Chapter Text
Lately, the castle had been growing and coming along, progress being made every second and on display for the few appreciative eyes to see. The newly constructed roof reached high into the clouds, shielding the vampires from the burning sun. The walls were finished, small and large holes punched into the stone structure, waiting to be replaced with tainted windows.
It was growing into a home for many of the inhabitants—welcoming and comforting. With all these little changes, the progress made, it was no surprise that if you entered through the door, you’d be greeted by a new room, new structures, or new colours. These changes had shifted to become the norm for the hardworking vampires.
Yet there was one change—an unusual one—that piqued everyone’s interest. A lovely scent stretched around the castle, soft and aromatic, smelling of flowers you would find out in the wild.
The first to take notice of this was Shubble, wandering the halls, arms packed with materials ready to be brought down to her room in the crypt, when her nose picked up the scent. It was confusing, to say the least. With no clue where it came from or why it was inside the castle, all she could do was be glad for the refreshing aroma.
However, the moment she exited through the back door, heading toward the spiral stairs down to the crypt, she realised how used she had grown to the terrible stench of iron and ash. It almost made her want to run back out and return to the grand hall.
Later that same day, following in Shelby’s footsteps, the other vampires were greeted upon returning home by the softly scented rooms and lit candles. With no recollection of how the scent had appeared nor where it had came from, all they could do was simply accept it, enjoying the relief from all the unpleasant smells they had grown accustomed to.
Only the next day, right before the sun sank and graced the sky with its last rays, the vampires held their meeting—sharing ideas and plans for the future nights and days they would have to fight to survive against those nasty humans. Only then did one speak up and question it.
“Ah, before I forget! Does anyone know where the smell comes from?”
Shelby asked, looking at the other four vampires gathered with her. A nervous laugh escaped her lips as silence followed for the next few seconds. Owen simply shrugged, seemingly as clueless as she was.
“What, do you not enjoy it? I find it quite lovely myself,” Scott’s voice broke the silence. Sitting at the head of the table, he instantly gathered everyone’s attention. Hastily, Shelby shook her head. “No—no, not at all, I like it! But I’m just wondering where it came from!”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pyro giving an acknowledging nod. “Aye, same goes for me. It offers a pleasant change.”
A small smirk grew on the elder vampire’s face as he listened to their approvals. Crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning back into his chair, he said, “I’m glad. Recently, I found myself searching for a distraction from building that damned roof, so I decided to make scented water. I’m glad you’ve been enjoying it.”
It took a few seconds for the others to process what Scott had just said. Finally, and for the first time in this interaction, Apo spoke up. “Scented water...? You mean perfume? How did you get your hands on that in a place like this?”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “Perfume? Is that what they call it these days?” he questioned, not really expecting an answer before continuing. “And—well, as I said, I made it myself. It’s just rose water with some old dried-out wooden sticks.”
His explanation left the others quite shocked. Perfume was known to be expensive and hard to get, and for it to be smelling great throughout the whole estate—apparently because of just some water and wooden sticks—that was unbelievable.
Seeing the shock on their faces, Scott deadpanned with a sigh. “Have none of you ever in your life made rosewater?” he asked.
In response, he only saw headshakes—which, yeah, he could understand coming from Owen and Pyro. They weren’t the type he’d expect to see making soft-smelling fragrances in their free time. But to see the art he’d been taught completely lost to time was quite shocking indeed.
“Now, this will do no good. Would you like to know how to make it?”
Shelby let out a quiet gasp, her excitement displayed openly on her face without any attempt to conceal it. Apo showed similar interest, her eyes lighting up for just a split second before she caught herself and returned to her usual demeanour.
“Really?! You would teach us?” Shelby practically squealed, a grand smile forming on her face.
“Of course! Next time the sun rises, we can meet back here again, and I’ll show it to those who are interested,” he suggested, before they moved on to another topic while they still had time before daylight.
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Scott vividly remembered the many times, as a young boy, when he would go running through their manor’s gardens, a basket in his hand. At the request of his mother, he began to pick a few of the different rose flowers that bloomed ever so beautifully. He remembered the feeling when his fingers grazed the soft surface of the petals, separating them from each other and filling up his basket with a pinkish hue.
Later in the evening, their halls were filled with a scent similar to the one the gardens outside carried, as the water boiled, ready to be bottled up and preserved until needed. The elder vampire didn’t necessarily miss those times; he had grown fond of the way he lived now—his family nothing but a small glimmer of the past, people who had brought him into the world and raised him until he was able to fend for himself.
Sometimes, he could feel himself slip into the role of the parent—bringing new vampires into the world and leading their way, setting out a path and holding their winds back to let them find their own flow, only to release them into the wild. It had only been a short comparison, one he didn’t want to make so quickly. He was no parent, so he called himself a leader. The elder vampire. A sire.
Yet with this particular pack of wildcards, he found himself enjoying their company. And perhaps, he might just find affection sinking into his mind for those around him, as he watched Shelby excitedly drag Apo off into the forest, ready to gather the flower petals Scott had asked for.
And perhaps, this time, he didn’t mind it.
---
The dark night passed in a flash—many humans tormented, their fears forming into nightmares they faced while wide awake. Beacons were turned, and food was scavenged. When the sun finally rose again, painting the sky in reddish hues, Scott returned to the castle, opening the large front doors with an exhausted sigh—only to be greeted by all four vampires sitting at their large wooden table.
On top of the table stood two small baskets, reddish petals spilling over the edges, barely contained and ready to fall at the slightest movement. A fond smile crept its way onto his face as he walked over to his spot—the chair he claimed as his at the head of the table.
Silence filled the room, almost suffocating, as all eyes seemed to follow his every action, waiting for any sort of acknowledgment—some kind of starting point for what was going to happen.
“Well then. Since you all seem so eager to learn, making this is really simple,” he started, his voice carrying through the hall. “All you need is some water, these petals—thank you, Shelby and Apo, for collecting them, by the way—and a campfire,” Scott explained.
His hand moved to grab a handful of petals, throwing them into one of the buckets of water he usually carried with him, placing it down on the table. While the ever-so-positive Shelby seemed fascinated by its simplicity, Owen, on the other hand, looked rather unimpressed. "When its done, you just put it into one of the glass bottles and push a dried wooden stick in the opening.'
“That’s it?” Owen asked, earning a short scoff from Scott in reply.
“No, silly. We boil it above a fire for, like, half an hour—and then it’s done.”
“This is way easier than I imagined… Here, let me help you, Sire. Should I bring the bucket to hang over the campfire outside?” Pyro offered, ever so eager to help.
A satisfied hum left Scott’s lips as he nodded. “That would be amazing, yeah.”
Suddenly, Shelby stood up and placed her bucket on the table, allowing some water to swish over the edge and soak into the wood. “Wait! I’m coming with you,” she stated, digging her hand into the basket of petals and filling her bucket further. Apo rose to her feet beside Shelby, supporting her by carrying the bucket—which honestly wasn’t needed for a level three vampire. It was most likely that she just didn’t want to be alone with Owen and Scott.
Watching as the three of them hurried out the door, Scott couldn’t help but stifle a small laugh. These new fledglings had their flaws, but they were intriguing—perhaps something he could get used to. Or perhaps something he had already gotten used to, unknowingly, over the week…
“I’m surprised you showed up for this,” he stated bluntly toward Owen, whose gaze was fixed on the open door, watching as the three of them tried to hook the buckets over a branch above the campfire. And were failing misserably at doing so.
If you were any ordinary person, he might have seemed slightly ominous—perhaps even frightening. Yet if you had stuck around long enough to adapt to the subtle shifts in the vampire’s behavior, like Scott had, you would begin to notice the differences.
He saw how Owen relaxed—shoulders slumped not even on guard, and even the slightest twitch of his lips upward—while watching the others make fools of themselves.
“Oh, I just wanted to see what this is all about.”
Maybe Scott wasn’t the only one warming up to the whole family idea.