Chapter Text
As soon as Avid went to the kitchen and started making drinks, the panic and despair that flooded Scott’s blood started to numb. He was still in an awful spot, but seeing something familiar helped.
And when the mug made its way into his hands, the warmth brought him back out of his thoughts. Barely.
“You’re so mesmerizing like that,” Scott didn’t have the sense to be mortified at his comment, too deep into his panic. He brought the mug to his lips and took a sip. Instantly, every ounce of tension left his body.
The drink felt like a big, soft, comforting hug. The temperature slowly flowing through his veins and filling his heart. The stress and panic disappeared so instantaneously that it was hard to believe he was stressed in the first place. It was as if someone was gently holding his face, whispering affirmations. It made him feel impossibly safe. Every instinct that told him he was unsafe quieted to an impossible to decipher whisper.
“Oh, this is good,” Was all he managed before flowing into a strange autopilot. He knew what was happening– sort of– and he knew that his choices were his, but it was out of his hands and he was incredibly calm throughout everything.
By the time he had fallen asleep, cozy under a blanket that was draped over him at some point, he had completely forgotten about his curse.
He just felt so safe.
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Joel was quick to find out that the place he was stuck in was devoid of human (or human-esque) life.
He found gorgeous ruins of works of architecture, machinery, roads, and overgrown farms. The moss from the area he had arrived from was slowly encroaching on other land. He knew it was taking over because of the stark difference in style and color pallet. Whatever this wonderland was, it was taking over this place like a disease.
A pretty and whimsical disease, but a disease that had shunned or slaughtered whatever intelligent life had previously lived there.
Everything was so quiet.
It felt like there should be noise and the bustle of social life all around him, but there was absolutely nothing and no one to keep him company.
Another thing was that this ex-civilization was huge, almost unnecessarily so. It felt like it should hold hundreds and only a dozen all at the same time.
It really was beautiful, despite the ruin.
But he was alone.
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“Is Joel even coming?” Jimmy said in a vaguely annoyed tone.
“He might just be hanging out with Lizzie,” Grian shrugged, not once looking up from the game. “He likes to forget about us. Have you texted him?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy shot a glare that Grian couldn’t see, but could feel by how intense it was. “Like, an hour ago. And thirty minutes ago. And fifteen minutes ago. And just now!”
“Weird,” Grain shrugged yet again. He wasn’t all that concerned. Joel could handle himself. Sure, not responding to several texts over an hour would normally be concerning, but if he was helping his wife with one of her bounties then he could be out all night. “Guess we just have to wait for him.”
“How will we pass the time?” Jimmy leaned over the back of his couch and stared at the screen, watching how Grian expertly played the game, no doubt. “Joel’s not here so we can’t plan any Bad Boys trips.”
“I guess you could start by telling me about that avian mutant I keep seeing you talk to?” Grian made sure to keep his voice steady, but a slight mischievous smile betrayed him– if Jim was even able to see his face from where he was. “What’s their name?”
“WHAT?!” Jimmy all but shrieked, jumping back from the couch. “HOW–?!”
“Their name, Jim,” Grian bit back a giggle. He wasn’t even playing the game anymore, only moving his character to hop around the screen. All of his attention was focused on Jimmy’s reactions, but he had to feign nonchalance.
“THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" Jimmy sputtered. “How do you even– Grian. How do you know– Grian.”
“Yes, Jim?” Grian paused the game and turned around, attempting to blink innocently.
“Now, which one of you has been stalking me and sharing my social secrets?” Jimmy was crossing his arms and tapping his foot, but Grian knew he wasn’t truly angry with him and the others. “Spit it out. Was it you?”
“No,” Grian let out a small fit of giggles, struggling to recompose himself. “Wasn’t me! Is there something going on between you two?” Grian wiggled his eyebrows at his friend, who gaped in disbelief.
“WHAT–” Jimmy shouted before pausing and standing up straighter. “Don’t change the subject, Grian. Who told you about this?”
“I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Grian fell over the couch into a slew of laughter. “I’m not snitching!”
“One of you freaks has a serious problem with their gossip addiction,” Jimmy shook his head in faux(?) disappointment. “Who knows what all they know.”
“Only they do,” Grian scrambled up from the floor and clambered onto the arm of the couch. “Even I don’t know how much they know. Sometimes, it scares me.”
“Will you stop climbing around on my couch like that?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Grian dropped down, hands first, onto the floor and stood up. “Sorry, your couch is very perchable…” Grian smirked yet again. “You’d want to know that, wouldn’t you?”
“OI!” Jimmy shouted.
Grian couldn’t help but burst out into another bout of cackling at his friend’s desperation.
“I’ll tell you all about them if you just cure my curse,” Jimmy walked around to the couch and picked up the abandoned controller. Grian felt a wave of momentary grief at the loss of his control of the game.
“I would if I could, Jim,” Grian hopped over the couch and sat next to him, opening up his own messages to spam Joel. “If you want to try to convince Spore to cuddle with you for a couple of hours, be my guest, but it didn’t go well for the last person who tried to get her to do something for them.”
“Ouh,” Jimmy winced. “I don’t think I’m gonna win that one.”
"You're welcome to try,” Grian switched to messaging Lizzie, a lot less aggressively, but still with a bit of peskiness. “It’s not like he’ll hurt you. Just be a little self absorbed for a bit before leaving to ‘hunt for intel’.”
“Sounds like Spore,” Jimmy grumbled at the death screen of the videogame as he idly spoke.
Grian looked down at his phone as it pinged. One new message from Lizzie.
> what? I thought Joel was with you guys?
“Uh,” Grian sat up straight and stood up. “Jim?”
“Yeah?”
“Joel’s not with Lizzie.”
“What?”
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Pyro sat alone in The Coven’s base, spinning in a swivel chair that Shelby had insisted Scott buy for them, as he waited for the others to show up.
They were all supposed to meet today. Was he the only one that remembered?
Scott was AWOL, Shelby’s phone was on silent, and Owen was the only one who left some sort of notice he wouldn’t be there. Something about not feeling as good as usual– a very typical and non-issue occurrence.
He kept reloading the news, dreading seeing a headline praising some hero for the capture of either Vampire, Fledgeling, or god forbid both of them.
But that headline never came, and the longer they waited, alone in the quiet headquarters, the more obvious it was that he wouldn’t be joined tonight.
Might as well make the most of it. Pyro pulled the chair up to their computer and began logging witch sightings and his observed patrol reports.
Maybe the others were just trying to leave all the boring work for Pyro. Except Owen— Pyro knew that it wasn’t kind nor was it logical to assume that Owen was faking an episode. But for Scott and Shelby to blow them off? Harsh.
At least he was fine with logging. It wasn’t the worst task in the world. Sorting and analyzing was a great way to unwind, and it only got boring if there was too much. Which there wasn’t, because Scott didn’t turn in his reports.
He probably had some Goldsmith things to attend to.
Pyro didn’t think much of it.