Chapter Text
"So," Owen started at the drawling voice, not having heard anyone approach, which wasn't too surprising considering he had no heartbeat to catch. "Two hundred years?"
Owen turned, harsh eyes landing on a blue haired Scott. A freshly revealed Goldsmith. Owen was still upset about that, how it led the noble to claiming his meal. He was still so hungry, animals not cutting it.
"Yes," he answered begrudgingly, glancing around to ensure no one overheard them.
"Everyone is out and about. I checked," Scott said, examining his nails which had grown slightly sharper since feeding on Pyro.
"Why do you ask?" Owen questions, not particularly wanting to talk to Scott, but admitting curious to where this was going.
Scott shrugs. "Just checking. I haven't worked with another elder in ages, even before being put to sleep. What territory are you from?"
Owen stared at him blankly for a moment, not knowing what he meant exactly. "...I'm from Oakhurst."
Scott raised a brow, pale red eyes meeting brown. "Ah, so that wasn't a lie then. Intresting," he hummed, tapping his lip. "The humans were so worried about me and mine, but we still lingered."
"We're resilient," Owen said matter-of-factly.
"Of course we are. We're just better overall. They should have just accepted that, rather than turning on me," Scott snarled the last part, fangs showing before he steeled his expression. "But clearly they got what that deserved."
"You're welcome for that."
"What do you mean?"
"I was their downfall. I massacred Oakhurst two hundred years ago."
"In your fledge years? Did your sire not control you or something?"
Owen's eyes went wide and a growl escaped him as he tensed as if to attack. "Don't mention him."
"What? Were you abandoned?" Scott asked, a sly grin twisting at the reaction.
Owen shook his head stiffly, trying to control his anger. "They killed him. So, I returned the favor."
Scott's smile fell slightly, as if poor sireship was more amusing to him. "Ah, I see. How tragic," he said in a bored manner. "And what? You just stook around in the ruins?"
"I buried myself, trying to forget what they did to him," Owen answered quietly. He never did forget, everything was ingrained in his mind. His own memories and those he had killed by drinking their blood.
"Wait." Scott's voice pulled Owen away from truly reminiscing. "You buried yourself this entire time?"
"Yes?"
Scott scoffed, but his grin was back in full swing. "So, you're practically still a fledgling."
"What?" Owen snarled, tensing again.
The grin widened. "Come now. You were not trained by a sire and didn't even use your years to experience and learn. Not to mention you barely hit the mark for the elder title. Therefore, you're a fledgling."
Owen ground his teeth, but instead of continuing to fight, he turned around and walked off. He was too hungry for this shit. He could hear Scott chuckle under his breath and he sent a withering glare over his shoulder before turning a corner.