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His feet carried him through the town, one destination on his mind. Today was one of the biggest days within Oakhurst, and he would never miss it for the world. Well, no. He would miss it, because he thought the attention they placed upon him was… well, stupid. He wasn’t the only one who founded the town, and there was more to the world than this. He had medicine to create, patients to treat, and the world could never stop spinning for a day. Yet, he let himself succumb to the noise, succumbing to the crowd.
The 19th of August. That was the date.
Insignificant to many.
But to the town?
This was the so-called “birthday” of one of their founders.
Birthday was a strong word, something out of a fairytale or a life that wasn’t his. Today marks the 425th anniversary since he was turned as a vampire. How he had actually kept track of this for so long, he couldn’t tell you how, but he was as old as ever, looking as old as ever. He wasn’t blessed with vampirism in his youth like most others. No, rather he gained it when he was already a monster, already someone who was trying to heal and not harm and ended up harming anyways.
It wasn’t as though this fact mattered to many. No, far from it. In fact, in the eyes of most, he was a hero, a saviour, the man who could cure the incurable. Vampirism was a blessing, a divine intervention to keep those who deserve it alive longer. If it were up to him? Death was divine, over being immortal, though what was he to do but live for those who couldn’t?
Living for death, dying to live, they were both one in the same. Especially when it comes to celebrations like this. Especially when you were never meant to live this long. Especially when-
“Oooooh, birthday boyyyy!” It seems as though he wouldn't even have the opportunity to attempt to work today. “C’mere, it’s your celebration!”
“I’m on my way, just let me-”
“Ah-ah. Come on. Pyro’s covering for you and you know they’re capable enough on their own.”
“I know, but-”
“-you’re still worried? They’re having people send us hourly check-ins, and they’ll be done before you know it.”
“...Fine.”
He found himself being pulled into a hug, face burying itself in hair to hide from the crowds while arms slipped around his waist. He heard the other man giggling, pulling him closer, hands tracing over his body. It felt almost intimate, a touch a couple would share over reminiscing over their wedding vows. Yet, they were far from married, far from a couple. The one thing that he would get to reminisce over today was his vows to the city as he repeated them once more. The one thing he would get to reminisce over was the fact he was far older than most, and would never get to be young again. Not that he minded, not when he was in the arms of a man who cared for him and knew him inside and out. Not when he was given a man he could build a town of love with, and raise someone who was practically his son with.
The day was still young (unlike him, he supposed) as he was dragged across the town and up into the tower which held itself tall in the centre of the celebrations. As the sun rose, he would say his vows, wish the town a wonderful day, and start the day celebrations. People would laugh and cheer and party, drinking red wine as though it was blood and eating plentiful amounts of food. He would stand, along with his man (could he call him that? He wasn’t entirely sure), watching over everything. They would celebrate in the silence, in the muttered words, in the hands that touched and craved and spoke into the nothingness that was life.
After four hundred and twenty-five years, Legundo did not feel much older than he was on the day he got turned. That day was the day he swore to heal everyone no matter the cost. That day - when she dug her fangs into his skin as he was bleeding out to die - was the one that changed the course of his life. For the better or for the worse? He had yet to decide.
As they reached the top of the tower, reached the peak of the town’s time, he felt arms tug him back, tug him closer.
“You’re tense.”
“When am I not during events like these?”
“When they’re not yours.”
“....Touche.”
“Legundo, it’s fine. Nothing will happen. Not today, not tomorrow, not in twenty-five years.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“I can be sure of the first two..?”
Legundo found himself sighing, and arms tugging him closer.
“You remember what you say?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. I believe in you. You just say it, wish them a good day, and then you can collapse into my arms and I can talk to you aimlessly while you hold me close until the public desires your social interaction.”
It was easy enough: it was every year.
Looking back, he wished he still got to do this.
He was made to lead, made to utter words of reassurance.
He was made to hide away like a coward.
He was made to heal the hands which held him close.
He was made to harm everyone with no regard for anyone but himself.
His hands shook as he stood up to address the town.
His addressing of the town was far different now, much more calculated and a lot less love.
“The citizens of Oakhurst, it is my greatest honour to get to speak to you like this.
To speak to you as equals, rather than as your leader.
I repeat the words I have told you many times before.
The words I crave and beg to repeat just one more time.
I swear that I will protect the town no matter the cost, no matter who gets hurt nor who gets saved.
The blood on my hands never fades from that day, the blood gathers and pools at my feet. So many civilians died. I could’ve - should’ve - saved them.
I swear that I will use my vampirism for good, and to save those who can be saved in no other way, as a blessing bestowed upon myself for this reason.
It was never my entitlement to select who lives and who dies. I simply get to tell their story in the eyes of a God who no longer cares for me.
I swear to keep myself under control, to use simple food supplies which cannot hurt the town.
There was so much blood. So many bodies.
I swear this town will stay safe under my watchful gaze, today, tomorrow and every
day for the rest of my life.
Twenty-five years. It only lasted another twenty-five years. Twenty-five years on this day was when the blood covered me and them. They raided the town, and we left nobody standing.
I wish to give you all the celebration of a lifetime, one of the few days a year we all get to relax.
They get to relax forever now, a permanent fixture of time beneath the soil and the mud which made up the Earth’s lifeline.
Now, go, enjoy the feast given to you, for this is a day of celebration.
Enjoy it until you die, because this was the last day you got to live.”
Walking the empty town walls again made him remember the distant memories of a love that once grew here. Now, the town was engulfed by a hatred which could never welcome him back within his own walls.
…
Not unless he pathed that path for himself, with blood and devastation running rampant in his heart.