Chapter Text
Request: Silent Faith
Patients always lie to doctors; that’s why Legs had gotten good at spotting inconsistencies. And there were a lot of inconsistencies in the man called Abolish.
It’s not like the Doc was trying to pry. The man dressed like a butler and was unerringly polite. Helpful. He played the part so convincingly that Legs kept second-guessing his own instincts. But… little things would catch his attention — the unconscious way that the man’s hand would curl, as if used to the shape of a blade. The subtle shifting of weight, whenever Scott came within ten feet. The slight bulge of a knife, concealed in a boot.
The way those boots were always polished to a mirror-finish.
Was that vanity? Part of the uniform?
Or camouflage?
Abolish wasn’t just a butler, whatever he said, but who here didn’t have a demon or two lurking in their past? Legs kept his eyes open and his suspicions to himself. After all, if doctors are good at spotting liars, they’re also very good at one other skill:
Keeping secrets.
Request: Firelocke
Abolish and Pyro were childhood friends, though Abolish knew him then as Jack. Abolish was the quiet, brave lad who played the piano and enjoyed reading. Jack was the loud, animated one who liked coming up with wild theories and never stopped talking. He was also a bit of a scaredy-cat, but that never seemed to bother his friend. When bullies threatened Jack, they soon learned to fear Abolish’s retribution.
They were each other’s closest companion until the day that Abolish’s parents died.
Suddenly, Abolish was just gone, and no one would talk about what happened. There were plenty of rumors about the parents’ deaths — wild gossip about blood and murder, violence and devil-worship — but nothing about the boy. It was like Abolish had disappeared, and Jack was told to forget about him. He never could.
So, years later, when Pyro meets an earnest, dark-haired young butler in Oakhurst who goes by the name of his childhood companion, he immediately takes notice. No one else seems to pay much attention to this quiet, serious man, but Pyro can’t look away. He compliments Abolish’s outfit. He subtly digs for details to confirm his suspicions, while wondering if Abolish will recognize him. He wonders why his heart squeezes a little when Abolish never seems to.
But then Pyro is turned into a monster.
Suddenly, being seen — being known is a terrifying thought. Still, he is drawn to Abolish and continues to interact with him. He has a hard time not blurting out everything eating him inside on that first long walk to the lake, before Abolish reveals what happened to his parents. When Pyro finally gets confirmation that this is, in fact, his old friend returned to him.
Abolish’s parents had been killed by monsters like him; how could Pyro ever reveal himself now? He resolves then to keep an eye on Abolish and try to protect him if he can (though a part of him is becoming a little hurt/resentful that Abolish still hasn’t given any indication that he recognizes Pyro).
Meanwhile, Abolish has clocked Pyro as a vampire, almost on the same day it happened. Blue eyes becoming red is a rather obvious tell, but then again most of the people in town seem suicidally unobservant. So he shares small tidbits about his past, hoping to provoke a reaction or even a confession from this animated and awkward young noble. What he doesn’t expect is the flash of sorrow that crosses Pyro’s face. Sorrow and… guilt? Abolish resolves to keep a close eye on this one.
Meanwhile, Pyro finds that he can’t stay away from Abolish. It starts with finding excuses to visit the town. He plants wither roses. He stalks the streets, invisible. The new power is thrilling, bringing with it a sense of agency — of control — that he’s never experienced during his short life. It makes him brave. Pyro is surprised, then, when one night while stalking Abolish that the young man turns and stares directly into the shadows hiding him. When he calls out like he expects someone to answer. The surprise causes the vampire to misjudge, dismissing his invisibility before he means to.
Pyro plays it off like it was intentional. He hands Abolish the rose he’s carrying like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Abolish gravely takes the bloom.
Thanks him.
It flusters Pyro so much that he makes another mistake.
“Call me Jack,” he says, grinning like it’s a joke.
Abolish’s eyes widen a fraction of an inch.
Pyro flees before anything else can be said.
Request: Brick Duo
“Damn.”
Cleo glares down at the gash in her palm like it was a personal insult. She’d been cutting seed potatoes in half, an attempt to stretch the town’s next crop a little further, when her knife had slipped. Red welled up along the three inch gash, dripping down across her fingers to enrich the earth below.
Her mouth twists. More blood for the soil of Oakhurst. At least it’s just hers this time.
She flexes her fingers, noting that the flow was already beginning to slow. Her former master’s blood was beginning to wear thin, but it would be enough for this. Cleo files the wound away as “not serious” and picks up the next potato. Sure stings, though.
“Cleo!” The exclamation startles her, nearly causing her to slice a finger off. (Now that would have been annoying. Fingers take days to grow back).
“Doctor? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? You’re bleeding!” The Doc is standing ten feet away, arms full of firewood. He drops it now into an untidy pile and strides over to her, closing the distance in seconds despite his limp.
“Oh, this?” Cleo raises the offending hand. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me, Doc. I’m sturdy.”
(Please don’t notice me. You might see something I can’t explain.)
Ignoring her protest, Legs catches her hand with gentle fingers and turns it over to examine in the fading sunlight. The wound already looks hours old, dark blood oozing along the gash to mix with the dirt on her hands.
“Sturdy or not, you can’t leave this uncovered. The human body rots faster than vegetables sometimes, if you don’t take care of it.”
Cleo winces. (A bandage would draw even more attention to the wound; Pearl would notice, and Cleo would have to pretend to favor the hand for at least a *week* to keep up the charade). This was becoming annoying.
She tries one more protest. “Please, Doc — it’s not all that serious. You should save your supplies for something more important.”
Legs’ looks up from his examination of the wound. “More important?”
His eyes search her own. Cleo is startled and a bit unnerved to notice that one of his eyes seems dead; the pupil moves but lags behind the other eye — the lively green one that moves twice as much, as if to make up for the lack. That eye is locked on her face, as though searching Cleo for wounds that are not so easily visible. For the first time, she notices the raw intelligence behind the Doctor’s gaze. Intelligence and something she wasn’t used to seeing directed at her:
Compassion.
The Doctor gently folds her fingers into his own. “This is important to me. And so are you. Indulge an old man?”
Cleo swallows past the stupid lump in her throat. It would be far better for this meddling doctor to forget her existence. Once she became a vampire, his compassion would dry up like a shallow pond in the summer heat. Nothing would come of this but blood and tears.
But she doesn’t pull her hand away.
(Please don’t notice me)
(Please don’t look away)
“Fine. But tie it tight. These potatoes aren’t going to plant themselves.”
Request: Trustbites
Consider:
What would happen if the town discovered a vampire — a new one — wandering in the woods? If Abolish managed to convince the rest of them to bring it back to the Doc rather than staking it on the spot? And I use the word “it” here because the poor thing is damaged; hurt so badly that most would consider killing it a mercy.
But Abolish and Doctor Legundo are not most people. The first realized pretty quickly that the vampire was not attacking everyone and everything in sight, despite the massive trauma to its body. And the Doctor had seen mortal flesh mangled almost as badly.
They give it blood. Animal blood because, even with a throat half-missing, it refuses the Doc’s proffered wrist. The first thing it says to him when vampiric healing has repaired the damage to its neck and jaw is “Thank you.” The Doctor clamps his teeth around empty promises, but allows himself a shred of hope for the first time. His patient has turned a corner.
Meanwhile, things are going poorly in Oakhurst. The fragile trust that the Doctor had managed to forge with Owen is deteriorating rapidly against the backdrop of the town’s hostility. When Martyn outs Apo as a vampire, he feels compelled to step in and pretend to be one himself. Fingers are pointed at the vampire — the horribly vulnerable vampire — still under Legundo’s care, and he instantly regrets the lie. But the town agrees to leave the two of them alone as long as Legundo can guarantee that there will be no further “accidents”.
Vampiric healing being the wonder that it is, Legundo’s newest patient makes rapid progress. Within days he is sitting up. Talking in short sentences. Copper-colored hair begins to sprout from his scalp and his smile is no longer a ghastly rictus of mangled lips and missing teeth. But he can’t remember who he is.
He can’t remember much of anything.
The Doc takes to calling him “V”, just to give them both something to hold onto. V is courteous. Refined, even. Despite the coarse surroundings of this little backwater clinic, the vampire’s mannerisms and grace reveal him to be someone of careful upbringing. Thankfully, V knows that he’s a vampire — it’s not something that Legundo has to awkwardly explain to a person with amnesia. V has been a vampire for so long, in fact, that he’s able to offer helpful suggestions for handling the multitude of untutored fledglings running around Oakhurst. (V is absolutely horrified at what has been going on).
Perhaps the most amazing thing of all, however, is that he can perform the minor miracle of making the Doctor laugh. V’s quiet, steadying presence in the clinic is a balm to Legundo’s tattered nerves, and the one bright spot he can look forward to at the end of every wearying day. The two spend long evenings chatting about everything from the town’s current troubles, to the advances in medicine over the past few centuries. For the first time in years, Legs even manages to open up a little about his own past. (Not too much, but more than he’s been able to share with anyone since the War).
Being able to help V also bolsters the Doctor’s confidence; perhaps he can make some progress with his most difficult case, if he gives it just one more try.
V overhears Legundo asking Abolish to accompany him to the lake late one night. The way he says it — asking the man to follow him and trust him — raises alarm bells. The unmistakable stench of garlic consumed directly afterwards confirms V’s fears. Legundo was going to meet with a vampire he considered dangerous. What if it was the old one who had been abandoning all of these fledglings? The one whose name could raise a growl even from the ever-forgiving Doctor? V couldn’t let his new friend face that kind of danger with just a single man to protect him.
He owed Legundo a debt. Plus, V liked him.
Unfortunately, it takes him precious minutes to track and follow Legundo to the lake. V is just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation that, to his heightened senses, seems to be going south very quickly. Legundo stinks of frustration mingled with fear, his heart rate elevated as he faces off with a vampire that V has never seen before. The pain in the young man’s voice is like a raw nerve, tugging at every instinct V has to protect the vulnerable. Was that a… fledgling? The newcomer carries the scent, but there’s something that bothers V about him. Something he can’t quite place…
All at once, things are happening too quickly. The newcomer screams at the doctor, and V is astonished to see that Legundo doesn’t even raise a shield in defense. Abolish is nowhere to be seen and the vampire isn’t listening to whatever the Doctor has to say. He rakes his claws down Legundo’s chest, staggering the man, then raises his hand for the killing blow.
V moves.
V is not a fighter; he never has been. But it takes no great skill to be a shield. He throws himself across Legundo’s body, raising his hands to block the incoming blow.
Which never comes.
There is a fractured second of utter shock. V gets the impression of large, dark eyes and untamed white curls before the vampire lunges at him. V flinches, anticipating the rending of teeth and claws, but is instead crushed into an embrace that is almost throttling in its intensity. The sounds that the newcomer is making aren’t growls — they’re sobs. Choking, gasping, heart-rending sobs that immediately change all of V’s horror and confusion into pity. He wraps his arms awkwardly around the vampire and tries to make sense of the whole situation. This close, the fledgling scent is unmistakable. V breathes it in, brow furrowing as he tries to place the other scent overlayed on top. He pats the fledgling’s back awkwardly, soothing and tutting until the sobs and strangled gasps finally resolve themselves into words.
Or rather, just one word. Over and over and over again:
“Louis.”
With the name, comes memory. Quiet afternoons spent reading aloud. Timid jokes that provoked startled laughter. A biting sense of humor, quickly covered, but that could be teased back out into the light again with patience. Holding hands. Sharing secrets.
And a name.
“Owen.”
Not just any fledgling: his fledgling.
His everything.
Request: Moonrot (Reversal AU)
“So… that’s new.”
“What?” asks Cleo, glancing up from the broken sickle that she is attempting to repair with cursing and sweat.
The two women are out in the early evening air, having made a temporary escape from the chaos inside the castle. The little-used tower rooms on the north side of the castle provide a perfect refuge for two vampires, being both too cold and too dark to be comfortable to the refugees crowding the lower levels. The mass of new faces certainly livens the place up, but the sights and scents are… somewhat overwhelming. Especially to a vampire as new as Pearl. She had thought that the change would come naturally to her; after all, she’d spent years with better than average hearing (and smell) than your garden-variety human. But the way her mouth fills with venom every time someone in the castle gets so much as a paper cut was enough to drive her crazy.
Pearl nods down at the courtyard, her arms resting lightly on the balcony rail.
“That.”
In a sheltered spot out of the chill winter wind, Doctor Legundo gives quiet instructions to one of his youngest patients — a girl with wild and frizzing red hair — as she hobbles about on a new set of crutches. The child gets to one end of the courtyard and turns, wobbling slightly, before starting her way back towards the vampire. As heartwarming as the sight is, however, it isn’t that which had attracted Pearl’s attention. Owen is there, too — mister two-thousand-seven-hundred-and-ninety-nine. Mister “There is no world in which we marry sides”.
Mister I’m-keeping-an-eye-on-you, Pearl thinks quietly to herself.
Cleo follows Pearl’s gaze, then sets the broken tool aside to join her fledgling at the railing. Together, the two watch Owen as he watches Legundo, while the doctor monitors the child. Pearl tries not to smirk.
The former vampire (it was still so strange to think of him that way) is crouching against a nearby wall, observing the proceedings with lidded eyes. For once, though, he isn’t looming, or pacing or perching on anything ominously. He is just… watching. And smiling.
The smile is quickly hidden when the Doc glances in his direction, but it isn’t replaced by Owen’s habitual scowl. Instead, Owen nods when Legundo calls him over, the lumberjack rising to join the doctor and his patient in the center of the courtyard. Legundo hands him one of the child’s crutches, and Owen immediately pulls out a whittling knife, kneeling down to make adjustments to the length.
“Strange, isn’t it?” says Cleo.
“I’ll say,” replies Pearl. “I didn’t think those two were even friendly Before.”
She doesn’t have to clarify what she means by “before”. The last several months are a horror that will have to be unpacked gradually, a red haze of fear and suffering that neither is ready to talk about yet.
(At least Pearl can talk now.)
(At least her teeth aren’t cutting her tongue to ribbons while she whines through a voice box that is more animal than human — dry-eyed only because her brain no longer seems connected to her tear ducts.)
(She wanted to be the one to kill him. Why couldn’t she have been the one to drive the stake through his miserable heart?)
(A warm rush of concern flows into her mind, a wave of fierce protectiveness that beats back the darkness, banishing the thoughts before they can tug Pearl back under.)
Pearl finds herself gripping the railing, her new claws gouging deep furrows into the stone. Her sire gently covers one of Pearl’s hand with her own, eyes full of concern.
The new vampire clears her throat, wrenching her mind away from The Red with an effort. She flounders for a moment, then manages to pick up the tattered thread of their conversation.
“Didn’t Owen try to kill him at one point?”
Cleo squeezes her hand once and then nods, smirking just a bit at the scene below. “Yes. At least once. To be honest, I don’t know all the details. And I don’t think either of them likes to talk about it much anymore.”
Below, Owen hands the crutch back to the girl with grave solemnity. She takes it, then surges up on her toes to give the former vampire a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to her exercise. The lumberjack looks stunned; his hand jerks towards his face before a fit of soft laughter from the doctor halts it in its tracks. Owen straightens quickly and then resumes his place at the wall, ears burning. Notably, he does not run away or try to rip anyone’s head from their shoulders.
Pearl’s eyebrows rise into her hairline.
“Are you sure that’s Owen down there?” Her voice is incredulous. “Cleo… what happened to him? To them?”
Cleo takes one look at Pearl’s expression and bursts out laughing. The sound startles a flock of ravens that had been roosting in the tower’s eaves — they glare at the two reproachfully as they take wing, cackling and spiraling towards the ice blue sky. Pearl can feel heat rising to her face, but it is so good to hear Cleo laugh for once that she doesn’t truly mind. In fact… she honestly can’t remember the last time she’d heard the sound.
“Oh,” Cleo wheezes. Amusement flutters across the bond between them, warming the monster hunter to her core. “Oh Pearl, I’m sorry. I know it isn’t funny, but I have no way to explain what happened to those two without sounding insane.”
Her eyes sparkle, brilliant and red and free. “You just… kind of had to be there.”