Chapter Text
Scott trails behind Legundo, mouth still aching with the pain of brutality. Animals, the lot of them, he seethes. They call him the monster, but truly, he had said it before as a manipulation tactic, but maybe they were truly the monsters all along.
Scott remembers the rivers of blood that practically carved their way through the ground when he ruled and chuckled to himself. No, they were all monsters but Scott chose this.
The doctor’s clinic was much more advanced than he had last seen, and far closer to the beacon. Legundo catches his gaze lingering warily on the beacon and gave him an explanation.
“We moved it. The beacons make us healthier, so I assumed it would have some sort of medicinal effect.”
Scott gives him a skeptical look, still unsure about trying to talk when the space he usually has to adjust for his fangs is empty. His teeth and gums hurt and his head is still fuzzy.
“I see we don’t have any clever comebacks.” Legundo says, and he looks a little tired, “I really didn’t mean to do that, but if it makes you be quiet I’m glad. Once we have you human again, I can check to make sure that the teeth have grown back. I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Scott holds up his claws, blood crusting on them, red and black and Legundo sighs.
“But you won’t hurt people with those anymore, will you?”
Scott gives him a look that is supposed to say ‘I wouldn’t have hurt anybody if you hadn’t kidnapped me, but here we are’ he’s unsure if the Doctor actually reads that in his face. Scott is caught with a small wave of missing Pyro, the fledgling is quite good at knowing exactly what Scott wants to hear. It’s wonderful!.
This on the other hand… the sun is hot and he’s hungry and he doesn’t have his fangs. Sure they’ll grow back when he feeds enough, but it’s hard to do that when he doesn’t have fangs and that was painful! He’s allowed to be angry that someone ripped his teeth out of his mouth, and without anesthetic. When he didn’t even do anything but exist in the woods.
Scott could do so much worse, of course, and he was indeed planning to but the village people didn’t know that. Scott shakes his head quickly as they are led inside the building, he’s beginning to sound like a whining child and it’s annoying him. Just because things do not go his way does not mean he can whine about it like a child deprived of candy. He needs to plan.
There’s not much he can do now though, he has no powers and Legundo is… regrettable as it is to admit, the better fighter than him. He supposes that might have something to do with his reliance on his powers. If he survives this, he vows, he will find a way to wipe all holy water from this earth.
A reasonable reaction, in his opinion.
Legundo gives him a piece of paper.
“Your sire is dead, correct?” He asks, holding a book of his own, quill out to write down the answers to these ‘experiments’ Scott supposes.
“Yes,” Scott lisps, his voice still coming out smooth, even if it sounds strange to his own ears. Scott has never been one to let his appearances falter, as an elder vampire and a lord, that sounds like a good way to get tossed to the murder of crows in the back woods. “At least I believe so, it’s been quite a few years since I last saw them.”
Scott and the vampire that turned him had had quite a good bargain. Scott would be turned, and receive the power that came with that, and in return the vampire would receive a hefty sum and amnesty on Scott’s land. Scott did not go back on his word, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t twist those words. The older vampire would have found many immortal prices on his head, set there by Scott’s wealthy friends.
After all, it was shameful to admit that Scott had not been the Original, the strongest. His name should be remembered as the progenitor of the curse, the gift, not as simply another in a line. However, right now all of that would not help Scott at all, in fact it would likely damage his relationship with the town (not that he cared) and make it harder for him to kill them all.
He was going to do that now, they had angered him past the point of return. He was going to rip them limb from limb and leave the bones lying in the dirt. Those who crossed a Goldsmith did not survive, and those who hurt one… their torment was unimaginable.
Scott imagines that was part of what happened to the town that put him to sleep 600 years. His friends would have been all too eager to get their revenge and then… well they were bloodthirsty nobles, what reason would they have to stick around when there was kingdom conquering to complete?
Legundo hums, and writes something down.
“So you are uncertain,” Legundo says.
“Almost positive, but sure, you can call me uncertain if you like.” Scott grins, it feels nice to treat others as if they’re stupider than him. Besides! He’s just mimicking the doctor’s tone back at him, if the Doctor points out his tone, he can rebuff him with that.
“I’m putting you down as uncertain.” The Doctor says firmly, “It is only good science.”
Scott laughs, and it makes a whistling noise through the gaps in his teeth.
“Oh, so you care about lab safety now, Doctor?”
“Why would I not?”
“You certainly didn’t seem to care when you pinned me to the floor of your ‘Vampire Awareness Center’ and ripped my teeth out,” Scott says, baring his teeth, showing off the prominent holes.
“...Moving on.” Legundo says, refusing to acknowledge Scott. Sad. It’s hard to hurt someone when they refuse to acknowledge their wrongdoings. Scott had assumed Legundo knew that, with the horrors he had done, the horrors that Scott had barely seen a flash of when he attacked the man. He’d always appreciated being able to see the memories of those who he drank the blood from, it made it quite easy to manipulate them.
Holy water is once again splashed on him, leaving him hissing and soaking wet. The scabbed over holes in his mouth start bleeding once again, water seeping its way inside his mouth and dancing with the blood on his mouth to create a spicy taste.
“I can’t even use my powers in here!” Scott cries out, “what was that for!”
“Read the words written down on the page.”
Scott looks down at the piece of paper. The words are etched upon the page in a glowing light, though on side of the page is frayed, obviously torn from some book.
“I willingly cast away this dark bond?” Scott asks, “You really think that will work to cure me?” He gives a singular laugh.
“Scott.” Legundo says warningly, and with a glare, “read the actual words on the page.”
“That is what’s on the page,” Scott whines.
“I don’t care what the translation is.” Legundo says words that could have been patient with another impatiently, “you need to read the actual words.”
Scott sighs, “You humans and your stupid language rules, I swear it wasn’t like this when I was awake.”
Legundo sighs, looking very put-upon.
“Nobility,” he mutters bitterly, and Scott flashes him what would have been a toothy grin if Legundo hadn’t ripped his teeth out. He was still angry about that, by the way. Legundo took the paper away from Scott. “Repeat after me.”
Scott didn’t know what Legundo thought splashing him with water and then having him say that he cast away a bond in a language that used to be commonly spoken would do, but if it would give him an opportunity to escape, or do something he would.
As Scott speaks, repeating after Legundo syllable-by-syllable he feels the magic pull at him with a feeling of dread. This… isn’t good.
He can’t stop speaking now, though. This isn’t some sunk cost fallacy either, he genuinely cannot force his lips together. The rest of the short phrase spills unwillingly out of his lips. Hah, unwillingly saying he willingly casts away his bond. Now there’s some irony.
His essence is contained back within his body and he doubles over, clutching his head, fragments of memories coming and going like the wind.
Scott blinks, he was meant to be turned by now, that vampire that he had hired is nowhere to be found though and he’s in what appears to be some sort… his brain is telling him doctor’s office? It looks nothing like the domicile of a dentist or an herb woman. This is something else… his head hurts when he tries to focus on it.
“Scott,” The man says, before he repeats some sort of garbled syllables. Scott understands none of this strange alien language, and does not understand why this man would try to talk to him anyway, he isn’t any type of nobility.
“Who are you?” Scott demands, “What are you doing talking to a noble of the Goldsmith lineage? I demand you take me to speak to my parents right this instant!”
The man shoots him a quizzical look and writes something down on a square filled with paper cut in small squares. The man says something else in the alien language of his. Scott, and he is ashamed to admit it because nobles certainly aren’t supposed to, starts crying.
He’s just so tired and confused and some part of him is railing in anger and he doesn’t know why. Why doesn’t he know? Why can’t he remember? His head hurts, everything hurts. His teeth still hurt.