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To be loved is to be changed.
But what if it was never allowed to evolve into love? What if it was an eternity of unanswered questions surrounding recently shifted opinions that you will never have the chance to reciprocate? What if it cut off so abruptly, so out of your control, that you would never find out how true affection feels?
The only sound that rings through the stone room anger incarnate sat in was of a blade cutting through wood, rhythmic and regular as the sire prepares a stake he is debating using on his eldest fledgling. It had been centuries since he had to dispatch one of his own, but this one signed a death warrant the moment he killed the one who had reminded the eldest vampire why innocent life was ever so important, especially to the forever dead.
He nearly misses his next strike as his hands tense up thinking of Pyroscythe and how he proudly admitted how he murdered Avid, Owen standing behind with an insufferable happy smirk that Scott wanted to rip from his dead flesh with his freshly manicured claws.
Avid.
Scott pauses as he takes a heavy swallow, uncomfortable with the heavy sadness that keeps threatening to drown him each time he thought of the one he was confused over but now would never figure out. His lips tingle with the ghost of a kiss from the boy who his opinions had completely changed about, yet again tragically wondering what could have been.
He had been left drowning in the massive storm of his emotions and felt like his lifeline had been ripped suddenly and terribly away. How was he supposed to process the death of the one who made him reconsider everything? He hesitated to admit it but perhaps if they had spent eternity together Scott might have finally learned what true devotion could have been, but now they had been absolutely separated across the lines of true death and forever persisting, and it was all the fault of the first creature he changed since they had all gathered here.
Testing the point of the sharp wooden stake against his cool palm, he winces as the splinters bite through his flesh before deciding it is complete, slipping it into a sheath he now wore clipped to his waist. It had been a very long time since he had to arm himself against others of his kind, but the side Pyro revealed he had today shook Scott to his core and he felt the smallest amount safer wielding something that could even prove to be his own demise if he wasn’t careful.
It was all too quiet now, besides the crackling of the fire silence was his only companion. Despite knowing Avid is dead, he felt the very moment his soul left this plane deep within the bonds all sires held with their own, he still found himself straining to hear that unique giggle that always told him when the sweet brunette was nearby.
Shifting around on the plush seat where he had sat down less than an hour ago before giving up and standing to pace the length of the room, Scott tries to escape the grasp of grief that kept threatening to clip the last few heartstrings that kept him sane and reasonable. Tugging at his dark silk-lined cloak his eyes land back on the black rose where it lay on a nearby table adorned in crimson cloth, taking a deep breath he picks up the fragrant flower the same shade as the deepest night.
Sweeping from the room he makes his way to the castle entrance, only passing Shelby along the way which he traded the smallest of nods with. Telling himself yet again he needs to speak with her later about protecting themselves and only themselves, he clutches the rose bloom close to his beautifully-tailored waistcoat as he walks out beneath the overcast sky.
Taking the smallest of moments to glance across the broken bridge, he winces away from the echoes of laughter shared between Pyro and the newly-sired Sausage where they stood showing off on the dining table Scott had passed by without a word earlier. Glancing around one more time, he reminds himself to be careful of any tails as he takes off into the heavy woods that surrounded his castle grounds. He isn't entirely sure where he is headed, but all he knew is he must put some distance between himself and the ones which his rage screamed to stake without hesitation. Reminding himself of the words he spoke earlier to the rest in how they needed the numbers they had to survive, his fingers still tremble where they are shoved deep within one of his pockets, the others still clutching the rose he couldn't bring himself to put down yet.
Ascending a hill, he barely realizes the now falling rain until he is nearly at the top, wondering if the sky was mourning the sweetest soul who had ever been in his presence, not even noticing the crimson tears that dripped from his blood-red eyes onto the navy lapels below mixing with the water from above.
To be loved is to be changed.
For some reason, he could not escape that quote from shoving itself to the forefront of his grieving mind. Though he couldn't quite label it as love, he wondering if he might have if their affections had been allowed to bloom. A wild sentiment, Scott had to admit, thinking positively about the soul who once drove him up the wall when they first met but part of him kept insisting what if.
He wondered if the initial annoyance was based on the fact Avid always saw right through him, and how his intense emotions lead to impulsive decisions but weren't all youths like that? Scott could barely remember his own, but judging by his recently turned fledglings it was a behavioural trait that seemed to span all species.
He was so young and still had so much life left to live. And it had been cut horrifically short by those he had only wanted to help.
Lost in his own grieving, the elder vampire only notices the small stone cairn he constructed after its completed, kneeling down as he cradles the night-black rose. Reaching up with one hand, he is shocked as he wipes away tears, struggling to remember the last time he ever cried over another person or creature. Centuries, at least.
Not out of earth shattering revelations it seems, his heart reveals how he was so easily drawn to Avid's exuberance, never bored in his excitable presence his soul had slowly started to hope that he could rediscover his own sense of wonder that had been missing for far too many moons. He found a reason to keep living in those shimmering dark eyes that always spoke of mischief and plotting, unlike his first fledgling Avid saw Scott, truly saw him.
The eldest didn't crave utter worship, he had experienced more than his fair share of that. Of course, it was nice, but Avid was a breath of fresh air compared to that. He drove Scott up the wall but he also consumed so many of Scott's thoughts, once of sheer malice it slowly shifted to curious acceptance especially after Shelby turned Avid and he discovered how the better half lived.
His castle, though full of what he once thought was a coven of people who at least respected each other, felt ever so much more hostile after their sweetest fledging perished at the hands of the one Scott didn't think held such bloodthirsty urges. Though his anger was directed at Pyro, Owen shared the blame as well. In fact, if Scott had to hazard a guess, he was ever so happy to encourage the slowly slipping Pyro over the edge and allow him to take most of the blame.
It takes a monumental effort to reach forth and slowly lay the night bloom down beneath the stone cairn slowly becoming slick with the rainwater sheeting from above, nature Herself mourning the youngling Scott was laying to rest tonight.
“What could have been, Avid?” Scott's voice lost all sense of composure in that whisper to the silent earth before him, trembling as the precipitation splashing around them drowned it all out.
As if playing the cruelest trick, his heart began to dream; starting somewhere far away on a forest path he hadn't traversed in many years. Avid skipped along at his side, holding a compass and a map or he asked about going to see some natural wonder nearby, life clinging to the one who represented it the best even as moonlight highlighted his handsome features. His imagination rushed him through a thousand conversations that never came to be, laughter aplenty between the fond sighs at Avid's unending zest for life while one of his dearest fledglings drove him affectionately insane.
It was a glimpse of what would haunt him for the rest of eternity, the hundreds of endless heartbreaks of what never would be, an eternity of being half what could have been and half fuelled by the rage of never knowing.
“They will pay with their lives, dear Avid.” A deadly promise muttered to the deceased, the air of Oakhurst shuddered with the ancient vow uttered.
“I’ll make sure to kill them for you.
“All of them.”