knew the voice from town, but with how many people he had met, he didn’t know who it was. He was always better at faces than voices.

It didn’t take either of them long to find the source of the voices, the grouping of mobs immediately scattering at their darker presences.

And in the middle of them, bleeding out into the grass, was Pearl.

Admittedly, Legs didn’t actually know anything about Pearl except that she was rooming with Cleo, and that…

Well, that her name was Pearl.

A large chunk had been taken out of her shoulder, and an arrow stuck out from her ribs, blood seeping through her tunic.

Apo’s hands immediately went to her mouth, their eyes darting away. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

First night and people were already dying.

He couldn’t let that happen.

After death, Legs had been trained into the role of a medic, treating those who could be treated, and saving the near dead with… other means.

He had left his supplies back at the startings of his residence, and she was loosing too much blood.

There was only one option.

His feet carried him across the small clearing, crouching down beside Pearl. Her blue eyes flickered open briefly, her pupils unfocused and staring up at the reddend sky.

He didn’t have much time.

Before he could think twice about his, his mouth clamped onto her neck, teeth puncturing the flesh, and he started to drink.

There hadn’t been much blood left to take, but that wasn’t really the point. It was what came after.

It had only taken a minute to take effect, the woman’s eyes blinking open almost immediately after he had pulled away, wiping the blood from his face for the second time in the past ten minutes.

The muscle and skin tissue of her shoulder had already started knitting itself back together, and he wrapped his hand firmly around the shaft of the arrow in her chest before pulling it out.

“Legs, what did you do?” Apo stared at him with wide eyes as he stood.

Right. This conversation.

“We didn’t have time, Apo. Was I supposed to just let her die here?” Legs gestured to the bloodstained grass around his feet that seemed to circle Pearl. 

“You can’t just do that.” she hissed. “We already have to deal with Owen and Scott, you think another vampire is a good idea?”

“I did what I know how to do, Apo.” 

“What did you do?”

The two of them immediately turned. Pearl was sitting up now, staring at them unblinking, her eyes wide.

“What did you do?”

Chapter Text

Legs managed to drag the cow’s carcass back to the clearing that Apo and Pearl had remained in. Pearl was still sitting in the blood-soaked grass where she died, which was… a choice.

Definately a choice.

Apo made a beeline towards him, her voice lowered. “We need to talk.”

He sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like turning people. Trust me, I know. If there had been any other opt-”

They shook their head. “That’s not what I mean.” His eyes flickered back to Pearl, who had already torn off a chunk of the cow. “Legs, she already has claws.”

He frowned. “That’s not possible. We don’t get claws until stage two.”

“I know that,” they gave him a look. “That doesn’t change that she has claws. Legs!”

He looked back at Pearl, who seemed more focused on eating rather than what they were talking about. Sure enough, her nails had sharpened and darkened at the tips, almost resembling talons or claws.

Legs would’ve assumed it was her extra quirk, like Apo’s whistle or him being able to turn into a wildcat, but those also didn’t surface until stage two.

What the hell was going on? 

He shook his head slightly. “You should eat. I know you haven’t in a while.”

“Legs-”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

——————————————————————

If Legs had been able to physically sleep, he knew he wouldn’t have gotten any that night. 

Five vampires in a town of fourteen.

Another fledgling to his own brood.

Not that they were much of a traditional brood anyway—he hadn’t seen any of his fledglings in months, and he had eleven of them.

Twelve, now.

Thirteen, if he was counting Apo.

He wasn’t sure if he was counting her, yet. Wasn’t sure if they would want that.

Legs had managed to get a good start of what he could consider a house done. He hadn’t expected Apo to stay close, but he also hadn’t expected them to room with one of the townsfolk.

Pyro.

That’s what his name was.

He hadn’t talked much to the scholar, listening more than anything. Listening became something he was quite good at, balancing heartbeats with words and footsteps around each corner.

Heartbeats spoke more than words did, anyways.

Especially the lack of.

Legs wasn’t sure how he missed the lack of a beating heart in Scott originally, but it was deafeningly obvious now. He could almost feel the absence when he, Apo, and Pearl made it back to Oakhurst, just as Scott was leaving with Pyro and Owen.

Owen…

He was still a mystery to the doctor as well. He wasn’t Scott’s fledgling, that much he could tell, and it left him stumped that there was nothing else for him to go off of.

Living in close quarters with other vampires with strong sire bonds made him used to being able to infer more about the connections.

He’d just have to find out the old fashioned way.

Time passed faster than he would’ve preferred it to, the blood-red night cut through by whatever sunlight could make it through the thick overcast that made its way over Oakhurst, coloring most things a dull grey.

“Wow, doc, did you get any sleep last night?” Avid’s eyebrows shot up as he walked over to Legs’ house. “This place looks great.”

“Just a bit.” he lied, looking back up at the building. “Thank you, Avid.”

Legs was, expectedly, weary of the vampire hunter. He was loud and a bit brash at times, but not really a threat.

He was more worried that someone else might silence him instead.

“Of course!”

“Hey, doc?” both he and Avid turned around at Pearl’s voice, her gaze shifting between the two of them. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Legs glanced at Avid briefly before looking back at her. “Of course,” he pushed open the door to his house. “Avid, mind if we–”

“Yes! Yeah, go ahead—doctor-patient confidentiality or whatever, right?” the purple-eyed vampire hunter nodded almost a bit too eagerly before speedwalking away.

Legs and Pearl shared a look before the two of them stepped inside of his house, the door swinging shut behind them.

Her eyes scanned the room before looking back at him. “Someone’s been busy.”

“Well, vampires don’t really sleep.” he crossed the room, opening one of his chests. “But I’m guessing you already figured that out.”

“Yeah…” she scuffed at the floor with her boot. “Anything else you want to give me a heads up on?”

“A list, actually.” he pulled a notebook out from the chest before closing it, turning back to her.

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

Legs nodded. “You think this is the first time I’ve done this?”

Pearl opened her mouth to say something before promptly deciding otherwise.

He flipped open the notebook. “How much do you already know about vampires?”

She shrugged. “I mean, my knowledge mainly lies with werewolves, so not much.”

Legs looked up, arching an eyebrow “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Might need to trade notes on that. Alright, granted that your entire now-defuncnt respiratory system and overally body just went through an entire reset due to dying and coming back, there’s definately going to be a large adjustment period that you’ve no doubt already started. For a while, you’re still going to feel exhausted at night due to your body trying to get used to no longer having to abide by a circadian rhythm. 

“Your body rejects normal food now, but if you start by trying to only process blood, your body’s going to reject that as well. Usually functioning off of some type of flesh for the first week or so helps, probably either pig or cow-”

“Okay, hold on, slow down.” Pearl cut him off, and Legs looked back up from the notebook. “I say this with a lot of respect, Doc, but please give me information that is useful to me right now.”

“Oh. Right.” he flipped back through a few more pages. “There are three main vampric stages in a life cycle, but if under certain circumstances there’s a rumored fourth, though I have yet to see that. Sunlight shouldn’t be too much of a bother until you’re stage two, so you’re fine for now.” he momentarily thought about going over all the powers stage-by-stage, but figured that wasn’t something actually urgent. “Physically you can still pass as human, although melanin production does slow due to the fact that you’re essentially a corpse now. As you get higher in stages, it’s going to be a lot harder to hide.”

“Is that why your eyes are like that?” Pearl asked. “The reddish-grey color?”

Legs nodded. “Yeah. Mine were green before.”

“Huh.”

“Moving on,” he flipped past more pages, closer to the back of the notebook. “Emotionally, everything is going to be dialed up a lot more. I’m not actually sure why it’s like that—the mind isn’t something I specialize in—but everything you feel, you’re going to feel a lot more. Emotions, urges, impulsive thoughts are stronger as well.”

By the spirits, he knew that all too well.

“What about garlic?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or has everything Avid’s been yelling about been wrong?”

“Garlic’s not good. It won’t kill you, but eating it makes you more nauseous than any other human foods and if you try drinking from someone after they’ve had garlic its… very unpleasant.” he cringed slightly before shaking his head slightly. “Also, we don’t really… die.”

Pearl paused. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I mean, not by normal means. Falling, being stabbed, burned, it still kills us, but we don’t die. We just… come back. We can only really die if we get stabbed with a stake.”

“...The food?”

“No! A wooden one!” he smacked her arm with the notebook lightly. “Why would it be the food?”

“I figured I’d ask for clarification!”

A knock on the door interrupted the two of them, and they immediately froze.

The knocking stopped, and there was a sigh. “Guys it’s me.”

Apo.

“Oh, yeah, come in.” he called back, and they pushed open the door, stepping in. “You’re always allowed in here. Both of you.”

Apo paused. “...Thank you.” they shook her head slightly. “That’s not why I’m here. It’s Pyro.”

Legs frowned. “What about them?”

“His heartbeat is gone. Scott—or Owen—turned them.”

“Hold on—Scott and Owen are also vampires?” Pearl interrupted.

Apo frowned. “You didn’t tell her?”

“I hadn’t gotten there yet!” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s besides the point anyways. They turned him?”

They nodded. “I don’t think any of them know about us, though. Or, if they do, they aren’t letting us know.”

Six vampires in a town of fourteen.

…Fuck.

Chapter Text

Legs already knew the moment Avid suggested a house judging competition that it would only end terribly. 

And boy, was he right.

Not only was the sun especially irritating that morning, but Avid decided to judge houses in terms of “vampire-safety”, which already made him want to run into the woods in his wildcat form to never return.

And then Scott turned into a swarm of bats.

Legs had no idea how he got away with saying it was a bat infestation, and he saw an equally incredulous look from Apo as everyone else swatted at the bats with their swords, shooing the brood away. 

They were all barely two days into living here, and almost half the town is made up of vampires, and everyone’s going mad.

He quickly found himself beyond the walls of the town and deep into the woods, the heavy paws of his wildcat form thudding against the forest floor as he wove through the thicket of trees. Beams of dull sunlight peeked through leaves, barely lighting the forest as his surroundings passed in a blur.

Legs’ pace slowed as the trees began to thin out before the ground dropped in front of him into a cliff overlooking a river. Ways away was a collapsing bridge that crossed the expanse, leading to the ruins of what appeared to be an old castle or manor. He recalled Drift mentioning it the day prior, that she and Pearl had gone exploring and stumbled across it.

Interesting…

Footsteps in the grass caught his attention, and he immediately turned around, his sharpened eyes landing on Owen.

Legs wasn’t quite sure why he had been surprised to see him. He was a lumberjack (among other things), why wouldn’t he be in the woods?

Owen tilted his head to the side slightly, narrowing his brown eyes. “You can’t fool me with shapeshifting. Wildcats aren’t native to Oakhurst.”

…Fuck. Right.

He padded closer, shifting to slowly circle the other vampire.

Owen didn’t know who he was.

…Probably.

“I doubt you can stay in that form forever,” he continued, keeping his gaze locked on him. “We’re both the same here for now. I don’t see why you feel the need to keep yourself hidden.”

By the time Legs had circled behind Owen, he shifted back into his normal form, rolling his shoulders slightly. “I think you know why.”

Owen spun around, the two of them making eye contact again. “Doc.”

“Owen.”

“I… can’t say I was expecting that,” he hummed, tossing his axe slightly before catching it in the same hand. “I know there’s another one of you. Who is it?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Surprised you’re not with Scott and Pyro. Shouldn’t you be watching your fledgling?” Legs arched an eyebrow at him.

Owen shook his head. “Pyro belongs to Scott, not me.”

Well, there’s the answer to that question.

“Why are you really here, Doc?” the lumberjack tilted his head slightly. “I doubt it’s for some military mission.”

“It is, actually.” he corrected. “We caught wind of Oakhurst’s… vampric history, and they sent Apo and I.”

“So Apo’s the other vampire.”

Legs shook his head. “They think it’s a bunch of bogus.” a feeble lie—Apo had been more excited for the trip than he was, if he was being any modicum of honest. After being turned, her projects hadn’t been… to her specific specialties.

“C’mon, Doc, I know you can lie better than that. You can at least try to be convincing.” Owen swung his axe into the trunk of a nearby tree, the stone firmly embedding itself into the wood. “So the military uses vampires. Didn’t think they’d resort to that.”

“Man resorts to anything when faced with war.” Legs stepped around Owen, pulling the axe out of the tree with ease, feeling the weight of it in his hand. “So, what parts of your backstory were true?”

He paused. “Just push the story back another two hundred years. I did live here, before I killed everyone.”

A beat of silence followed, and he wordlessly held the axe back out to Owen, almost dropping it at the sharp tug in the back of his mind.

Pearl.

Something was wrong.

The other vampire must’ve noticed the look that crossed his face after taking the axe, frowning. “What’s up with you?”

Legs didn’t bother with a response, shifting into his bat form and soaring above the trees, the swarm of bats that came from it scattering. He could hear the beat of wings behind him as he mentally zoned in on where the hell the tug came from.

East. In the woods, hard left off the trail.

Part of him knew flying towards the situation with Owen on his tail would immediately out Pearl as a vampire to him, but that was at the bottom of his list of worries at that moment.

He dove down through the trees, branches and leaves brushing at his wings as he shifted back to normal, his feet hitting the grass. 

Legs’ gaze immediately landed on Pearl, in a small clearing between trees. Her sleeve was stained red, and she was staring at the cut as her skin knitted back together over it.

“Pearl!” he pushed through the trees and into the clearing, already trying to ignore the sizzling of his skin from the light.

Her head darted up, eyes wide. “Wh- how did you get here?”

“You were in danger, so I flew,” he shrugged.

“...Is that a doctor thing or a vampire thing?”

“A sire thing, actually,”  a new voice interrupted, and Legs spun around, seeing Scott at the edge of the treeline, just out of the sun. He leaned dramatically against the trunk of one of the large dark oaks, one foot crossed in front of the other, smirking.

Of fucking course.

“So you’re the one who sired her,” the teal-haired vampire hummed. “Honestly, I had my money on Apo. Thought they might’ve done it out of desperation, but you…”

His gaze flickered back to the treeline, to the bat perched on one of the branches, head tilted slightly.

Owen? Or maybe Pyro?

He had no way of telling who was there and who wasn't, in a clearing devoid of heartbeats.

A clearing devoid of life.

“Can I help you, Scott?” Legs narrowed his eyes, instinctively shifting in front of Pearl.

“Oh, please,” Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to do anything. I’m rich and pretty, not stupid.” he tilted his head slightly. “You’re a higher stage than me, for now. I’m nothing but patient.”

The bat behind Scott shifted into Owen, who remained perched on the branch, watching silently. His dark brown eyes bore into Legs from over Scott’s shoulder, almost hollow.

“Might want to watch your fangs, Scott.” he warned, eyes flickering back to the teal-haired vampire. “I don’t think flashing them would do any good.”

“All in due time, doctor.” Scott hummed. “You’ll see.”

With the final words, bats dispersed into the clearing, and Scott was gone.

Pearl’s gaze went to Owen. “Why are you still here?”

“...Just watching.” he mused, not moving from his perch on the tree. “I don’t think making an enemy out of a Goldsmith would be a good idea for you two.”

Goldsmith?

…Why is that familiar?

Chapter Text

Legs often ached for the quiet release of a slumber he hadn’t experienced. A temporary break from his surroundings, something.

But even when he was alive, it was anything but.

Visions of gunfire and blood had plagued his thoughts after his first mission, and even before that, he hadn’t been the most sound sleeper.

Even before the atrocities, his mind had ebbed with thoughts of vile nature. If anything, actually committing them put them to rest and gave him an inkling of peace.

Not that the peace lasted long.

It was always his morals that brought the guilt in waves, when the moon was high and the memories of his actions were clearer.

If there was something he had to hate the most about vampirism, it was how clear it made everything. Not just his surroundings, but his memories, too. Every single one was as clear as the day he remembered it, unable to be covered by the passage of time.

He knew he deserved it.

It had happened less after Apo had been turned. After he stuck by them, something had changed.

Maybe it was that she was the only vampire he knew that hadn’t been turned on the front lines, amidst a war that had since lost all meaning among the bloodshed and gunpowder.

Or maybe the universe had finally decided he had suffered long enough. 

Legs always assumed the former—no suffering was enough to atone for his sins, for the suffering and carnage that followed in his footsteps.

Carnage that seemed to have stopped at the door to Oakhurst, waiting.

Asking to be let in.

He wouldn’t let it in.

Not again.

His notebook sat open on his desk, pages empty as he stared down at them, pen hovering over the page. The oil lamp flickered beside him from where it was sat on his windowsil. He had been staring at the same pages for hours now, blood red light coloring the rest of the room like bloodstained water.

Over the years—the decades of being in the military, journaling might’ve been the only thing that had kept him sane.

Yet now, it seemed like his inkwell had run dry.

He let the pen clatter to his desk before pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

There was no point.

A small…tapping sound on the window stirred him from his thoughts, and his hands dropped, vision darting to the window beside him.

The silhouette of a bat perched on the windowsill, wings resting low, watching with…

Curiosity?

It wasn’t Apo. He was familiar with their bat form. It was darker and a bit smaller than this one, her dark maroon eyes easily standing out from the black fur. This bat was a dark brown, with matching deep eyes that didn’t seem to blink.

He paused before standing up, reaching to open the window inward. “You can come in.”

The bat darted in, flying a few laps around the perimeter of the room before landing, shifting into their human form.

And in front of Legs stood Owen, his dark cloak still pulled over his shoulders, almost identical to the fur of his bat form.

“Doctor.”

“Owen,”  he turned to close the window before facing him again. “What brings you?”

He shrugged loosely. “Sausage snores.”

“Not like you were sleeping anyway.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Owen’s gaze went to the oil lamp on the desk, the flickering firelight dancing in his eyes. “Makes it hard to think, though.”

Then why come here?

Out of anywhere in Oakhurst.

“I can imagine,” he nodded slightly. “Though I can’t say that answers my question.” 

Owen didn’t acknowledge the statement, eyes flickering from the fire to the other window, which looked down into town. Aside from a few well-placed torches, the town was dark, bathed in the same crimson moonlight.

Legs wasn’t sure what Owen’s motives were. Over the past few decades, it had become… easier, to find out. Ask the right questions, watch for tells, read them.

It was harder when he couldn’t hear the speed of their heart or see the darting of their eyes. Owen might’ve smelled like a fledgling, but he had the stature of a much older vampire. Any involuntary movements once needed for a living body long since faded.

That hadn’t even happened to him until twenty years ago. 

When around civilians or others who were… uninformed of the existence of vampires, he had to remember those movements, make them voluntarily.

Breathe.

Blink.

Swallow.

Drink water, eat food.

Throw it up after.

Repeat.

Owen didn’t even seem to bother.

How had nobody else noticed?

“You have a staring problem, doctor.” 

Legs snapped out of his thoughts, drawing his gaze away from Owen and back to the window. “Merely observing.”

“Do that often?”

“I’m a doctor. Of course I do.”

Owen looked at him, tilting his head slightly. “And what do you see?”

Bandages.

Young face, near-ancient eyes.

A slight crook to his nose—as if broken and not healed right.

Calloused fingertips, either from scars or from work.

Loose cuticles around the fingernails. He had been a level two at some point. The claws are gone, but the skin still thinks they’re there.

A few strands of silver hair, almost lost in the sea of brown curls. Not from vampirism or age. Stress, most likely. They stuck out a bit more from his hair than the rest, stiffer from lack of pigmentation.

Two neat pinpricks on the side of his neck, just above the start of more bandages. Gentle. Patient.

Willing.

“...Enough.”

——————————————————————

Legs knew the memories would be coming eventually. Every time, it took a bit, but every time, they still came with the same clarity.

This one started with steel cutting through flesh.

Pearl wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, her eyes focusing back on her target. The werewolf roared, baring its large teeth at her. Its claws dug into the dirt before it pounced, launching its large form at her.

She shifted her stance—heel of her back foot digging into the ground as she ducked, leaving her sword raised high as the beast soared above her. The steel cut through the underbelly, crimson blood spilling from skin and fur, raining down on top of her.

Pearl never liked the feeling of blood, but it was a hazard of the job.

The werewolf let out a strangled growl as it landed with a thud, rolling off its shoulder before standing back up, favoring its back left leg. Blood stained the grass below the creature, gushing from its belly.

Almost done.

Legs blinked, his vision clearing. Owen had left ages ago, the sun now climbing up above the horizon and chasing the red shadows of the night into the corners of the room and the shadows of buildings.

It always seemed he couldn’t shake the violent types..

Chapter Text

Legs had finally found something he could write about, and for the first time in a while, it wasn’t about present events.

It was what he got from Pearl’s memory.

The thing about memories was that it wasn’t just the sight he got. Smells, sounds, tastes, thoughts, everything.

And Pearl knew a lot about Werewolves.

It had taken a while for him to actually process the information before being able to write it all down, the sun high in the sky, streaming in through the window. Every few moments, he adjusted how he sat to stay out of the way of the sunrays, no matter how much the clouds shaded it.

Better to be safe than sorry.

Legs’ thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, ringing out from the bottom floor of the house.

Right.

“Just a minute,” he called out, pushing out his chair and getting up before climbing down the ladder to the ground floor.

“Doctor? Are ye in there?” The voice of Renhardt came from outside, muffled from the door.

Legs pulled it open, coming face-to-face with the man. “Yeah, I’m here. Is everything okay?”

“Fear not, doctor, all is well! A few of us were about to go out and find some beacons, don’tcha know, and Avid wanted to know if ye wanted to join?”

Beacons.

Right.

Legs wasn’t quite sure what to make of them yet. Obviously, he felt less than great when the one in town had become imbued with holy power, and he often found himself skirting out of range of it so it wouldn’t feel worse, but other than that…

He had no idea what the fuck they were. Only a small feeling at the pit of his stomach that he should stay far, far away from them.

“I think I’ll stay back. Just in case.”

Ren nodded. “Of course. Figured I’d offer it to ye regardless.”

“Have a good trip.”

The man smiled back before walking away towards Avid, Sausage, and Martyn.

Hm.

“Hey, Doc?”

He turned, spotting Pyro as he carefully approached. His eyes nervously darted around before focusing back in on him. “Can we talk? Alone?”

“Of course,” the answer was almost automatic. “Come in.” 

Legs pulled the door open more, and Pyro took a tentative step inside before almost immediately relaxing, fully stepping into his house. “I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“About vampirism?” he guessed. 

“I- yes, actually.” Pyro glanced around nervously. “Scott isn’t the most… forthcoming about all of this. Like, he told me the basics, but it still feels like something’s missing.”

Legs paused.

Wasn’t that a familiar tune.

“I’ll answer your questions to the best of my ability. Just, give me a moment.”

He climbed up the ladder to the second floor and retrieved one of his notebooks, flipping through it briefly before bringing it back downstairs.

Pyro was still standing just outside the doorway, fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket, seemingly out of habit.

“You ready?”

He looked back at Legs. “Oh, erm, yeah. First off, do claws hurt? I know the fangs didn’t really, but you have claws and Apo does too I think so I just thought I’d ask.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “...Do they hurt.”

“Like, growing in. Is it painful?”

“Oh.” Legs paused. “It was a while since mine grew in, but they don’t initially hurt. Claws are retractable,” he demonstrated with his own, his nails lengthening to about half the length of his fingers before retracting back into the nailbed. “And your cuticles and fingers aren’t used to that type of movement, so only when they come out and retract for the first few days, just until they’ve had time to adjust.”

Pyro blinked at the onslaught of new information. “...Wow.” they shook their head slightly. “What about the sun? Is it gonna kill me? Do I genuinely have to worry about dying from vitamin D intake?”

He shook his head. “No, it won't kill you. As a stage one, you’re completely safe from the sun, but as you get more powerful, the sun starts to hurt, like a continuous sunburn. It’s also not the vitamin D that’s hurting us, it's the UV rays.” Legs was slightly impressed that Pyro actually knew what Vitamin D was. Not many people actually did.

“Stages?” the scholar raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. “There are three stages to vampirism, with a rumored fourth that hasn’t actually been properly confirmed but heavily speculated. As you get stronger and drink more blood, you obtain more abilities, but certain things also harm you more, like the sun and garlic.”

Pyro seemed to deflate slightly at that. “God, I’m going to miss Italian food.”

Legs laughed at the sentiment. “Even if you could have garlic, our bodies can’t process human food properly without making us sick.”

“...Damn.”

——————————————————————

Legs had never really spotted a specific pattern when it came to nesting, among himself or others. There was never really time to in the military.

The first time he had nested was a few days after he met Apo, and the day after Doovid had died.

Doovid had been the fledgling of his that turned Apo, after they had been attacked by a mountain cat. He had been in the area with a different unit, within range to feel the turning of a new fledgling, and his transfer request had been granted when they crossed paths.

Two days later, they came across a troupe of vampire hunters. They were rare, but not unheard of.

Legs didn’t know how they had found out about the military’s usage of vampires, but they had, and it came at the cost of his own fledgling.

After they were all dead and the sun had set, they had set up camp for the night, and both of them had been equally surprised when Apo showed up at his tent with their bedroll in hand.

Tonight was no different.

Legs had felt the same distinct tug, almost at the base of his throat, and he had started making preparations.

Neither of them owned much in regard to bedding—just their bedrolls and an extra blanket when nights grew cold, so it wasn’t the most… optimal situation, but it was better than nothing.

What he hadn’t been expecting was for Pearl to show up with Apo. In hindsight, it should’ve been obvious—she was one of his fledglings now, too. 

Pearl glanced between Apo and Legs from where the two of them stood in the doorway, a folded blanket tucked under her arm and knitting needles clutched in her hands with a ball of yarn. “...I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Come in,” he said as he opened the door wider, and the two of them stepped in. He had already given Apo permanent permission to come into his house whenever they needed to, but the habit still seemed to stick.

“Another… less commonly known thing about vampires is our nesting habits,” he explained to Pearl, Apo already making a beeline for the ladder.

She frowned. “Like… birds?”

Legs paused. “...Not exactly. It’s more of a common thing with vampire broods for energy replenishment. Admittedly, I’m not that well-versed on how it works.”

He had never actually had a brood before.

He shared a sire with other vampires, sure, but General Anya wasn’t the most… involved sire. Within their company, there wasn’t time or space for those types of instinctual habits to form, as they were constantly on the move.

“Oh.” Pearl’s gaze went to the ladder that led upstairs, where Apo’s muffled footsteps could be heard above them. “You said vampires don’t sleep, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we don’t. I think it’s just proximity.”

“Right. Up we go, I guess.” 

Legs let her go up the ladder first, taking another glance around the bottom floor before untying the back of his surgeon's robes, stepping out of it, before neatly folding it up and setting it next to the basin on the floor, leaving him in his brown knit sweater and trousers.

When he reached the top of the ladder, he could see that Apo had already started setting up the nest, taking his blanket from the cot and her own, and rearranging them on the floor in an almost semi-circle shape against the wall, two slightly flattened pillows propped up against the walls of it.

Pearl stood off to the side, giving Apo space to work before unfolding her peach colored blanket and laying it down in the center, covering the wooden floor within the nest.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to get situated within the small nest. Pearl’s knitting needles clacked quietly from beside Legs as he thumbed through his notebook, scouring for the next blank page within it. Apo was silently reading on the other side of him, slouched down, and had pulled Pearl’s blanket over their lap.

The proximity to them had brought a different kind of comfort to Legs. A kind of comfort he hadn’t felt in decades, like all the stirring in his chest had finally come to a slow, finally resting.

Him and his girls.

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the back of his psyche, part of Legs knew that he couldn’t leave Oakhurst. Since entering upon the town, since the consecration of the beacon, there had been a… shift.

Something was trying to block the ties he had with his fledglings. Not completely, but enough to notice. 

So when several of the townsfolk came back from trying to leave with news that they couldn’t, he only wished he could be surprised.

He batted at a chicken with one of his paws, instantly killing it. Chickens were easy to drain, though not always… fulfilling. Easier to kill without anyone noticing, too.

Someone in town had started keeping animals, and the existence of those pens happened to work as an early warning system for whenever he let himself get too hungry. 

Shifting back into his human form, Legs managed to stuff the drained chicken carcass into his emptied bag (that he’d definitely have to sanitize later) before starting on the path back to town. Normally, coming back with a dead chicken wasn’t suspicious, but his method of killing animals was… 

Definately irregular.

He didn’t want anyone asking questions about it.

Stepping back into town, he made a beeline for Apo and Pyro’s house, glancing around before knocking on the door.

Legs wasn’t sure why he was surprised when Pyro answered the door. They did also live there.

“Oh, Doc.” The other vampire shifted almost uncomfortably.

“Pyro,” he nodded politely. “...Is Apo home?”

“They just stepped out.” 

Legs saw his gaze drop to his bag.

“...There’s chicken in there, isn’t there.” It wasn’t a question.

“...Yeah.”

“Do you normally walk around with chicken in your bag?” Pyro asked.

“It’s for Apo.” 

A beat of silence fell upon the two as they both stood on opposite sides of the doorway.

“...I think I should get go-”

“Hey, Doc.” Both Legs and Pyro turned their heads, seeing Apo approaching. “Forgot my shovel. What’s going on?”

“This is for you.” He removed his bag from across his shoulder and held it out to her by the strap.

“Oh.” They looked at the bag before taking it, holding the leather strap in an almost white-knuckle grip. “Thanks.”

He nodded.

——————————————————————

Legs went back out into the woods again that night, the red moon hanging high above him as he stalked through the tall grass, gaze focused on another chicken. 

His hunger was already satiated, and he knew Apo would be fine.

He also knew Pyro wasn’t his fledgling—Scott’s mark on him was far too obvious now. It had a much richer smell, like aged wine. From what he had seen so far, he doubted Scott was actually a good sire, especially with Pyro having to come to him for answers.

You’d think he’d know how to take care of a fledgling with how fucking ancient he was.

He wasn’t certain about how old the vampire was, but after a certain point, you can just tell they’re on the older side.

Legs pounced forward, ensnaring the chicken in his teeth. It let out one last cracking squawk before falling limp in his jaws.

Setting the carcass down, he shifted back into his humanoid form, crouching down beside it and opening his bag. Apo had gotten it back to him earlier, and it was still damp from when he had soaked it in the basin that he kept in his house.

He’d have to do that all over again.

He could deal with it.

Slinging the bag back over his shoulder, he faded into his surroundings, invisibility overtaking him as he made his way back to town, his footsteps quiet against the grass.

He could hear the muffled voices coming from houses as he silently passed through the town, making a beeline for Apo and Pyro’s cabin, which remained one of the few silent structures that night.

Nobody was home.

Legs rounded the side of the building, noticing the open window. He made sure the bag was closed before tossing it through, the bag landing on the wooden floor, a few feathers spilling out.

Hopefully it gets to him.

His eyes landed on his own house, only a few strides away.

He should write.

Before he could step foot towards his residence, a deep tug pulled at his gut from behind him, almost like a safety rope.

New Blood.

…God, what has Scott done now?

He needed to find Apo and Pearl.

Pearl was the easier one—he could hear her talking to Cleo in their house. The hard part was getting her away without drawing Cleo’s suspicion. The two were practically attached at the hip sometimes.

He speedwalked down the path that ran through the town before arriving at their doorstep, hesitating before rapping his knuckles against the wooden door.

Their voices went silent from within before he could hear footsteps approaching the door.

Cleo appeared on the other side, their ginger hair pulled back into a neat braid, though her expression was… less than pleased.

“Can I help you, Doc?” they asked.

“...Can I borrow Pearl for a moment? She came to me about something earlier, and I wanted to brush up on it.” Legs lied, glancing behind the farmer. He could see Pearl a few feet away, and they shared a look.

She felt it, too.

Pearl was seemingly far more attuned to her instincts than he would’ve originally thought, especially due to how new she was.

“Can it wait until morning?”

He shook his head. “It’s… something medical. It’d be best to handle it now.”

Cleo’s gaze darted between the two of them, before sighing. “Alright. Go ahead,” they said reluctantly. “You two be safe.”

Pearl gave them a side hug before stepping out of the house, and Cleo closed the door behind her.

Legs arched an eyebrow at Pearl, glancing back at the door. 

“Okay, I know that’s not what you’re here about.” She rolled her eyes. “Something happened. I don’t know what, but something did.”

“Someone got turned. We need to-” he was cut off by a sharp whistle piercing the air, followed by two shorter whistles in succession.

Here.

Legs liked to think of his bonds between fledglings more like tethers than anything else. Made it easier to visualize and track them if necessary. He closed his eyes, and after a moment, threads started shooting from around him. Thirteen different strands, in thirteen different colors, all in different directions. 

Now, he was able to note that Pearl’s was a light blue, similar to her eyes. Apo’s, on the other hand, was a red-violet, shooting out to his right, just past Pearl.

Right.

He opened his eyes and lowered his voice, looking back at Pearl. “Apo’s in the woods. We’ll meet up with her there, then we’ll all bat over to where the new fledgling is.”

“Do you know who it is?” she asked, and he shook his head as the two of them rounded the path towards his house, cutting through the grass towards one of the exits to town and slipping out.

After that, the two of them broke out into a run, Legs lunging forward and almost clearing half the distance to the treeline. He could see the silhouette of Apo between two of the large trees, staring back at the two of them as Pearl launched herself forward, surpassing him and making it to the trees, him hot on her heels.

He was getting too old for this.

An obvious lie—his body had stopped aging the moment his heart ceased to pump blood through his veins. 

But the sentiment always made him feel better. Like there was a nonviolent end waiting for him in a not-so-distant future.

Legs reached the two of them a few moments later, his gaze immediately going to Apo, flickering over their face.

She’s fine, they’re fine— everything’s fine.

“You two ready?” he asked, and they both nodded. A large swarm of bats darted around the area, weaving through trees as the three of them shot up above the treeline, following the tugging urge that had started to slowly weaken.

They were running out of time.

After a minute or two, it had started to become obvious that they were being led to the river, and Legs could see the small group of vampires on the pebbled shore, lingering close to the treeline.

There they are.

As the three of them started to descend, a strong wave pushed through Legs that sent a numbing feeling through him before forcing him out of his bat form.

Instead of gliding down towards the ground, like what usually happened when they ran out of time, he could feel the air rush around him as he plummeted down towards the rocky shore, barely having enough time to raise his arms to protect his head before making impact. 

Stars danced in his vision as he landed shoulder-first, the momentum making a deep dent in the rough ground.

What.

Was.

That.

“What the fuck?” he could hear Apo sit up, the rocks shifting under them as Legs rolled onto his back. “I know we had a solid two minutes left on that.”

“Does that normally happen?” Pearl asked.

Legs shook his head, managing to sit up, his gaze flickering between the two of them.

Everything was…

Not normal.

Fine, but not normal.

“Glad you decided to join the party,” Scott’s all-too-proud voice cut through his thoughts, and he glared at the teal-haired vampire.

“Who did you turn this time.”

He put his hands up in surrender, a grin still on his face. “No need to get so hasty, Doc. It wasn’t me.”

Legs thoroughly looked between the group. Owen was lingering in the treeline, Pyro was crouched on the ground, blood drying on his arm, and…

Shelby.

Blood still soaked the shoulder of her sweater as her eyes widened at them.

“There’s more of us?!” 

Oh fuck.

Chapter Text

Legs had managed to figure out that it was the beacons that caused the… malfunction in their abilities. A few of the townsfolk had gone out and found the last beacon in the surrounding area (he had no idea how many there were), and consecrated it.

Apparently, holy light isn’t exactly good for a creature of darkness. 

Who would’ve guessed.

At some point after he, Apo, and Pearl made it back to town, one of the other four managed to turn a beacon back, and the crack in holy light felt…

Regrettably, euphoric.

He had grown far too accustomed to his vampiric abilities over the decades, and being without them, being almost human…

It was dull.

Legs wasn’t comfortable with how reliant he had become on it, how relieved he was when it was over.

His eyes skimmed over the full pages of his notebook, laid out in front of him while the ink dried. The difference in how much more he had to write than before was an interesting development, and the normalcy provided some form of contempt.

He could see the moon through the window, crimson light slowly starting to fade as it approached the horizon, taking on an almost peachy color.

Hm…

Legs still wasn’t sure what was different  about Oakhurst that made the sky the way it was. Partial eclipses happened, but not this many times in a row.

A light tapping on the other window interrupted his thoughts, and he turned, expecting to see a bat, and was surprised to see Owen.

Instead of being a bat, he was in his normal form, perched on the windowsill, the hood of his brown cloak pulled over his head. 

Legs got up from his chair and pulled the window open, coming face-to-face with him.

“Doc.”

“Owen.”

“May I come in?” he tilted his head slightly, a few of his brown curls escaping the hood of his cloak.

He hesitated before answering. “You’re always welcome here.”

Owen’s brow furrowed. “That’s a dangerous offer.”

“I don’t think so.” Legs stepped away from the window, letting him inside.

Owen’s feet landed on the floor silently, eyes scanning the room before stopping on the open notebook on his desk. “Busy mind?”

“Something like that.” he took a glance at the ink before closing the notebook. “What brings you?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Legs’ lips quirked into a slight smile. “I suppose not.” he went to the other side of the room, crouching down and pulling a bottle of blood from inside. “Hungry?”

Owen paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?”

“Just a question.” he straightened. “I’ve been stocking up.”

“‘Course you have.”

He arched an eyebrow, almost amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged slightly. “Just seems like something you’d do.”

Legs hummed, uncorking the bottle and taking a sip.

“...Fine. Hand it over.” Owen sighed, and he passed the bottle, their fingers brushing slightly. 

Legs was used to physical contact. He was a doctor, it wasn’t exactly something he could avoid.

He didn’t know why this was different.

As Owen sipped from the glass bottle, he found himself staring. Observing, he silently corrected. He was observing.

The blood had made him look more… alive. He’d seen the effect before with others he had served with, but with Owen it seemed…different.

The pallor of his skin had seemingly receded, his skin taking on more of a warm tone.

His nails seemed sharper than most that Legs had seen when not in use. A lot of the time, when they weren’t in use, they would shorten back to normal fingernails. His always seemed to be partially out.

“You’re staring again,” Owen murmured, tilting his head slightly.

“...Just observing.”

He hummed, setting the half-empty glass bottle on the desk. His eyes went to the window as the moon slowly dipped below the treeline, the sky starting to lighten into its normal shades of grey.

“...I have an idea.”

“That’s not good.” Legs laughed slightly, picking up the bottle.

Owen rolled his eyes slightly before looking at him, brown eyes flickering over his face. “I’m serious.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“I’ll admit that I’m not the most… well-educated in vampiric practices. My sire… he didn’t have the time to teach me, before…” he trailed off slightly before shaking his head. “It came up in passing once—scent marking, and from what I do know, it’d probably piss Scott off to hell.”

Legs would’ve never admitted out loud that he didn’t hear the second half of that sentence after hearing Owen bring up scent marking.

He wants to what?

Legs wasn’t the most familiar with the practice, but he did know about it. Usually reserved for close members of the same brood, sometimes by sires as a way to “claim their property” in extreme cases (and was, unfortunately, the only circumstance he was actually familiar with).

“...Legs?”

He snapped out of his thoughts, an unfamiliar heat rising to his face before looking back at Owen. “Yeah—uh, that would definitely piss him off, that’s for sure.” A pause. “You’re sure you want to do that?” 

He shrugged. “I mean, mutual interest and all.”

No kidding.

“Sure, yeah, why not.” Do NOT freak out. He very obviously doesn’t know what the implications of that are, don’t freak out.

Don’t freak out.

He was freaking out. Just a bit.

Legs could already smell Owen’s scent from where he stood, only a few feet away. Heavily of pine needles, with bits of charcoal and fresh-cut wood.

Makes sense. He was a lumberjack.

His gaze darted to his arms, which were still wrapped in bandages, like they had always been.

“...You’re going to need to unwrap your wrists for this.”

Owen raised his eyebrows. “...Why?”

“Scent glands are on the wrist and neck. Wrist would probably work for now.”

“Oh.” he looked down at his hands. “...Right.” he hesitated before starting to unravel the bandages on his hands. Underneath, Legs could see marbled scars covering his skin, healed over but still noticeably there, especially with the light of dawn seeping in through the window.

Owen didn’t undo the bandages fully, just enough to expose his wrists, before looking back at him. “Alright, what now?”

Legs hesitated before reaching his hand out slightly. “...May I?”

Owen nodded slowly, and he carefully took his hand, thumb brushing over the pulse point of his wrist that remained still under his fingers. His hand slid halfway up his forearm, over the bandages, until their wrists pressed against each other.

Warmth immediately sparked at the contact, spreading to his fingertips. Legs could feel Owen’s claws brush against his forearm, grazing at the skin.

It felt… odd, standing there, but Legs would be lying if he said he knew any other way to do this. Within a minute or two, the initial warmth faded, and he pulled his hand away.

Just the other wrist.

Owen tilted his head slightly, a rosy tint coloring the tips of his ears. “That was… strange.”

Legs nodded slowly, before hesitantly reaching for Owen’s opposite arm with his other hand, repeating the same motion as before. 

Owen’s hand had a tighter grip on his forearm this time, the pads of his fingers almost digging into his arm.

Like before, warmth flooded from the contact, and in the same way, it faded minutes later.

Admittedly, sooner than Legs would’ve liked.

He pulled away regardless, taking a step back. “That’s it.”

“...Alright.”

An odd silence fell over the two of them, the air in the room almost thick.

…Fucking hell.

Chapter Text

Legs hadn’t really reached out to many of the town members since arriving at Oakhurst, although he did keep his clinic open in case of emergency.

He doubted Cleo’s seemingly angry pounding on the front door was the medical emergency he was keeping his doors open for.

They immediately pushed past him as soon as he opened the door. “We need to talk.”

“...Good morning, Cleo. How was your night.” he pressed his lips into a thin line, closing the door. “My night was great, thanks for asking.”

She sighed. “Yes, hello Doc. We need to talk.”

“About what, exactly?”

“I know what you are.”

Legs paused, frowning slightly. The inside of his wrist warmed, and the scent of pine strengthened, though he wasn’t sure if that was his own perception or actual reality. “...I don’t see how my personal relations are of your concern, Cleo.”

She raised an eyebrow slightly before her eyes widened. “Oh- Doc that’s not what I was talking about. Don’t get me wrong, your taste in men is atrocious-”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Please, I can smell Owen all over you. Almost as much as I can smell the pigs blood and vampirism.”

What?

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been listening to Avid again-”

“Cut the shit, Doc. I know.” Cleo sighed. “My mother was a vampire.”

He frowned. “That’s not-”

“Adopted. I was adopted. Get there faster. My adoptive mother was a vampire. And…someone else made me their thrall.”

Oh.

Legs had heard of vampiric thrall before, but never had actually met one. A few others he had served with had a few scattered around through the company, but it wasn’t something he spent much time looking into.

“Right.” he sighed. “Why didn’t you lead with that exactly?”

“Because you thought I was talking about your relationship with Owen!”

“We aren’t in a relationship!”

“Right, so you just scent mark random vampires?” they raised their eyebrows.

Legs pinched the bridge of his nose. “He didn’t know the implications of what that meant! He just wanted to piss off Scott.”

“And you didn’t tell him?”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“Literally anything you dumbass.” she swatted his shoulder.

“I think we’re getting off track here.” he sighed.

“We are. Pearl’s also a vampire, isn’t she.”

“Yes, she’s a vampire.”

“...But she wasn’t one when we came here.” Cleo continued. 

Legs sighed again. “No, she wasn’t.”

“I’m only asking you this once, Doc. Did you turn her?”

“I did.”

She smacked his shoulder again. “Why?”

“Why do you keep hitting me?!”

“Because you’re a dumbass! Why the hell would you do that, Legs?”

“She was about to die, and that’s what I was taught to do, Cleo!”

Preserve the body.

Preserve the mind.

…Bring in more soldiers.

She rubbed her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Doc.”

“Is that all you wanted to talk about, or do you have an actual emergency?”

“No, that was it.”

Legs sighed. “Really?”

“Look, I didn’t know how to ask Pearl.”

“And you tell me I’m a mess.”

“That’s because you are.”

——————————————————————

Legs knocked on the door to Apo and Pyro’s cabin, blowing out a breath he didn’t need to. “Apo, we need to talk.”

He heard muffled shuffling of feet, before the door opened, Apo staring back, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I can explain-”

“You can explain why you’re scent marked by Owen?” they gave him an incredulous look.

He sighed. “Can we not have this conversation outside?”

She paused before opening the door fully. “Come in.” 

He stepped into the cabin, and Apo shut the door behind him. “Alright. Explain.”

“Owen doesn’t actually know what scent marking means. He thought I’d be a good way to piss off Scott.”

“Are you kidding me? We haven’t even scent marked yet, Legs!”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to!”

“Because it’s a weird and invasive practice!”

“It’s not a big deal.” Legs assured her, which would’ve been more convincing if it was a sentiment he believed himself. 

“Not a big deal? Legs, all of my knowledge of scent marking comes from you, and we both know you don’t believe that.” Apo crossed their arms. “Why Owen of all people?”

“Oh my God.” He rubbed his eyes, almost hard enough to dislodge his glass eye. “It means nothing. It was just to piss off Scott! You also hate Scott, I thought you’d be more on board with it.”

She gave him a look. “Is that the only reason?”

Legs hesitated, and she groaned. “Oh my God-”

“Apo-”

“He is not joining the brood.”

He blinked, frowning. “Why was that your first assumption?”

They paused. “...I have no idea. Probably because of your penchant for taking in strays?”

“I do not-”

“You absolutely do, Doc.”

——————————————————————

The stone blade of Legs’ axe buried itself into the trunk of the dark oak tree before he ripped it out again, repeating the motion over and over, the feeling monotonous.

He wasn’t the biggest fan of chopping trees, but it was something he could do, and he needed the wood.

While the repetitive sound filled his ears, it didn’t stop him from hearing the light footsteps approaching behind him. He pulled the axe from the tree once more and spun around, holding it out at arms length at Scott’s throat.

The teal-haired vampire put his hands up in mock surrender. “Easy, doc. Axes are sharp.” he pushed the blade away with the tip of his finger. “Not that it would particularly do anything, but I suppose you can dream.”

Legs let the axe fall back to his side. “Can I help you, Scott?”

“Yes, actually.” He grinned, fangs flashing in the crimson moonlight. “You could answer a few questions for me, doctor, starting with why you marked a member of my brood.”

“Owen isn’t part of your brood, Scott.” Legs gave him a look. “Or did you happen to forget that after pushing your superiority complex onto everyone else around you?”

“And he’s not part of yours either, is he.” Scott tilted his head slightly. “So why mark him at all?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“Well, I know what it’s supposed to mean, and I’m sure you know as well, Doc. You’re smart like that, I’m sure you’ve figured it out over the measly decades you’ve been around.” Scott picked at a piece of moss that clung to the bark of a nearby tree before flicking it away. “You really think he’s gonna stick around after he finds out?”

“I don’t care if he does.” Lie.

The other vampire hummed. “Sure you don’t. A man like you wouldn’t have agreed to something like that if you didn’t care at least a little bit.”

Legs tilted his head slightly. “And what would you know about the type of man I am, exactly?”

“Mm, I’ve met your type.” he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’d keep my distance if I were you, Doc. The antiseptic smell reeks and kind of kills off the vibe in my castle.”

And without another word, Scott vanished into the bloody night without a trace.

Chapter Text

“Watch your step,” Cleo warned as Martyn disregarded their words, jumping down into the crypt. Legs looked down, seeing the water at the bottom before looking back at them.

“You’re sure this is safe?”

They shrugged. “I mean, we’ve been doing it so far, and nobody’s died, so I’d say pretty safe.”

He wearily looked back down at the bottom. Martyn had disappeared from sight, but he could hear the man’s footsteps below.

“...Alright.”

Cleo jumped down, the water splashing under them, and Legs followed a moment later. The plummet was fine—he had dropped from greater heights in his bat form, but the water was… unpleasant.

His socks and half of his pant legs were now soaked, and the water smelled stagnant, which was probably brewing with bacteria.

Wonderful.

Martyn was already at the other end of the crypt, peeking into the worn chest propped up on a pedestal. He pulled a surprisingly pristine book out of the chest that almost seemed to glow.

“These are the books that have been giving you guys powers?” he arched an eyebrow as he and Cleo walked towards him.

Martyn nodded, holding the book up fully. “Yeah! I already have this one, though.” he held it out to him. “You want it?”

Legs could feel the holy power radiating off of it, and had to fight the urge to either flinch away or slap it out of his hand. “I’ll pass.”

Martyn shrugged, stuffing it into his bag. “Suit yourself. I’ll see if Ren wants this one.”

He glanced at Cleo, who gave him a brief look before speaking. “There’s another crypt on our way back to town if we loop around near the castle ruins.”

“Wonderful, we should go do that.” Martyn passed between them, back towards the entrance to the crypt. “More books for us is always better!”

The two of them shared a look before following behind, making their way out of the crypt.

The next crypt wasn’t too far, just across the river. The same lights that were on the previous one were visible through the trees.

“I’m not going into this one.” Legs said as they got closer, weaving through the trees.

Martyn raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

He nodded. “Neither of you should be going down there. Stagnant water has far too much bacteria for any of that to be safe.”

Cleo arched an eyebrow at him. “I mean, everyone’s been fine so far. I think we’d all know by now if it was dangerous.”

“...I’m still not going down there.”

——————————————————————

Martyn and Cleo weren’t in the crypt for long before the three of them continued through the woods, Legs chopping away at brush to clear a path as they rounded up a hill in the terrain.

“Hold on, is that— is that the castle?” Martyn stopped in his tracks, deviating through the brush.

“Martyn-” Cleo sighed before following, and Legs was close behind as they reached the edge of the cliff. Sure enough, the ruins of the castle came into view. It was… a lot more put together compared to the last time he had seen it. There had been progress on what looked like a grand hall and a gate, but he couldn’t quite tell from this angle.

And inside those starting walls were Scott, Owen, and two other bats.

Shelby and Pyro.

“...Well I’ll be damned.” Martyn blew out a breath. “The maniac was right.”

“No shit,” Cleo gave Legs a look, and he cleared his throat. 

“That’s… definitely something.” was all he could manage to say. 

“...We should go down there,” Martyn said after a moment.

“What? No—why would we do that?”

He shrugged. “Why not? They’re probably the ones who desecrated the beacons, right?”

“He does have a point.” Cleo agreed. “Not on running in blind, but we should do something.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that,”  the blond huffed. “I have my lantern ability—we can at least stop them from corrupting that one for a while.”

“I’ll stay back here, if you insist on doing this.” Legs spoke up after a moment, and Martyn frowned.

“Why?”

“Someone has to be able to get help and drag your asses out of there if something goes wrong.”

“That’s… fair.” Cleo gave him a knowing look before their gaze went back to Martyn. “Let’s go, then? We can sneak around the back.”

He unsheathed his silver sword, spinning it in his hand. “Sounds good to me.”

Legs’ gaze followed them as the two started down the gentle incline of the hill that curved towards the castle.
They'd better be safe.

His eyes went back to the castle. Shelby and Pyro were in their normal forms again, and the four of them had started crossing the length of the hall and sitting next to the warm, glowing beacon, radiating with holy light that Legs could feel from here.

The holy light dimmed, and he tilted his head slightly, crouching down into the bushes so he could move closer to the edge of the cliff without being seen. 

Owen was the closest to him (which wasn’t close at all), sitting on the edge of the platform next to the beacon, his legs hanging off the side, idly listening to the conversation Scott and Shelby were having. 

Legs couldn’t hear what they were talking about due to how far he was, but he could see Pyro laugh at something Scott said.

Hm.

They like being around him.

A large burst of light came from the area as flames engulfed the platform. The four of them immediately scattered as Cleo and Martyn came into view, corralling Scott and Pyro further into the castle ruins. Shelby and Owen had disappeared completely.

Were they alright?

If Legs was being transparent with himself, he didn't give a shit what happened to Scott. Pyro, he was more concerned about, and he knew Owen could hold his own, but Shelby was still new.

And immediately being thrown into a conflict involving fire.

Legs shifted into his wild cat form and broke off into a sprint, paws thudding against the soft ground as he rounded down the side of the steep hill towards the side of the castle, where he could see the fire start to cling onto nearby trees.

He couldn’t see Shelby or Owen, which only left him with two thoughts: Either they died and came back elsewhere, or they made it out in a different form.

Both were probable, but only one provided him any comfort to him.

A tug in in his gut broke him from his thoughts, and his head shot up, ears twitching.

New Blood.

Again?

It couldn’t have been Cleo—Thrall could only be turned by the vampire they were connected to, which either meant someone else had joined the fight, or…

Martyn.

The pull led behind him, towards the bridge that connected the castle towards the path to Oakhurst.

Eight to six.

Why do they keep turning people?

He should find Martyn.

Legs immediately turned and started down the steep edge of the hill, closer to the water, before hearing a voice behind him.

“Doc.”

Owen.

He froze before shifting back into his normal form, turning to face the other vampire. “Owen.”

“The humans sure know how to put on a spectacle.” Owen hummed, glancing back at the flaming trees.

“Trust me, I’m aware.”

“Why do you still hide among them, then?”

Legs frowned slightly. “Weren’t you doing the same thing?”

“Yes, but we have our space. You and your little brood all still reside in town. What’re you gonna do when they come knocking on doors with stakes and fire?” Owen pointed out, though Legs wasn’t sure if it was to prove a point, or out of a place of concern.

He didn’t know a lot of things when it came to Owen.

“I won’t let that happen.”

He hummed again. “You told me the reason you came here, Doc, and it wasn’t to be chummy with them.” a pause. “What’s your motive here, now?”

Legs paused. He was right. He and Apo had found the obvious traces of vampirism within Oakhurst, and they weren’t able to leave for the foreseeable future. 

Bushes rustled behind him with movement, probably from a pig or a small sheep, before the sound disappeared.“...I think I’m still figuring that out.”

“You might want to sooner. Humans don’t like what doesn’t mirror them.”

Three sharp whistles in rapid succession pierced through the air like darts, and Legs’ head whipped around back towards the bridge.

Urgent.

When he looked back at Owen, the vampire was gone, no bats lingering in his place.

He needed to find Apo.

Legs shifted into his bat form, a dozen or so other bats scattering from his form as he took off, flying alongside the bridge, eyes scanning his surroundings. He could feel that Apo was with the new vampire (presumably Martyn) straight ahead, and soon enough, he saw them.

Martyn was severely waterlogged, his blond hair sticking to his face. Apo was sitting next to him on the pebbled beach, the bottom of her skirt soaked enough for the crimson to take on an almost black.

He landed on the beach, shifting back into his normal form once more, his feet hitting the rocks.

Martyn’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You’re one of them as well?”

“Seems like you’re also ‘one of them’ now, too.” Legs pointed out. “Who turned you?”

“Scott.” his hand went up to cover the healing wound in the curve of his neck. It was a lot messier than what he would assume from a vampire as old as Scott, but urgency could be an easy explanation for that.

“Of course.” he rubbed his eyes before looking at Apo. “How’d you guys get all the way down here? I thought he got turned on the bridge.”

“Scott pushed him off the edge.” she explained. “...I don’t think he realized he turned Martyn.”

“Of course he didn’t. Where’s Cleo?”

“Already back in town, probably.”

“Right.” he glanced around. “I need to round back from the west and head back to Oakhurst.” Legs dug into his bag, pulling out a bottle of blood and holding it out to Martyn.

Martyn stared at the crimson liquid within the bottle. “This is my life now, isn’t it?”

“More like un-life, but yeah.”

He sighed, taking the bottle. “Cheers.”

——————————————————————

By the time Legs made it back to Oakhurst, the sun was dipping below the horizon, coloring his surroundings with the same crimson light that the town was known for. Upon reaching the town, he immediately made a beeline for his house, making sure to cut through the center of town so somebody saw him and they didn’t assume he got mauled by a wolf or turned into a vampire.

He already was one, but that was besides the point.

Legs tapped the end of his pen against the blank page. It wasn’t that there was a lack of things to write, it was more that he didn’t know how to write them. He wanted to be accurate, and he was beginning to think that he’d have to sit on the events of the day in order to begin processing what happened.

He glanced at the flickering oil lamp on his desk, the flame catching his eye.

He needed to refill the oil soon.

Next to the lamp was a small wooden cup filled with water he retrieved from the basin in his house, where his glass eye had started soaking. It had been too long since he had given it proper time to clean, so now felt like a good time.

A flash of light from outside caught his attention, and he turned, immediately noticing the much larger fire outside.

Apo’s house.

FUCK.

They must’ve found out. They found out she’s a vampire.

This is bad.

This is really, really bad.

Legs immediately shot up from his chair as the air filled with the sound of cracking glass before the window shattered completely. Fire crawled through the new entrance to his house, filling the air with smoke.

His house was on fire.

Don’t panic. 

You don’t need to breathe, but smoke still hurts. Gather flammable essentials.

Notebooks, his robes…

The bag.

He immediately shot across the room, crouching next to his cot before pulling out a different, larger bag that he had stored beneath it.

His fledgling tokens.

An item from each of his fledglings, with their scent still lingering. Flames danced at the edges of his vision as he could see embers pushing further into the room.

Legs next went to the rudimentary shelf against the wall, opening the bag and shoving as many notebooks as he could fit inside. He didn’t have many—but the bag was already pressed for space.

His eyes burned as more smoke filled the room. He was running out of time.

His robes really weren’t that important. He could still operate without them. 

He didn’t like to, but he could.

Looking back at the other side of the room, his desk was already engulfed in flames, the notebook already a charred pile of ashes. Looking hurt his eyes, his enhanced vision not helping the intensity of the flames.

He had to leave his eye as well.

The fire had probably already melted it by now.

Legs grabbed his stone sword from against the wall and threw it at the other window, shattering the glass on impact before diving out. He willed to shift into his bat form, but it didn’t come.

Fuck.

He tumbled from the window, landing on the cold grass, the unnecessary air forced from his lungs from impact. Managing to stand, he could see the top floor of his house ablaze, the stone foundation untouched.

What the fuck?

The sound of an arrow cutting through the air immediately forced him to duck, feeling it rush above his head.

“Get out of here, ye creature of darkness!” Ren shouted, and Legs looked up in time to see the man knock another arrow.

“Ren… What are you doing?” Legs said slowly, taking a step backwards. He had a white-knuckle grip on the strap of his bag, as if it was a lifeline.

And maybe it was.

Avid stepped into view, still partially behind Ren. “He heard your conversation with Owen, Doc. The act is up. We know.”

Oh.

Humans don’t like what doesn’t mirror them. Owen’s voice echoed in his head as another arrow went flying, and Legs turned invisible, breaking off into a sprint towards the woods. 

He lunged, pushing himself into the treeline, the red moonlight filtering in through the foliage of the trees.

Legs had reached the shore of the river faster than he expected. His invisibility had worn off by that point, but he didn’t need it anymore as he jumped between stepping stones towards the other side.

The Dead Woods.

The pale trees were colored an almost rosy tint from the moonlight, a stark contrast to the dark woods surrounding the rest of Oakhurst.

He was on his own for now.

Chapter Text

Legs had already managed to make a small cabin by the next day, and the day after, he had sorted out the inside.

A cooking setup felt necessary, even though he didn’t eat cooked food—the ability to boil water was always a good thing to keep on stand by.

Flipping through one of the notebooks he was able to salvage from the fire, he came to a stop on one of the pages.

He had forgotten about this one.

It was a recipe he had learned from one of his fledglings, Skye,  a few decades prior. The page was worn, and the ink lightly smudged, but he could still make out the ingredients.

He had only made it once, for a squad he was stationed with at the time, and there had been something about it that put everyone in a better mood.

Hm..

It wasn’t a complicated recipe by any means—It really only took mushrooms, a few herbs, and, oddly enough, daisies and dandelions. Legs never got the chance to taste it himself, but he remembered the earthy smell that came from the pot while he was making it.

The pot…

His cooking pot was still at his house. It was probably okay, considering he had kept it downstairs with the rest of his cooking stuff.

…He might have to take a trip into town.

——————————————————————

Getting into Oakhurst wasn’t the hard part—his invisibility provided great cover for him to reach what remained of his house. 

The issue was going to be getting out with a quite large cookpot without being noticed by anyone.

Stepping away from any windows, Legs made a beeline for the opposite side of the room, crouching down and picking up the large pot. It wasn’t heavy, but it was extremely obvious.

He probably should’ve thought this through more.

“Doc?”

He straightened, before relaxing at the voice. “Hello, Pearl.” he turned, seeing her in the doorway of what was left of the house.

She stepped further in, closing the half-burnt door before speedwalking towards him. “What are you doing here? Wh-” she paused. “What happened to your eye?”

Legs paused before holding up the pot. “...Wanted to grab some things. And it got lost in the fire.”

She blinked. “You… what?”

He shrugged. “I took it out to clean it and it go-” Legs cut himself off. “...You didn’t know my eye was fake.”

“No! No, I didn’t know that.” Pearl paused, pressing her lips together. “And you came here… for a cooking pot.”

“Among other things, yes.”

She sighed, stepping closer and looking at the shelf he was standing in front of. “Alright. What else are we grabbing?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “...We?”

“You really think you’re getting that out of here without anyone noticing?” She put her hands on her hips.

“That’s… fair.”

“Right. Now, what are we grabbing?”

Legs set the pot on the floor and grabbed a stack of bowls from one of the shelves. A few of them had been made by Ren when they had all first made it to town, but several had been from before he arrived at Oakhurst, significantly more worn and stained.

“...You have a lot of cookware for someone who can’t eat food.” Pearl said after he grabbed a wooden ladle.

“It wasn’t for me,” he explained. “I had… I have an idea.”

“...To make soup.”

Legs looked at her. “Exactly.”

“Okay, yeah, you’ve lost me, Doc.”

He put the bowls and ladle into the pot before picking it back up. “I’ll explain on the way.”

——————————————————————

Legs met up with Pearl at the edge of the river, shifting from his bat form, his boots hitting the pebbled beach. She carried the pot on her hip, holding onto one of the handles.

“You’re lucky people don’t really notice what I do, Doc.” Pearl quirked her lips into a slight grin. 

He laughed. “They really should.”

She shrugged. “Well, they don’t, so good for us. Where are we going?”

“To the Dead Woods.” he started crossing the river, jumping between the stepping stones.

Pearl followed, and the two of them continued into the woods once reaching the other side of the river.

“Apo misses you,” she said after a silent moment, adjusting how she held the pot. The wooden bowls clinked from inside, the sound almost echoing off the trees.

Legs glanced at Pearl, turning his head fully to be able to see her. “How are they?”

“Frustrated. I think Martyn’s stressing her out.” she conceded. “After she burned down her and Pyro’s house, they ended up moving in with him.

“Oh.” he pressed his lips into a thin line, returning his gaze to the vague path in front of them. There wasn’t a clear route through the Dead Woods, but Legs had a mild sense of where the cabin was in relation to the river.

Eventually, the small cabin came into view. He had built it out of the pale wood that filled the forest, nestling it between the large trees. Outside the house, sat in the grass next to the door, was Shelby.

She hadn’t noticed them, more focused on the pale basket she was weaving, plucking long strands of grass from her surroundings.

Pearl raised her eyebrows. “Shelby?”

Their head shot up, and her eyes brightened. “Oh, hi!” gently setting the half-finished basket down, the redhead ran over towards them, giving Pearl a quick hug before embracing Legs.

He hugged them back, “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. How’d you get here?”

“Welll,” she pulled back slightly, looking at them both. “I saw the fires in town, and wanted to check in on you, so I asked Owen where you were.”

Pearl frowned. “Why would Owen know that?”

Legs sighed. “The empathy link can give off a vague location.”

“The what?”

“The scent marking.” Shelby elaborated. 

She raised her eyebrows, giving Legs a look. “That’s an empathy link?”

“...Yes.”

Pearl whacked his shoulder lightly.

“Ow! Why’d you hit me?”

“Because you’re a dumbass.”

He sighed. “Are we really having this conversation again?”

“Honestly, no, only because of how unproductive it’d be.”

“I think it’s cute.” Shelby smiled, before bounding back towards the cabin and picking up the grass basket she had paused making. 

“We should get these inside.” Pearl gestured slightly with the pot.

Legs nodded, walking through the small clearing and pushing open the door to the cabin. “You two are always welcome here.”

Shelby smiled even wider. “You are amazing, Legs!” They stepped into the small cabin, glancing around the space.

He had managed to scrounge up enough wool from nearby sheep to assemble a makeshift cot that he shoved in the corner of the cabin.

Pearl frowned after stepping into the cabin, setting the pot on the ground. “What’s with the bed?”

“Hm?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Shelby looked at him. “We don’t sleep. Why do you have a bed?”

Right.

“It’s good for nesting.” he hummed, picking up the pot from where Pearl had put it, bringing it to the side of the room and setting it over the rudimentary stove he had set up.

“...Right. Why did you want the pot again?” Pearl asked him.

He fished his notebook out from his bag before flipping it open to the page he had folded. “I found this recipe that I remember making for a troop I stationed with a few decades ago, and thought we could make it for the town.”

“You mean the town that kicked you out and set your house on fire?” she arched an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, not all of them are bad.” Shelby reasoned. “Like Drift and Cleo! They’re great. Plus a lot of them are just… misunderstanding, like Avid.” they glanced away, gaze dropping towards the floor.

Legs and Pearl shared a look, before Pearl sighed.

“Alright, let's make some soup.”

——————————————————————

Once Shelby finished weaving in the ends of the basket, the three of them set off into the woods. The mushrooms were easy enough to find around the cabin, but they’d have to venture into the woods closer to Oakhurst to get the daisies and dandelions for the soup.

“Hey, I found some!” Shelby waved over at them, daisies clenched in her other hand. “These guys seem to like growing closer to the smaller trees.”

“I think it’s from the sun.” Pearl looked up towards the canopy, and Legs followed her gaze. Around the smaller trees, there seemed to be more gaps in the foliage, letting more light through into the woods. 

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he held out the basket to Shelby, who walked back over and added the daisies to what they already managed to collect. A few dandelions, enough mushrooms, and now the daisies.

Could use some more dandelions…

“Have you seen any other dandelions over here?” he asked Shelby.

She paused to think. “I think I saw a few up ahead?”

“I’ll get them,” Pearl immediately volunteered, passing Shelby and weaving through the trees, out of sight.

Legs looked back at them. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

She smiled at him. “Of course I am! When I was younger, I did this a lot with my dad. Not for soup, but we’d get them for my mom, before he went off to look for werewolves,” they paused. “Are werewolves real?”

His gaze went back to where Pearl had disappeared into the trees, hearing the distant thud of her footsteps on the grass. The memories he had gotten from here didn’t give as much as he would’ve liked, but it was enough to give a solid answer.

“I don’t know much about them, but they are.”

Shelby brightened. “Really? I knew it! I knew they were real!”

Legs smiled at her as Pearl’s footsteps alerted him to her return before her voice carried over.

“Got the dandelions!” he turned his head as the brunette came fully into view, hands full of the yellow flowers.

Shelby turned to her. “Did you know werewolves were real?”

She bit back a laugh. “Yeah, I might know a few things about them?”

They gasped. “Could you tell me?”

Pearl put the dandelions into the basket. “Yeah, definitely.”

The walk back to the cabin was filled with werewolf talk, and Legs found himself mentally noting down the information Pearl was willingly giving.

Legs pushed open the door, and the three of them stepped inside. He made a beeline to the stove,  setting the basket on the chest next to the stove. Flipping back open the notebook, he set it down on the crafting table, glancing over the recipe.

“Where’d you find this recipe?” Pearl asked, opening one of the windows and glancing over at the notebook.

“One of my other childer, Skye.” he clarified. “She got it from her uncle.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Shelby smiled. 

Legs found himself smiling as well. “Yeah. Last I heard, she was stationed around Brunswick.” he picked the pot up. “I’m gonna fill this up by the river.”

“While you do that, I had an idea.” Pearl said, and he arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“I could head back to town and get some supplies for nesting. Just, while we’re here.”

A warm feeling spread through his chest. “That’d be nice.”

“Ooh! I could get some stuff too!” Shelby offered. “I have a few things back at the castle.”

He paused. “...I don’t think that’d be the best idea.”

They paused. “Right. Scott probably wouldn’t like that.”

“Yeah.” he pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes scanning over her briefly. 

She looked… fine.

No obvious bruising or harm, and she obviously thought… highly of Scott. He knew they could heal quickly but…

Marks from sires always seemed to linger longer.

They were fine.

“I can go with you to the river then!” Shelby smiled. “We can all meet back here after.”

“...Good idea.”

——————————————————————

By the time Legs and Shelby had made it back to the cabin from the river, Pearl was already there, arranging blankets on the floor.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You have… a lot of blankets.”

She shrugged. “I get cold easily.”

“It looks super cozy.” Shelby grinned, walking over to crouch next to the nest on the floor. 

Legs watched them, tilting his head slightly before setting the pot on the stove. “The soup needs to simmer for a while, so I’ll just get it started.” 

“Alright.” Pearl nodded, unfolding another blanket, this one a light grey.

He turned back to the stove, crouching down and pulling out his flint and the small iron knife he had kept on him, striking the iron against the flint repeatedly. Sparks flew from the collision onto the kindling and wood stuffed into the stove, eventually catching fire.

The soup was quite simple, it just took a while. He used the knife (after wiping it off) to slice up the mushrooms and separate flowers from stem, adding them to the pot as the water began to heat up.

Part of him wished they had found anything else in the woods. The last time, he had managed to find ginger root to add to the soup, which did help with human immune systems.

It’d be fine.

Closing the notebook, Legs turned away from the stove. Pearl and Shelby had finished with the nest, already snuggled close inside it. Shelby’s head rested on her lap, and Pearl was toying with a few strands of their red hair.

Stepping over the small wall of blanket that made up the nest, he sat down next to Pearl. He hadn’t properly noticed before, but he could distinguish the girl’s scents now. 

Pearl’s was more floral, with tinges of roses and lilies, but also sharp with citrus. Shelby, on the other hand, smelled strongly of parchment and ink, with wildflowers curling at the edges.

It was nice.

“...I’m glad you two are here.” he said after a moment, hands resting in his lap.

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, come here, you big sap,” she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer into the nest. 

Shelby lifted her head up slightly, looking at the two of them. “It’s nice being here.”

“...Yeah. It is.” he agreed, leaning his head against Pearl’s.

The silence that fell between the three of them was comfortable, although short lived.

“So…Why did you scent mark Owen?” Shelby tilted her head back to make eye contact with Legs, yellow eyes full of questions.

Legs opened his mouth to speak, before ultimately sighing. “What did he tell you?”

They shrugged lightly. “I just want to know why you agreed to it.”

“Yeah, Doc,” Pearl gave him a look. “Why did you agree to it?”

Both of them looked at him expectantly, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

Why did he do it?

“It just… felt right, I guess?” he shrugged slightly. “I’m still figuring some things out when it comes to vampirism.”

I know your emotions better than you do.

He took a moment to very conveniently push those thoughts away into the crevices of his mind.

“You also haven’t scent marked Apo,” Shelby hummed. “Do you not do that to your fledglings?”

It’s tradition. Come here.

“Apo wasn’t really fond of the idea, so we never did.” he clarified, clearing his throat slightly. “I did with Viking and Vintage last I saw them, but it’s worn off since.”

“...We could, if you want.” Pearl offered, sitting up a bit straighter.

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that?”

She shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Why not?”

Legs paused before answering. “Yeah, we could.” he turned to face her fully. “Hold out your wrist.”

Pearl rolled up her sleeve slightly before holding out her arm towards him. He rolled up his sleeve as well before taking gentle hold of her wrist, his hand sliding up her arm slightly until their wrists touched. Familiar warmth flooded through the contact, and the strong smell of flowers and citrus flooded the air.

“...What are you doing?” Shelby arched an eyebrow, and Legs looked at her. They had since sat up and looked very confused.

“...Scent marking?” 

“Oh! Are there like, different ways to do it? Scott’s is a lot quicker.”

“Really?” Pearl raised her eyebrows.

He pursed his lips, pulling his hand away. The warmth and the scent lingered, although fainter. “Really?” he parroted.

“Mhm! Like this,” her hand hovered over Pearl’s other wrist before she paused. “Can I?”

“Oh, uh, sure.”  she nodded, and they picked up their hand, gently pressing their wrists together for a short moment before pulling away. The scent of oranges and parchment filled the air from the brief moment of contact, far shorter than Legs was used to.

Don’t question me. It is how it is.

“...Huh.”

Chapter Text

The thick scent of pine needles drifted through the cabin as Legs pulled the pot of soup off the stove. It had been coming in waves for the past hour, and he kept looking for the source, his wrists warming.

He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking it was Owen. They were in the middle of the forest. Granted, the Dead Woods didn’t have any pine trees in it, there were a few in the woods surrounding Oakhurst. It wasn’t too far-fetched to assume someone tracked a few inside.

But it felt like him.

It felt like woodsmoke and lukewarm nights, even with the sharp breeze coming in through the open window.

He paused. “I have no idea how I’m getting this to town in my bat form.”

Pearl frowned, tilting her head slightly before picking a light pink scarf up from the nest. “You could tie this to the handles and carry it that way?”

“Ooh, yeah!” Shelby got up from the floor, walking over and peering into the pot. “That. Smells. Amazing.” they sighed. “Makes me sad I can’t eat food anymore.”

Legs took the scarf and tied each end to the handles before lifting it up, testing the weight. It seemed… stable enough.

“Alright, ready to become a soup fairy, Doc?” Pearl nudged his arm lightly, and he snorted.

“I wouldn’t say fairy, but sure.”

“Oh you totally are a fairy!” Shelby laughed. “This is how fairytales start! Soon, everyone’s going to be talking about the small elf that leaves soup on people’s porches.”

“Elf?”

They shrugged. “It works.”

Pearl glanced back at the nest on the ground. “I should start packing this back up and bring it back to town. They may not pay that much attention to where I go, but they’ll notice if I’m gone for too long.”

Legs nodded, glancing back at Shelby. “You sticking around?”

She shrugged. “Maybe? I’m not sure. Might go and do some hunting. That soup really has me feeling hungry.”

He nodded, taking the bowls and ladle that they had brought from the ruins of his old house and stuffing them into his bag before picking up the pot by the scarf. “Well, I’ll see you two around.”

Pearl smiled, before crouching down and starting to lay out and fold the blankets, Shelby joining her soon after.

Legs stepped out of the cabin, setting the pot down before shifting into his bat form and latching onto the scarf with his feet, wings flapping as he carefully launched into the air. It was heavy, but thankfully, vampiric strength still carried over into his bat form.

After managing to cross the river, he realized how conspicuous it was to be a bat carrying a large pot of steaming soup through the woods.

A bit too late to back out now.

Once breaking through the treeline, as the sun began to sink past the horizon, he lowered the pot of soup to the ground next to the wall before shifting back into his normal form, immediately digging out the bowls and ladle from his bag. He scooped soup into one of the bowls, before setting it on one of the flatter stumps that made up the wall surrounding Oakhurst, filling up the four he had managed to fit inside the bag.

Setting the spoon back into the pot, he let invisibility overtake him, picking up two of the bowls and silently making his way into the village. With the oncoming darkness, everyone had retired inside, leaving the town quieter than normal.

That, or they had all gone out to the beacons.

That detail didn’t particularly matter at the moment, as he set two bowls of the soup on the porch of Drift and Avid’s house before quickly exiting the town and grabbing the other two bowls. 

One of them went to Martyn’s house, and the other sat just outside Cleo and Pearl’s. Ren was outside of town, now, and had a sneaking suspicion the man wouldn’t particularly want the soup anyways.

He had managed to leave Oakhurst just before his invisibility wore off, the soup successfully delivered.

…Leaving him with a half-filled pot of soup he couldn’t eat.

Right.

He jumped onto the wall, crouching down just above the edge to glance over the town in its entirety. After a moment, his gaze landed on Abolish’s house.

He didn’t know much about the supposed butler, him being a man of few words, but he seemed… sensible.

Maybe he’d want the soup.

His invisibility had already worn off, but he untied the scarf from the pot, stuffing it in his now-empty bag before picking up the pot of soup and carrying it into town, skirting around the edges closer to the wall before coming to a stop around the side of Abolish’s house. He quickly set it next to the door before giving it a quick knock and jumping over the wall, exiting town.

That was all done.

Legs sprinted towards the treeline, shifting into his cat form as he disappeared between the trunks. Red moonlight filtered through the foliage as he ran through the woods, air rushing around him.

He should find some food.

After a bit of prowling, he managed to find a pig, effortlessly pouncing on the animal and draining it of its blood, ignoring the way the metallic taste lingered in his mouth longer than it usually did, shifting out of his cat form as he reached the shore of the river.

He didn’t need to be at his cabin, but it felt… nice. Secure. 

He wanted to add Pearl’s scarf to the collection of fledgling tokens he had sitting in there. It felt… right to do so.

Making it over the stepping stones across the river, he continued on into the Dead Woods, everything tinted pink from the moonlight, the leaves of the trees almost absorbing the color like a sponge.

As he walked, a small feeling of contentment settled at the base of his skull. At first, he thought it was his own, but it felt…foreign. It wasn’t his.

I know your feelings better than you do.

Those weren’t his feelings.

He wasn’t feeling that way. He didn’t feel content. He felt…

Legs didn’t know how he felt.

Almost as sudden as he had noticed it, the feeling was gone, leaving an emptiness in its place.

It wasn’t his.

Slowly, everything started to feel lighter once his cabin came into view, bathed in the same crimson light as the rest of Oakhurst. Light flickered from inside from where he had lit an oil lamp earlier in the day.

Probably should’ve blown that out before he left.

Fire hazard.

He cleared his throat slightly, as if trying to expel the imaginary smoke from his lungs as he approached the cabin, pushing the door open and closing it behind him. 

The scent of pine needles immediately hit him upon entering, with the less intense smell of woodsmoke slowly following.

It isn’t Owen.

Owen isn’t here.

…But he could be.

“...Owen?” he called out, turning his head to fully survey the room, before his eyes landed on the open window, and…

Owen.

He was perched on the windowsill in his normal form, staring back at him. A warm red had replaced the brown of his eyes, a subtle change from before.

“Doc.” he acknowledged, giving a small nod.

“You can come in. The invite before wasn’t just for that house.” 

Owen blinked, before shifting to sit, his legs hanging over the edge of the window into the house before touching the floor, straightening fully. His eyes scanned the cabin, before going back to Legs. “You rebuild quickly.”

He shrugged. “I had time.”

Owen hummed before pausing, doing a double-take. “You scent marked with Pearl.”

Legs paused, the scent of roses and oranges curling around the edges of the room at the reminder. “I- Yes, we did.” he didn’t realize the change was that obvious. “I mean, it’s a normal practice in broods.”

It’s tradition.

Owen shook his head. “No, I know that. I just figured since you and Apo hadn’t, that you just didn’t do that.”

“They don’t like the idea of it, so we didn’t.”  he clarified.

“...Right.”

Legs frowned. “What?”

Owen shook his head again, glancing away towards one of the other windows as a wave of unfamiliar jealousy flooded Legs. “It’s nothing.”

Not his jealousy.

Owen’s.

Legs paused. “...I don’t think that’s nothing. Are you… jealous?”

The other vampire gave him a look. “No, I’m not-”

“I kno-”

I know what you’re feeling better than you do.

He cleared his throat slightly. “This empathy link goes both ways, Owen.”

Owen sighed. “That’s annoying.”

Trust me, I’m well aware.

“I suppose I figured that, operating under the assumption you didn’t scent mark with your fledglings, that it was just an us thing.” The jealousy still lingered, but it was fainter now; more restrained.

Kept hidden.

“That, and with what Shelby told me, I figured-”

Legs frowned. “Wait, what did Shelby tell you?”

Owen arched an eyebrow at him. “The… implications of scent marking someone that isn’t in your brood?”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Owen frowned. “Hold on—what’s that thing you're feeling?”

Legs didn’t even know the answer to that question himself.

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” he admitted. “I’m not exactly the most emotionally aware person, Owen-”

There was a loud crash from outside, like a branch toppling off of a tree. The wind had picked up since Legs had entered the cabin, blowing cold air into the room from the window. The firelight to flickered before extinguishing completely, flooding the room with red light from outside.

He sidestepped Owen, going to the window and shutting it, latching it closed. His eyes adjusted to the light change, vision clearing up almost immediately.

Legs glanced back at him. Owen was now bathed in the crimson moonlight, eyes glancing around the room, unblinking.

“Have I told you about Louis?”

Legs paused before shaking his head. “I don’t think you have.”

Owen’s gaze landed on him, and he could feel grief curling around the edges of his mind. Subtle. Pushed down.

“He was… the man who sired me. The only person who actually treated me like a person… before all of this.”

Legs’ gaze softened as he continued.

“He was the mayor of Oakhurst back then, about two hundred years ago.  He took good care of the town, and of its people. Never fed off humans from what he told me, and, knowing him, I believed him. I still do.”  Owen’s eyes darted back towards the window. “I always brought him these river rocks when I visited him in town, and he’d keep them on his desk. The mineral deposits in Oakhurst make the rocks quite colorful, so he said they ‘brightened up his office’.”

Why was Owen telling him this?

“...Did you ask him to turn you?” Legs asked him after a moment.

Owen paused. “No, I didn’t. He told me what he was, and asked me if I wanted to be turned. To get rid of the aches and sores of my ailment. To live with him forever.” another pause. “I said yes.”

The grief curled upwards like a flame in the back of his mind, flickering with an unsatiated rage.

Something had happened to him.

Legs gathered it probably wasn’t the best time to ask what.

Owen would tell him if he wanted to.

“He sounds like a good man.” Legs said after a moment of silence.

Owen looked back at him. “He was. One of the few good ones I’ve been able to know.”

He reached into his pocket before pulling out a smooth river stone, holding it out to Legs. It was the size of Owen’s palm, and Legs couldn’t quite tell what color it was due to the red moonlight bleaching all other colors from the scene around them.

Oh.

Oh.

Legs hesitated, before stepping forward and reaching out, curling Owen’s fingers back over the rock. “...I’m not a good person, Owen.”

“I think Apo and Pearl would argue with you there.” Owen pointed out. “Shelby as well.”

“Shelby sees the good in everyone.”

“Which means there must be good there to see in the first place.”

“Thats… ominously positive of you.”

Owen shrugged. “I’m in a good mood.”

Legs knew that wasn’t exactly true. He could still feel the flickers of anger below the surface, masked by well-practiced contentment and neutrality.

“That doesn’t change that I’m not good, Owen. You can’t just forgive the type of things that I’ve done.”

Twenty thousand four hundred and twenty-six.

Legs could feel the guilt start to seep into the pit of his gut. In his entire life, or whatever vampirism could be called, he never let himself forget that number. It’d be too easy.

“Doc, I’ve slaughtered an entire town.” Owen almost deadpanned. “Two thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine.” 

He had heard the number before, vague whispers among the townsfolk about what Owen had done.

Right before they burned his house down with him inside it.

“And what about almost tenfold that, Owen?” Legs gave him a look. “Twenty thousand four hundred and twenty-six.”

The silence that followed was…thick. Suffocating. 

“I’m not a good person, Owen.” he repeated. “I don’t think I ever have been.”

Owen stepped closer to him, one hand going to his wrist and pulling his arm up before pressing the river stone into his palm. It was smooth and cold to the touch, almost perfectly fitting into his hand. Owen’s fingers grazed his wrist, warmth flooding from the contact.

“Well, you’re good to me.”

Legs paused, the stone resting in his hand. “Owen-”

“I’m serious, Doc.” he interrupted. 

He stared down at the stone in his hand, running his thumb across the surface of it. 

Stones…

He’d seen the exchanging of trinkets between others in the company—dogtags they had no use for, empty bullet casings, canteens…

River stones.

Legs had never partaken in collecting or giving trinkets—he never really had the space for any of it.

But this…

He could do this.

“...Thank you,” his voice was quiet as he looked back at Owen.

Legs wanted to kiss him.

It was a…foreign feeling, but a strong one. Was it a feeling? He wasn’t sure.

Owen hummed slightly, and Legs looked back at him, arching an eyebrow. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, just… your feelings are warm.”

“Oh.”

“It’s like this…feeling at the base of my skull.” Owen hesitated before reaching up towards Legs, his fingertips skimming the side of his neck before pressing against the back of his neck and into his buzzed hair, where his skull joined up with his spine, moving closer as he did so. “Here.”

Warmth spread from the contact, but he wasn’t sure if it was just that, or also Owen’s feelings.

“Yeah, that’s… where the empathy link is.” Legs murmured, slipping the river stone into his pocket. “Owen..”

“Legs.” Owen looked back at him, crimson eyes unblinking.

He hesitated before gently cupping Owen’s face with his hands and kissing him softly. 

Owen’s lips were slightly chapped, and cold against his. The kiss lasted for a moment before Legs pulled away, his gaze flickering over Owen’s face.

His pupils were slightly blown, his hand sliding to the side of Legs’ neck. “Oh.”

Legs’ thumb brushed Owen’s cheek before pulling away. “Yeah…” 

Owen’s hand slid to the base of his neck, tightening slightly before kissing him. Legs leaned into the kiss, one of his arms dropping to wrap around his waist, gently pulling him closer.

Warmth spread from the base of his skull down his neck, and his wrists tingled, the scent of pine needles flooding his senses. 

The kiss lingered, the two of them separating eventually. Owen pressed his face into the curve of Legs’ neck, a small sigh escaping him. “You smell like sage,” he murmured.

A crease formed between Legs’ eyebrows. “Really?”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “It’s nice.”

Legs paused. “Scott said it was antiseptic.”

“I mean, it is a bit.” he pressed a kiss to the side of his neck before pulling away slightly, looking at him. “But it’s also sage. And this… other thing. I don’t know what it is. Almost… nutty?” Owen shrugged. “It’s nice.” 

Legs’ hand closed around Owen’s arm, pulling it up and pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “You smell like pine needles.”

Owen bit back a laugh. “That sounds about right.”

He kissed Legs again, his hands sliding back up his neck. One of them stayed resting on the curve of his neck, while his wrist lightly pressed against different spots of his neck.

What is he doing?

Legs stifled a laugh, pulling away slightly. “What are you doing?”

“You can scent mark on the neck as well, right?” Owen looked at him. “Just trying to figure out where I’m supposed to.”

He bit back a smile. “...Do you want help?”

“No, no, no, I’ve got it.” Owen assured him as he proceeded to press his wrist in the wrong spots.

Another laugh escaped Legs, and he gave him a look. “Oh, shut up.”

Legs gave him a small peck on the lips. “Hold on, it’s right…” his hand slid up the side of Owen’s neck, before pressing his wrist behind his ear. Warmth immediately sparked at the contact, and he could feel the other vampire lean into the touch. “There.”

A soft rumble came from Owen’s chest, and his eyebrows raised, looking at Legs. “Uh-”

He bit back another smile. “The purring is normal.”

“Purring?” Owen sputtered. “We can do that?”

Legs nodded, and Owen dropped into a crouch, covering his face with his hands. “God, that’s embarrassing."

Legs looked down at him, a smile curling at his lips before he lowered himself onto the floor next to him. He wrapped an arm around Owen’s shoulders, and Owen lowered his hands slightly, glancing at him.

“I can feel your embarrassment from here.” 

“Oh, shush,” he pushed Legs’ shoulder lightly before scooting closer to him, their knees brushing. Owen’s hand slid up the side of his neck. 

“So it’s here,” he murmured as the inside of his wrist pressed behind Legs’ ear, warmth sparking at the contact.

Legs hummed in acknowledgement before drawing him into a slow kiss, hand cupping the side of his face. He could feel the rumbling build in his own chest as the warmth spread down his neck.

Owen grinned against his lips. “It is a bit cute.” he murmured. 

Legs broke from the kiss, leaning his forehead against Owen’s, their noses brushing.

Owen moved closer, slipping into Leg’s lap and wrapping his arms around his torso, hugging him close.

“You’re comfortable.” he murmured, tucking his face back into the curve of Legs’ neck.

His hands slid up Owen’s back, fingers lightly pressing into his ribs. Pine needles and woodsmoke consumed his senses entirely, and he never thought the smell would bring him so much comfort.

He could stay like this for a while.

Chapter Text

Legs’ steps were quiet through the dark woods surrounding Oakhurst. The sun was once again making its descent below the horizon, casting the area in a peachy glow as it did. He wove between the trees, honing in on Owen.

The empathy link between them had strengthened, and Legs could tug on the tether of their emotions, almost like an echo, to find out where he was.

Owen had been in the same spot for a while, in the middle of the woods between the castle and town, high up on a hill and out of sight, and, after not seeing him for the past two days, his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

After passing through a dense cluster of trees, a small, L-shaped cabin came into view. It was made of the same dark wood that filled the area, camouflaging itself well in the trees, yet also standing out. A stone chimney stuck up from the roof, smoke billowing out from it. He could see the same firelight flickering in through one of the windows.

Owen has a cabin?

Legs crept around the side of the cabin, glancing through windows before he saw him.

Owen was sat cross-legged on the cot in his cabin, a piece of wood in his hands as his claws gently carved at the piece. His crimson eyes were narrowed in concentration as he flipped the piece around in his hands.

Legs stepped closer to the window, hesitating before gently tapping on the glass.

The noise caught Owen’s attention, his head immediately snapping to the window. His gaze softened, scooting over on the cot closer to the window before opening it, bringing them face to face.

“Doc.”

“Owen.”

“What brings you,” Owen cleared his throat slightly.

“You did,” Legs said. “I didn’t know you had a cabin.”

“It’s… newer,” he clarified. “I could feel you tugging on the link. Is that how you found me?”

Legs blinked. “You could feel that?”

Owen nodded. “...You can come in.”

He wordlessly scooted away from the window, still sitting on the cot as Legs came in, his boots landing on the wood floor.

The inside of the cabin felt a lot smaller than it looked on the outside. A collection of small stones cluttered the top of a makeshift workbench, where a few other carvings sat. He could tell what these ones were, at their completion; a bear, a horse, and a crow. The scent of pine needles clung to the walls like ink to parchment; obvious, yet perfectly placed.

He settled on the cot next to Owen as he looked back at the carved piece of wood in his hands.

“What are you working on?” Legs asked him, leaning closer to look over his shoulder.

“Just something to keep my hands busy.” Owen murmured, carving a divot into the piece. “It was a hobby I picked up when I was still alive.”

Legs hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of his face as Owen continued to take small chunks of wood out of the carving, taking on more shape.

“You’re good at this.” he whispered, resting his chin on Owen’s shoulder as he watched intently.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” His voice matched Legs’ volume, setting the carving down before pressing closer to him. 

“Why’d you stop?”

“I’ve been carving for a day straight.” Owen shifted, looping his arms around Legs’ shoulders and burying his face into the crook of his neck. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Legs murmured, arms sliding around to his back and tugging him closer. 

Owen leaned into him, pushing Legs down onto the cot fully before laying on top of him, resting his chin on his shoulder.

The weight was comfortable on Legs’ chest, and his arms tightened around Owen. The other vampire seemed to almost sink into Legs, breathing out a sigh he didn’t need.

You’re comfortable. Owen’s voice was a whisper in his mind, tugging around the edges of his thoughts.

You are as well. 

Owen lifted his head, raising his eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Oh-” Legs cleared his throat slightly. “It’s—stronger empathy bonds can lead to… telepathic links.”

“Really?”

He paused. “...How much do you know about vampirism?”

“...Not much.” Owen admitted, resting his chin on Legs’ chest. “Louis told me a few things, but he… he died before he could really teach me anything.”

Legs didn’t need him to elaborate to get the picture. There’s no peaceful way a vampire can truly go; only by wooden stakes and unquantifiable amounts of bloodshed.

He knew that tune too well.

We don’t need to talk about it. He pressed a small kiss to Owen’s hairline.

…Thank you.

Legs’ fingers found their way into his hair, toying with the curly strands at the base of his neck. Owen’s hair was… softer than he expected. A bit tangled and matted in places, but still soft under his touch.

He gently pressed his wrist against the side of Owen’s neck, just behind his ear. Warmth spread from the contact, and Owen grumbled something incoherent, burying his face back into the crook of Legs’ neck.

We need to do this more often.

…Yeah. We do.

Legs wasn’t sure how long they had laid there, as the sun fully disappeared below the horizon and the moon took its place, the crimson light almost more intense than usual.

A strong thrumming echoed in his ears, like the absence of a pulse in his wrist and breath in his lungs.

Something alive.

Owen’s head perked up slightly, and Legs untangled his fingers from his hair, the two of them managing to sit up, their legs still tangled together.

“...Is that a blood moon?” Owen squinted slightly, looking past Legs and out the window.

He turned around, his eyes landing on the full, bright red moon hanging in the sky, peeking out from between the trees. It was bright enough that it could’ve been the middle of the day, if it weren’t for the blood-soaked sky and the light that came from it.

It’d been a while since he had experienced one of these.

Legs nodded slowly. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s a blood moon,” a small grin curled at the edges of his mouth.

His gaze went back to Owen, who was still staring out the window intently.

Wanna go for a run?

Owen looked back at him, the moonlight glimmering in his eyes.

Absolutely.

——————————————————————

Legs’ surroundings passed in a red blur as he darted through the trees in his wild cat form, his paws barely making contact with the leaf-ridden ground below. He could hear Owen’s footsteps beside him, the other vampire dropping stealth in return for speed.

The sound of wolves howling in the distance was almost completely drowned out by the sound of wind rushing past his ears as they both jumped over a small creek that split through the crowded woods. Branches broke under their steps as they finally broke into a clearing in the trees, the red moonlight bathing the area and bleaching it of any other color.

Owen had slowed to a stop, grinning up at the sky. This is amazing.

Legs sat, his gaze going up to the same break in the trees, at the red-tinted stars surrounding the scarlet moon. Yeah. I forgot what these felt like.

Owen looked back at him, the grin still evident on his face, before he reached out and scratched the side of his head, next to his ear.

Legs gave him a look that he tried to convey as mild disappointment before leaning into the scritches, tilting his head slightly.

Owen huffed out a small laugh before crouching down in front of him at eye level, cupping Legs’ face with his hands and pressing a kiss between his eyes, where his scar was. It didn’t transfer too visibly into his cat form, only a slight discoloration in the brown and white fur.

Legs pressed his muzzle against Owen’s forehead lightly, before his ears perked up at the sound of rustling in the nearby trees.

Owen looked up before rising into a stand, and Legs turned around, seeing a bat emerge from the trees at an alarming speed before shifting into Apo.

She blinked in surprise, their gaze going from Legs to Owen. “...What are you guys doing?”

“We went on a run.” Legs said. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Pearl.”

His still-heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. “What happened?”

Apo blew out a breath. “I was taking Martyn hunting and she and Cleo decided to tag along, and… she overindulged and turned into this thing. I have no idea what it is, but I have no idea how to get her out of it.”

Legs shared a look with Owen before looking back at her. “Lead the way.”

The three of them took off in the sprint, weaving between trees as they made it closer to town. The sound of howling had gotten louder as they approached, before immediately skittering to a stop as Apo halted.

Legs could see Cleo and Martyn through the trees, Martyn hiding behind one of them and Cleo trying to talk down Pearl.

Or… what Legs assumed was Pearl.

The beast that had taken her place was almost as big as the dark trees surrounding them, towering above the rest of the vampires. White fur covered her form, bleached pink by the moonlight, and her eyes shone red.

It was almost uncanny to…

A werewolf.

The only knowledge on werewolves Legs had came from the glimpse of memories he had gained after turning Pearl, and it was identical in build to what she had been fighting in the particular memory.

“What the fuck?” Owen raised his eyebrows. “Is that her vampire power or something?”

“I-” Legs paused. “I never had that conversation with her. It could be.”

“Now is not the time for this conversation.” Apo sighed. “We need to do something before she goes rampaging towards town.”

If going up a stage was what triggered the transformation, then…

She had to be taken back down.

Without pausing to consult Owen or Apo, Legs launched out from the trees, his claws grappling onto Pearl and his teeth sinking into the meat of her shoulder. She howled, the sound almost grittier than a normal wolf. Blood poured from the marks left in the wake of his claws as she attempted to shake him off.

Legs needed to hurt her enough to detransform, but he didn’t want to. Even in his wild cat form, the metallic taste of blood that filled his maw was tinged with memories tainted in guilt.

I’m sorry, Pearl.

He unlatched his jaw from her shoulder before continuing to claw his way up her back, leaving deep marks in her back.

Please don’t scar, please don’t scar.

Please don’t scar.

Pearl’s claws dug into his hind leg in an attempt to pull him off, and his claws raked through her back, blood seeping from them wounds.

How did she have so much blood in her?

How much did Apo mean when they said she overindulged?

Something shifted, and Pearl started to shrink. Her limbs jolted violently, snapping violently back into what resembled arms. 

Legs landed back on the ground, shifting back into his normal form. His hands were coated in Pearl’s blood, already starting to crack and dry on his skin.

When he looked back at Pearl, she was… different. 

Her blouse was soaked in blood, for one, but her hair had changed, too. Her brunette hair faded into an almost icy blonde closer to the ends, and her eyes seemed a bit more grey.

He stepped towards her. “Pearl… Are you okay?”

Pearl blinked, running a hand through her hair. “...I don’t know. Did I just turn into a werewolf?”

“Is that what that was?” Martyn’s voice came from beside them, and they looked over, seeing the blond poke his head out from behind one of the trees. His eyes were darting between the two of them, seemingly still trying to process the situation.

Legs nodded. “Pearl, can you turn around for me?”

“Doc-”

“Please.”

She reluctantly turned around, and his eyes went to her back. The gashes were knitting themselves together slowly from what he could see through the cuts in her blouse.

Slower than they should be.

They were going to scar.

Vampires didn’t usually scar—that’s what one of the benefits of their healing was. Wounds would close up as if nothing had happened in the first place, and it’d be okay.

But it was different when it was a sire against a fledgling.

He knew from experience.

Legs could feel the echoes of pain across his back, mirroring Pearl’s injuries, a dull ache against his nerves.

That was… interesting. Owen’s thoughts lurked around the edges of his mind. His eyes darted briefly towards the treeline, the space Owen had once occupied now empty.

Cleo stepped back into view, having retreated into the treeline during the fight. “How’s her back healing, Doc.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Apo’s eyebrows shot up. “Not the fact that she can apparently turn into a werewolf or that Doc just mauled her?”

He made eye contact with Cleo over Pearl’s shoulder, and her eyes narrowed at him.

They knew.

“It’s… healing.” he answered. “You’ll be fine.”

“Vampire healing sure does wonders, huh?” Pearl turned back around, grinning slightly.

Legs’ brow creased in concern. “Pearl, I’m sorry, I-”

“Doc, it’s fine.” she said, possibly in an attempt to reassure him, though he could say for certain it did not work “...I have an idea.”

“Please don’t do that again.” Apo interrupted from where she stood in the trees, hands tucked into the pockets of their dress.

“Chill, that’s not what I’m talking about.” she reassured them. “I just have a hunch that maybe if I…” Pearl trailed off, before her form shifted, shrinking down…

Into a dog.

Her coat was white and brown, pattern akin to a type of herding breed.

Pearl sat on the grassy ground. “...I honestly thought it was going to be a lot cooler than this.” she admitted.

Legs didn’t even have the mental capacity to start processing her comment.

I did that.

I hurt her. 

Those scars were going to stick with her until the day she died, and that was because of him.

“Doc, can I have a word with you?” his gaze snapped back to Cleo, and there was no escaping the edge in their voice. “Alone.”

He nodded, glancing back at Apo before following Cleo into the trees.

He wasn’t sure how far they walked, the silence deafening and only broken by the occasional snap of a branch below their feet and the crows in the distance.

It wasn’t until they reached the lake where a beacon tower stood in the center when it started.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Doc?” Cleo yelled, pushing him in the chest. It barely moved him, but the impact was there. “Why would you do that?”

“You think I wanted to?” he gave her a slightly bewildered look.

“Considering that was the first thing you jumped to after arriving, yes, I do! I had it handled fine.” 

“I did it to keep her safe, Cleo! You do know what would happen if the town found out, right?” he  wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince; Cleo, or himself.

It was to keep her safe.

“That wasn’t your call to make, Legs!” They rubbed their eyes. “What if she didn’t want to go back to town? Or what if there was a different way of de-escalating that didn’t involve you mauling her? That didn’t involve you scarring her?”

Each word felt like silver needles stabbing into his gut, and it took all of his will to stop his voice from shaking.

“I did what I knew would work.”

 “Did you? Did you actually know it would work?” Cleo asked him, but they both already knew the answer.

He didn’t.

The silence that followed was heavier than that which filled empty cathedrals after funerals, for the soldiers that had nobody to mourn them. 

He had felt that silence before.

“I suggest you don’t come around town anytime soon, Doc.” Cleo said, giving him one last look before disappearing back into the trees, leaving him on the hill overlooking the lake.

He shifted into his bat form, taking off past the river and towards the Dead Woods.

Towards the cabin.

His cabin.

In his bat form, it took him almost no time to arrive, landing on the grass and transforming back into his human form before stepping inside, making a beeline for the cot.

He knew vampires couldn’t sleep. It was one of the many things he had to figure out on his own before starting to conduct his research. Sleepless nights staring up at canvas ceilings were too familiar to him.

He curled up on his side, back facing the rest of the room with the pale wood of the wall in front of him. He could lie there for a day or a year, and it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

The scars are supposed to remind you.

His hand rubbed at the scar that scraped down his neck and around his shoulder, just below the neckline of his tunic. 

Why do you keep fucking up?
It’s in our nature to be this way. You can hide behind medical textbooks and scalpels but that doesn’t change anything.

They won’t let you be anything else here. Why would they when you’re just so good at destruction?

He registered the door opening, and the silent footsteps that followed in its wake, flooding the cabin with the scent of pine needles, but he made no move to acknowledge it.

The cot sank under Owen’s weight as he laid down beside Legs, wrapping his arms around his torso, Owen’s cheek pressing against his shoulder.

I’m here.

…I know.

Chapter Text

Legs crouched down in front of the fire that flickered to life under the stove. Heat wasn’t vital, but it was still comfortable. 

The familiarity of the motions was nice, too. A ghost of something that died a long time ago.

Owen had been lingering around the cabin a lot more often since the blood moon, the collection of river stones on his windowsill expanding greatly since.

He was out hunting at the moment, leaving at the first hint of sunset.

It was a bit stupid, but Legs missed him a bit.

It had barely been two hours.

Once the fire started holding steady, he stood up from in front of the stove, watching the smoke travel up before disappearing into the stone chimney.

Hm.

The door to the cabin opened, and he turned, his gaze immediately landing on Owen.

Oh.

His brown curls had been bleached into a pure white, a bright contrast against his skin. His eyes remained the same dull crimson, but it matched the new red tunic he had.

He looked good.

“You look nice.” Legs smiled at Owen as he approached, pulling the bag off from his shoulder and setting it on the floor near to the stove, clinking with glass bottles. “Good hunt?”

“Yeah.” Owen smiled back. “Almost got all of them filled.”

“That’s good.” Legs took Owen’s hands in his, pulling him into a kiss. He could still taste the crimson on Owen’s lips as his hands slid up to Legs’ shoulders, resting there idly.

Owen pulled away from the kiss. “I got you something.”

Legs raised his eyebrows. “You did?”

He nodded, reaching into the pocket of his trousers. “I stopped by my cabin on the way back because I remembered that I carved this.” Owen pulled a small wooden figure out of the pocket before holding it out to him.

Legs took the small figure, looking at it in the firelight. It was a small cat, carved out of dark wood that fit into his palm. The cat was sitting, its head tilted to the side ever so slightly, and the face had a small divot across the nose, arching upwards.

He looked back at Owen. “Thank you, Owen. This is… This is amazing.”

He smiled at Legs. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” he set the figurine on the windowsill next to the stove, a different one from where he had stacked the river stones Owen kept giving him.

I love y-

Legs almost immediately shook the thought. He couldn’t think like that.

He couldn’t let that thought be a reality.

“Where’d you get the shirt from?” he asked Owen, turning back to face him.

“Oh, it was… It was one of Louis’ shirts.” he cleared his throat slightly. “He showed me where he kept an extra stash of clothes in case of emergency, and they were still there.”

Legs hummed. “Louis had good taste.”

“Yeah… yeah, he did.”

He paused. “Do you still have your old shirt?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s in the bag.” Owen arched an eyebrow. “...why?”

“...Did Louis ever tell you about vampire tokens?”

He furrowed his brows slightly. “I think he mentioned it once in passing. It’s usually a brood thing, right?”

“Yeah, it’s usually fledgling to sire, but there are other circumstances where other close vampires trade tokens.” Legs crossed the room and crouched next to the cot, reaching under it before pulling out a dark cloak. “I was thinking maybe we could trade.”

“Oh.” Owen looked at him from across the room, his gaze landing on the cloak.

“We don’t have to-”

“No, no, it’s-” Owen cut himself off. “I’d love to.” he went back to the bag he set next to the stove, digging through it before pulling out the cream tunic that he had been wearing before.

Legs smiled softly, crossing back over with the cloak. The two traded garments, handing Owen the heavy cloak and taking the tunic from him. The scent of pine needles and woodsmoke almost radiated from it, though he wasn’t sure if the second part was just from him, or from the stove.

The fabric was coarse, almost a linen texture, worn with age and seemingly a larger contrast compared to what his new tunic was made of. The difference in quality was stark, and it made Legs wonder.

Owen fastened the cloak around his shoulders, the heavy fabric draping behind him like a waterfall. It was a bit bigger on him than Legs, but that just fed into the dramatics of it.

“It looks good on you.” Legs murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Thank you.” Owen wrapped his arms around him, tucking his head under Legs’ chin. 

Legs toyed with his now-white curls. The entire time he’d known Owen, it had all been pulled back into a ponytail, gathering around the base of his neck and trailing down his back in puffy, undefined curls.

“Can I braid your hair?”  he murmured, pulling back slightly to look at Owen fully.

Owen paused. “...I’m not sure if it’s in the best condition for braiding, but you can try if you wish.”

“I think it could be a fun challenge.” 

The two of them sat down on the cot, Owen sitting closer to the edge while Legs sat behind him, his back against the wall. Owen’s hair was quite tangled, and it took several long minutes to even get a dent through them, combing his claws through Owen’s hair. 

A soft rumble came from Owen, leaning into the touch as Legs continued gently working through the knots.

“It’s not fair that you’re good at this.” Owen murmured, fidgeting with a small piece of wood in his hands.

“I’ve had practice.” Legs untangled the last of the small knots and started working on the larger one that sat just below where his hair had been tied back with twine. It was very matted, the curls more of a frizz in this area. It would’ve been easier to handle with a comb, but Legs wasn’t often in the business of taking care of hair, so he didn’t have any on him.

Nevertheless, he slowly managed to separate the strands as the crimson moon rose higher into the sky, more of its scarlet light flooding into the room, the firelight from the stove dying out. 

After that was the braiding. 

“Can you sit up for me?” Legs asked Owen, who groaned in protest before reluctantly straightening his posture.

Legs had never braided curly hair before, but it was a lot easier than he thought. Owen’s hair was a lot thicker than he had originally expected, making the braid larger.

He tied the twine at the bottom of the braid, fastening it off. The braid went halfway down Owen’s back, appearing longer than his hair usually did.

Legs’ eyes glanced around the cabin before pausing, getting up from the cot. “Stay still.”

Owen arched an eyebrow at him, his eyes following Legs as he opened one of the chests, pulling out a bundle of daisies. 

“Really?”

“Humor me.”

Owen huffed out a sigh in faux annoyance, barely hiding the smile twitching at his lips.

Legs walked back over to the cot, sitting down behind Owen. He started weaving the daisies into his hair, tucking the stems between strands. The yellow centers of the flowers stood out in his hair, the added color brightening his appearance.

“Alright, it’s done.” 

Owen turned, giving him a look. “I’m supposed to be scary.”

“...You’re terrifying.” It wasn’t a total lie—Owen himself was terrifying, but…

At the moment he looked everything but.

The yellow of the flowers went well with his skin, almost softening his appearance.

“Thanks.” he deadpanned, clearly not believing him.

“And thank you,” Legs said to him. “For putting up with me.”

Owen scooted to sit next to Legs, his back pressed against the wall, before leaning his head against Legs’ shoulder.

A tug pulled deep in his gut, and Legs looked at Owen.

New Blood.

“Again?” Owen sighed, flopping back on the cot, a few of the daisy petals falling from his hair and scattering. 

He was beautiful.

“You’re staring.” he murmured, making eye contact with Legs.

I know.

Legs leaned down and kissed Owen, cupping his face with a hand.

Owen sat back up slightly, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. One of his hands slid up to rest on the side of Legs’ neck, fingertips pressing into his skin.

Legs grinned against his lips, his other hand sliding around to Owen’s back, tracing small patterns along his spine. He instinctively counted the vertebrae, his hand traveling up towards his neck.

…29, 30, 31, 32, 33.

I can hear you counting.

Legs pulled away from the kiss. Like you aren’t constantly recounting our bottles.

I never said it was a bad thing.

Owen pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw, lips brushing against his stubble before trailing down the side of his neck. 

Legs felt a rumble start to build up in his chest, wrapping his arm around Owen’s waist and pulling him closer.

There was a loud crash outside, and Owen pulled away first, his head snapping to look out the window. “What was that?”

Legs frowned, his gaze going out the window, seeing a small flurry of movement before the door burst open, Shelby tumbling through. “Something happened-” they cut themself off, glancing between them. “...am I interrupting something?”

It seemed that Owen wasn’t the only one who had reached a new stage. Shelby’s hair, which was once red, was now a reddish-white, with a small tiara atop her head and a dark brown cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Her dress matched her hair and tiara, made up of different shades of red, black, and white.

Her dress, with white sleeves stained with fresh blood.

Legs shook his head slightly. “Doesn’t matter. What happened?”

Owen swatted his shoulder lightly, but turned his attention to Shelby.

“Can I come in?” a new voice interrupted.

Legs’ gaze shifted to the doorway behind Shelby, to the figure standing just outside the cabin.

Avid.

Owen’s eyes went between Avid and Shelby. “You turned him?”

Shelby bit their lip and nodded. “Yeah… But he asked me to!”

He what.

Legs and Owen shared a look, and Legs sighed. “Yes, Avid. Come in.”

The new fledgling tentatively stepped inside, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly once crossing over the threshold. His purple eyes did a double take of Owen.

“...Owen?”

“Yes?” he arched an eyebrow at Avid.

“...You have flowers in your hair.”

“Yes. I do.” Owen stated, narrowing his eyes.

“You look very pretty.” Shelby commented, smiling.

He did.

He really, really did.

“Besides the point.” Legs stood up from the cot. “What happened. From the beginning.”

Shelby cleared her throat. “Right. So. Avid came to me in the woods after Pyro and Scott helped me find some new clothes,” they gestured to their dress. “I was looking for some flowers to put in an old vase I found in the crypt. He asked me to turn him because there was… something hurting him. Making him sick.” she paused. “So I did.”

As she spoke, Legs could see Avid slowly shift behind her, almost in an attempt to hide. He continued to fidget with his sleeve, almost as if it was itching him. 

Legs looked at Owen, whose gaze was fixed on Avid. Avid seemed to shrink under his watchful eye, fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt.

Legs sighed, crossing the room towards the stove, picking up the bag Owen had left earlier and opening it, handing one of the blood bottles to Avid. “Animal flesh is usually more effective when you’re newly turned, but this is all we have right now.”

Avid hesitated before taking the bottle from Legs, uncorking it and taking a sip. 

Due to his proximity to Shelby, Legs could now smell the faint, almost older scent of pine needles clinging to the fabric of the cloak.

Is that where Owen’s cloak went?

He remembered noticing Owen’s lack of cloak a few hours after he had given Legs the river stone, but never got around to asking about what happened to it.

Hm.

“Does anyone else know he was the one who got turned?” Legs asked her.

“We ran into Apo and Cleo on the way here. Other than that, no.” Shelby answered, sticking her hands into the pockets of her dress. “...I don’t know how Scott and Pyro are going to react.”

“They’re going to find out eventually.” Owen mentioned from where he still sat on the bed, now cross-legged. “Whether you tell them or not, they-” he stopped mid-sentence, his gaze going past Shelby. “Why do you still have that.”

Legs’ attention snapped back to Avid, who held a stake. Not in an active stance, his fingers picking at the wood on the handle.

“Get it away from them.” Owen all but snarled, crossing the room almost in an instant, snatching it from Avid’s grasp, opening the window, and full-force throwing it out of the cabin.

Avid paled, eyes widening. “I’m sorry! It’s- it’s a force of habit, I’m sorry.”

“You better break that habit if you plan on living past tonight.”

“Owen-” Legs started, but Owen cut him off.

“No! He can’t just expect to be able to carry those around without causing issues.” Owen glared at Avid, who immediately shifted to hide behind Shelby, ducking his head.

Shelby glanced back at Avid, then at Owen and Legs. “...We should probably go. I… We need to tell Scott and Pyro.”

Legs nodded. “That’s… I hate to admit agreeing to anything regarding giving Scott information, but that’s probably for the best.”

“He isn’t that bad,” she assured him. “He’s just… misguided, sometimes.”

That didn’t reassure Legs as much as he assumed Shelby meant it to.

“He is pretty cute.” Avid added.

“Out.” 

“Yep, leaving! Bye!” Avid grabbed Shelby by the arm, and the two of them promptly exited the cabin.

Owen waved at Shelby as the two of them left before sighing heavily. “Out of all the humans left in Oakhurst, and it had to be Avid.”

Legs rubbed at his eye. “You’re preaching to the choir, dearest.”

“...Dearest?”

Oh fuck.

“Uh-” he looked back at Owen. “Sorry-”

“No, no, it’s…” he trailed off. “It’s fine.” Owen paused for a moment. “I think I could get used to that, darling.”

A fuzzy feeling filled Legs’ chest at the words.

He could get used to that.

Chapter Text

“Alright, I’m heading out.” Legs pulled the bag across his shoulder, looking back at Owen, who was whittling at a piece of wood with his claws. 

Owen looked over at him. Flowers still dotted his white hair, missing a few petals but the majority still in tact. “I might not be here when you get back, I want to go and get the rest of the carvings from my cabin.”

“I’ll still see you when you get back.” Legs crossed the room towards where Owen sat on the cot, giving him a small peck on the top of his head. Owen’s hand latched onto his before he could walk away, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

Be safe.

I will.

Legs crossed back over to the front of the cabin, exiting out into the day. The overcast sun prickled at his skin, and the uncomfortable scent of burning flesh immediately replaced the warmth of pine needles that had started to become an innate comfort to him.

The coverage of the trees was a welcome solace from the sun as he shifted into his bat form and wove through the branches, towards the river. It was his turn for hunting, and he had missed it, in a way.

Legs hadn’t taken on his wildcat form since the bloodmoon, and he wasn’t even sure if it’d…

If it’d work to make the memories stop.

To make the guilt stop.

To make it all fade into the background of his mind, out of sight.

And if not…

He’d shove it under the floorboards instead.

After crossing the river, he touched down on the rocky beach, moments before his bat form timed out, immediately shifting into his wildcat shape. His joints clicked as everything molded into place, before he took  off into a sprint through the thicket.

Legs lost himself in the motions of hunting; sneaking through the grass, a sheep or cow drawing his attention, before pouncing and swiftly killing it.

He stopped after the first four, managing to drag them all to the same clearing before shifting back into his humanoid form, cracking his neck slightly.

He had only drained the blood out of one of them, the metallic taste still lingering in his mouth as he crouched down and began draining the blood into bottles, carefully setting them back in the bag once full.

Legs couldn’t deny that the power that coursed through him from feeding didn’t feel good—it felt great. A little more and he knew it’d tip over into stage 3.

Maybe he should-

I don’t remember letting you do that.

His hand slipped, the half-filled glass bottle tumbling onto the glass, spilling the crimson.

Shit.

Legs picked the bottle back up, glancing at the small puddle of red that had stained the dark grass, already seeping into the moist earth.

Draining the rest of the corpses didn’t take long, full bottles quickly taking up space in the bag resting on his hip until it was almost overflowing.

That was enough.

He stood, his shoulders tensing at a loud rustling through the branches of nearby trees. Before he could react, a bat flew into the small clearing, its wings flapping frantically.

Legs didn’t recognize the bat—it wasn’t Owen, and certainly wasn’t Apo. He hadn’t seen Pearl’s bat form yet, so the light-furred creature could be her-

The bat shifted into a person, quickly revealing to be Martyn. A white streak ran through his blond hair, and his usually-blue eyes had gone a dull purple.

Oh.

“Oh, Doc.” he panted, breaths he most certainly didn’t need (still within the adjustment period Legs reminded himself). “They- they found out.”

“...I gathered.” he glanced around before looking back at Martyn. “Are you okay?”

Martyn nodded, leaning against one of the thick trees. “Yeah- I’m fine. I think I lost them in the woods.”

“Lost who?”

He paused, his eyes glazing over slightly, tinting his scleras pink. “Erm- Sausage and…” Martyn cleared his throat. “Sausage and Ren.”

Oh…

“Oh, Martyn…” Legs eyebrows creased. He admittedly didn’t know the relationship between the three of them, but when he was still in town, they had seemed… close.

Martyn sniffed, wiping at his eyes. Red stained the side of his hands and just under his eyes at the action, the bloodied tears starting to run down his face. “It’s fine, I… I should’ve expected it would happen eventually.”

Legs stepped closer to him, wrapping his arms around the young vampire. Martyn immediately sunk into the embrace, letting out a broken sob.

He was so young.

It was one of the first things Legs had noticed about Martyn when arriving into town. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty, still full of life.

He knew Avid was around the same age, but he could tell there was something different about the vampire hunter (now vampire). Something in his eyes that was older than that.

It wasn’t the same with Martyn.

But they were both still kids.

There was another rustle from within the woods, and Legs’ head perked up, hearing faint voices.

“-think I heard him over this way-”

“We must keep going, don’tchaknow. The darkness plaguing Oakhurst must be stopped!”

Sausage and Ren.

Martyn pulled away, eyes wide. Blood streaked down his face, staining his now-pallid skin a salmon pink.

“You need to get out of here.” Legs’ hands went to his shoulders. “Go to the river, by the bend with the large rocks. Shelby goes there at night to look for river stones, they can help you,” his gaze went up to the sky, where the sun was slowly making its descent towards the horizon. “She should be there in a few hours.”

Martyn frowned slightly. “Where are you going?”

Legs’ pointed ears twitched slightly as the sound of footsteps got louder. “Buying you time.”

“Ah, doctor, what perfect timing ye have.” Ren’s voice called from behind them, and he turned around, pushing Martyn behind him and almost coming face-to-face with a knocked arrow from Ren’s bow.

Sausage unsheathed his sword from beside him. “Not quite who we were looking for, but two’s better than one.”

“I wouldn’t count on that for you.” Legs turned slightly to glance behind him, and Martyn was gone. He could see the leaves parting from the trees as something invisible pushed its way through.

Good.

“Where’s Martyn gone, doctor? What is this darkness at play?” Ren narrowed his eyes behind his glasses.

He took a smooth step backwards, creating distance between him and the silver arrow. “I couldn’t possibly say.”

“Look, Doc, how about we make a deal?” Sausage offered. “You tell us where Martyn went, and we’ll be on our way. You’re not who we’re looking for.”

Legs narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two of them. “...I couldn’t possibly say.” he repeated.

The arrow flew from Ren’s bow, firmly sticking into Legs shoulder, the silver burning into his skin. Legs’ claws extended from his nailbed before slashing at him, grazing Ren’s arm.

Ren stumbled away, blood seeping from the wound as he knocked another arrow. 

Meanwhile, Sausage swung his sword, and Legs ducked, sidestepping before making an attempt to swipe at him. Another arrow lodged into him, the tip digging into his side and burrowing farther than he had expected.

He ripped the arrow out, sidestepping another blow from Sausage before the sharp sting of silver cut into his abdomen.

Legs made eye contact with Ren, who had pulled out his sword, leaving his bow discarded in the grass. The sword came out of his abdomen coated in sticky, coagulated blood, and Legs lunged for him, before a sharp pain cut through his neck and everything was torn away from him.

Legundo had never gotten used to the taste of blood in his mouth.

He had been serving for almost ten years at this point, right out of school. The war effort needed soldiers, and he was just what they were looking for—strong, capable, healthy as a horse.

Determined to leave the wilting country town he was raised in, even if it meant signing his life away to a cause he didn’t fully believe in.

To a game where men died young.

That’s what war was, wasn’t it? A game of chance, betting with lives and resources with a hope that they’d come up topside.

Legundo was a chip in the large pile that made up the game of life or death, and it didn’t matter all that much to him what happened to his in the end.

What did matter, was what happened to Leon.

Legundo’s boots thundered against the ground, slick with blood. Leon’s arm was slung over his shoulder, his head lolling to the side as he stumbled beside him, blood seeping from the wound in his side.

“I need a medic!” he shouted, stumbling closer to the camp. They had been ambushed while on patrol around the perimeter of the camp his platoon had established. Neither of them had seen it coming.

Legundo should’ve seen it coming.

“I need a-” his voice died in his throat as a fiery pain exploded through it, followed shortly by a loud bang. Hot, thick blood trickled down his throat as he collapsed under the weight of Leon. He could feel the vibration of several sets of boots breaking out into a sprint, getting closer.

His vision fuzzed around the edges. It had already been bad, with the loss of vision in his left eye and the permanent damage in his right, but this felt different. 

It felt like something was shutting down, like switches were slowly being turned off in his head, one by one.

Legundo felt someone roll him onto his back, muffled shouting passing by his ears as if they had been filled with candlewax, barely audible.

A pure white filled his vision, and at first, he had thought that it was the end. The so-called “light at the end of the tunnel.”

It was no light.

A dull pain pierced through the side of his neck, an odd, almost underwhelming contrast to everything else.

Then everything sharpened. Only for a moment.

Long enough for him to see white, coarse hair, pulled back into a bun, and crimson red eyes looking down on him. Long enough for Legs to hear the voice that would follow his waking moments for the next century.

“He’ll be back soon enough. A good soldier always is.”

——————————————————————

Legs shot up from the cot, hands grasping for his neck, feeling for the ghost of a wound that wasn’t there.

One that hadn’t been there for seventy years.

He didn’t even notice he was breathing until he registered how much his lungs burned with every unnecessary respiration.

In and out. In and out.

Stop that. You don’t need it anymore.

Legs pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing his back against the wooden wall. Bloodstained light filled the cabin, seeping in from the window. His gaze then went up to the ceiling as his breathing slowed to a stop, his chest lying still.

The cabin door burst open, and he flinched, seeing a blur of movement and white hair.

Shit.

No, no, no.

Panic flooded his veins, his body tensing up as his gaze unfocused, vision blurring.

Get away, get away, GET AWAY.

“-oc? Legs, look at me.” Cold hands cupped his face as a weight settled on the cot next to him. “Look at me.”

Everything seemed to sharpen all at once.

Owen.

It wasn’t Anya. 

It was Owen.

He was in Oakhurst.

He was in Oakhurst, in his cabin, with Owen.

Breathe.

Don’t breathe.

Legs’ gaze focused, and Owen’s dark red eyes came into view.

“...I didn’t know your eyes were green.” Owen murmured, his voice warm in contrast to the cold of the cabin. The comforting scent of pine needles flooded his senses, and Legs felt his shoulder slowly start to relax.

It wasn’t Anya.

Anya always smelled sharper, like the edge of a knife. Yew berries mixed with gunpowder and almonds.

It was Owen.

This was Owen.

“...Yeah,” his voice was quiet, barely reaching his own ears.

“Who did this?” Owen got up from the cot in almost an instant, and it took Legs a moment to process what he was talking about.

Sausage had killed him.

“Owen-” he started, untucking his legs and standing abruptly, subconsciously expecting the head rush that never came.

He didn’t have the blood for that anymore.

“I’m serious, Legs.” Owen turned around on his heel, looking back at him. “Who killed you? I could feel what you were feeling, Legs. Don’t try to downplay it or make excuses for them.” he paused. “You were terrified.”

Legs paused before answering, steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t possibly say.”