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What Darren could not seem to make himself understand, no matter how hard he tried to rationalize this recent turn of events, was why?
Why did he have to wake up here of all places, at this specific point in his own history? If Evanna had meant to make things better, to stop their futures from converging in a bloody, violent end then why not just send them all back far enough so as to avoid this madness altogether?
He knew, after all, that it had to have been Evanna who'd orchestrated this clusterfuck. The ancient witch was the only one outside of her father or perhaps Mr. Tall who'd have the ability to alter time itself, and unless this was some twisted game setup by DesTiny himself for shits and giggles, then there was little rhyme nor reason for it all save Lady Evanna’s rebelliousness and desire for a different outcome than the one her father had worked towards for so long.
Gods, this was mind melting… He was genuinely starting to consider adopting the Vancha lifestyle, maybe if he just acted like a wild beast for long enough he'd actually become one and the literal forces of the universe would stop being his problem.
“A load of good that seems to have done for Evanna though….” He muttered morosely to himself, acutely aware that if DesTiny wanted to keep pressing the envelope of how much his sanity could take, there were few places on earth to actually hide.
Darren was just starting to switch gears and reflect on Evanna's final, cryptic words to him before he'd woken up here when he was jolted from his web of thoughts by the warm and heavy weight of a familiar material as it settled across his shoulders. The coat's folds engulfed his too-small frame like the waves of an ocean might swallow an unfortunate ship, and he realized belatedly that Larten had passed over his coat in a floundering but awkwardly genuine attempt at offering up some comfort. The ginger haired vampire had already began moving away again by the time Darren was back to being fully aware of their surroundings, clearly hellbent on avoiding any difficult conversations for the moment, but for all that his mentor's evasiveness often irritated him he found that for the time being he didn't much mind.
He was grateful for the knowledge that despite their shared confusion, Larten had still found the time to be concerned for him. Sooner or later, a serious discussion would become necessary, but for a while so was damage control and gathering together their bearings. Once Larten had disappeared again, his broad shoulders slipping off between the flowing hills of granite death that surrounded them, Darren let out a heavy breath of unease. He felt terrible, physically stretched thin from the effects of a serum he'd long since almost forgotten about and beyond emotionally drained.
Had turning really hurt this much the first time? His bones were like brittle glass held together by sinew about to snap, which sucked majorly no thanks to the looming need for foot travel.
Curling inwards at the sound of irate yelling, Darren concealed his face with the sharply tailored crimson material and tried to focus on the positive with hope that his mentor's familiar scent might do something to calm his nerves.
Number one for the positives, everyone they'd lost had either yet to be born in Shancus’s case, or would still presumably be alive given the whole Kurda-council mess had yet to occur in this timeline. That meant that Arra Sails, Gavner Purl, and countless others were still breathing.
Number for the positives two was a bit of a gray area considering every possible way that the tables could turn and go to shit, but the war of the scars was yet to begin and Steve was currently under control. Speaking of which….
Larten swore like a sailor as he dragged Steve, crudely bound and gagged, across the grass with what looked like a fresh bite mark on his hand. There was something akin to murder in the vampire's eyes, an emotion that Darren could empathize with.
Did technically being related to DesTiny mean that you could, theoretically, rip the man's head off?
“This brat is trying my patience! Why bother dragging him all the way to vampire mountain when we should just kill him?!...” The elder hissed, unceremoniously dropping his cargo like an unwanted sack of potatoes.
Darren winced, less sympathetic than he was pitying for Steve's current plight. It'd been his idea, after coming clean about his first post-turning meeting with Steve all those years ago, to restrain his former friend's younger self and bring him along. Larten had been beside himself with disappointment and fury upon hearing what Darren had kept from him for so long regarding the confrontation in the cemetery, but had mercifully relented upon noticing just how weak and unstable Darren was after being dug up for the second time, though his mentor had made it clear that they'd be speaking upon that particular subject in detail later.
“Do not forget that here you are not a prince yet.” Larten had spat venomously, his hands disproportionately gentle in comparison to his words as he tried to clean the excess dirt from where it had stuck itself to Darren's face.
Darren had argued that at this point Steve's mind was still salvageable, and that for all the bad his older self had done, he could even be molded into a useful vampire. It obviously wasn't ideal that either of them be blooded, but since Darren was to be denied the chance for a type of life that'd allow him to help Steve away from such a path in other ways, their best bet was to be blooded together. There would be no convincing Larten to sire another child vampire, especially if it was Steve, but in a few years he could see Steve drawing the interest of other vampires in the clan. He just had to play a convincing part until then, make everyone play nice until the world's greatest crises had been averted.
It was a beyond insane idea, but if he could only keep Kurda from betraying the clan in the future, then maybe the blonde vampire's more peaceable nature would mesh well enough with Steve's Stevelines to buffer their collective revenge fueled demise.
Ugh, he was getting way too far ahead of himself, wasn't he?...
“Because if you kill him I'll kill you!” Darren snapped back hoarsely.
It was an obvious bluff meant entirely for show, but one obvious only to those who'd known him since his time in the mountain. They'd been over this beforehand, Larten and he, and they'd agreed that Darren would need to act a lot more like his ten-year-old self would've done if any of it was going to come off as believable. It felt both wrong and weirdly cathartic in a way, but they were good at playing off of one another after years as a duo on the stage, so it came almost naturally to put on such a performance.
“Perhaps I should just leave you both here and be done with it before the sun comes up.” Larten snorted, turning away to finish packing as though this was all just another Tuesday for him.
“Great idea, maybe then we'll never have to see you again…” Darren grumbled, grabbing the coat and flipping it off with a wrinkle of his nose as he realized what continuing to wear it would look like from Steve's perspective.
He'd apologize for that later, when he was strong enough to wash it.
He really hoped that his mentor knew just how much he didn't mean what he was saying and doing at the moment, but a show was a show and this one had to go on. As far as Steve was concerned, he was just a bitter fledgeling and Larten, for all of his child-turning enthusiasm hated nothing more than the presence of said children despite his bipolar moments of small kindness.
They really were going back to their roots here, weren't they?
Turning briefly back again to glare disgustedly at Steve, Larten snarled.
“Be grateful that your little friend was so adamant I not bring you harm, as far as I am concerned you are the spawn of a devil, but Darren here has made it very clear that should I try to harm or leave the he will find as many ways as possible to make my life difficult.”
With that, everyone fell silent. Steve and Larten both genuinely seething while Darren watched them both under a weighted blanket of exhausted hyper vigilance. The need for words had ended temporarily, primed to react just in case it arose again. He shivered, already missing the damn coat even as Larten scooped it up.
“Are you ready to depart?”
Larten's voice cut through the foggy dark of predawn some ten minutes later, an uncharacteristically hesitant light glowing from behind his cerulean eyes. He was clearly doubting Darren’s ability to keep pace, a thing of necessity given Steve's presence. The vampire would have to carry Steve, leaving Darren to travel under his own power for the time being.
“Yes… But be careful with him, yeah?” Darren sighed, trying very hard not to feel any envy as Steve was tossed over Larten's shoulder with one arm while the other hand took hold of what'd once been their suitcase of shared supplies.
Darren was, of course, left in charge of Madame Octa.
Just like old times….
“No promises!” Larten laughed, self-important and smug.
Darren fought the urge to smack him as, together, they all set off into the night.