Chapter Text
Have you ever had a knife driven into your gut?
He had. He knew exactly what it was like to feel the metal blade slide smoothly into the space below his ribs like it was finding a new home amongst his intestines. He knew what it felt like for the blade to be dragged across, cutting through his innards like Achilles through the Trojans. He knew what it was like to look into the smiling face of the man holding the weapon as they both became soaked in his blood. He knew what it was like to feel the last of his life escape from his limp body as applause filled the air.
If asked, Scott might still say that he would rather feel that every day for the rest of his facsimile of a life than feel what he currently felt every time he looked at the faces of the people who had wandered into his theatre and onto the stage he had spent the last 2 millenia or so haunting.
He looked at the sleeping face of his roommate, because how could he not accept Shelby's request to live with him. He remembered taking her hand that first day and he never truly let go of it until she died. When he was given the chase to be by her side as she fell into a new world with enthusiasm and a kind of joy that was infectious even to his long dead heart how could he do anything aside from fall into step by her side.
He was entranced by the gentle movement of her chest as she snored softly in her sleep. He should probably go out hunting to get stronger, especially with that Avid character screaming about vampires and throwing garlic in his face, but he couldn't find it in himself to move from his silent vigil over the young woman who shared the face of the person who could be called his first true friend.
He could hear the discussions of the other occupants as their words travelled to his ears on the winds that never truly abandoned him, even when their master did. He let the familiar voices soothe him even if he didn't truly listen to the words. His attention remained on the face he had captured in all manners of mediums over the years he had spent without her. Paint, charcoal, poetry, prose: none of it could capture the way she made herself a little home in the hearts of everyone around her.
His revere was broken when the soft smile that danced on her dozing lips turned into a frown as the rest of her face became a heartbreaking picture of distress. Little whimpers and whines escaped from her mouth as he twisted and turned amongst the meager blankets they had made.
It had been so long since Scott was in a situation where he felt the need to comfort someone. Arguably, he hadn't since he left the arena. He was out of practice but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
He took one of her hands in his. They were pale with long figures and calluses that showed a life spent with a needle in hand. His shelby had had the same ones if less well formed from the life of a noble woman. He ran his thumb over Shelby's knuckles and began to speak quietly.
"Have you ever tried to paint, Shelby? It's one of my passions. There's nothing that can capture a memory so well as paint. Except maybe poetry. I write poetry too but I don't share it. I don't really share my paintings either. I paint the people I love, especially those I have lost. It's a way of letting out love that has nowhere else to go. I paint them smiling when I'm remembering them smiling. I paint them sad when I remember them being sad. Sometimes I paint us together but I tend to paint scenes without me. I don't really like painting myself. My work is for them and their memory, it's not something I want to turn into a vanity project.'
Scott would never have said this had his audience been awake. He just remembered how easy it had been once upon a time to fall asleep to the gentle timbers of Abolish's voice as he talked through whatever project he was whittling away at. He supposed he could have spoken about anything else but his friends and the memory of them was on the front of his mind.
He looked at where his hand had drifted from hers and to her head, where he was now running his fingers through her hair. He smiled at the lack of distressed noises before his eyes fell on her face and green met the warm amber of the wheat fields of elysium.