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When Owen's body hit the ground, it was with a thud, going fully limp like a puppet who's strings had been cut. Abolish kneeled down next to the man, thumb carefully pressing against his throat, feeling the rhythm of a heart that hadn't beat in two hundred years only to slow down to a stop once again. He was gentle when he closed the others' eyes, uncomfortable with the way the life disappeared from them as he watched Owen's breathing stop, "You're okay, you've made your choice, you will be reunited with Louis again."
He preferred this over any violent burning or staking; really, Owen didn't have to die, he could've gone on with his life, wether to rebuild Oakhurst or to leave the town for the first time in his existence, but he had made the choice to pass, and this was, without a doubt, the most peaceful the human had ever seen him. In the few instants where the blood had returned to his face, his skin was lovely and warm, even marbled, his features were softer and more relaxed than they'd ever been, and his long white curls, though frizzy and not too well maintained, made him look like an angel.
He was glad that his end was gentle, because Owen didn't seem like a man who had known much gentleness in his life, and he was glad to be there, because then, there would be at least one person on earth that would remember him as something other than a troubled monster. He had hoped, for a second, that maybe, just maybe, the vampire would choose to come see the world, to not let Oakhurst be the only place to have known his existence, but from the little he knew of the man, he couldn't imagine him going into society, nor could he blame him.
"I hope afterlife treats you kindly," he smoothed the other's clothes gently, feeling as if he invaded his privacy when he pulled out some small object from his trousers' pocket, "oh," he cradled it in his gloved hands for a little bit, it was a small trinket, really; a small wooden bat, no doubt carved by the recently deceased, it was nice, even if not the most polished or fine piece of art he'd seen in his life. To him, it wasn't was mattered. He decided Owen wouldn't mind if he kept it; a parting gift, maybe, something to remember the other man by, a proof of his existence.
When he scooped up the corpse, it was heavier than he expected, but he managed to carry it down the tower and set it onto the grey moss of the cliff. The light of the rising sun, filtered through the thin clouds that seemed to always be in Oakhurst's skies, casted soft, warm light onto the cured vampire's skin, smoothing his cheeks that illness and malnutrition had hollowed out long before Abolish' grandparents were a thought in anybody's mind. He dug out a grave, hopefully deep enough for no scavenger to disturb the man's final rest, before carefully lowering the body into it, and covering it back up with brown soil.
As he finished working on Owen's headstone, he thought about maybe coming back, if he could even leave, in a few years, to plant a tree not far from the lumberjack's grave; he figured that it could be an apology for burning down the forest he loved so dearly.