Chapter Text
Pyro tries to keep their head down and focus on building the castle. A week is not a very long time, and if they maintain their momentum they can get it done even quicker. Most of the work remaining is laying bricks, a mind numbing process, but what use do they even have for an un-numbed mind at this point? If anything it serves them well when Scott inevitably slithers up behind them or when they turn to find him looming, watching, comfortable, like he's been there for hours. Pyro never knows how long he watches for.
They fell quickly out of the habit of talking to themself when Avid first woke up, something they find themself glad for now. It's not as if they've been alone all that much to even find time to worm his way deep into his thoughts enough to warrant muddling through them audibly, most of the time Avid is working within earshot or taking a break nearby. More often a break than working, really. He can't blame Avid for lacking their same drive to get the castle done though, he doesn't have the same pressure they do, it isn't his ticket to leave the damned building.
The thought makes them wonder how he does it, it's been over a month since Avid was turned and not once has he left this island. Not once has even had the luxury of being left alone with his thoughts. Pyro can't help but marvel at the fact he's still sane.
Sane is perhaps to generous a word to be used to describe Avid however, Pyro tries not to spend too much time around him, so they'd struggle to say more on the matter, but Owen has a point about his sudden pivot, even if Pyro doesn't quite agree with the rest of Owen's opinions on the subject.
In a way he gets it, they're both similar in the way they have to put their heads down and keep going with the cards they've been dealt. With how disliked Avid was to start it's likely due only to his switch-up that Scott left him alive.
Generally, they try not to think too much about Avid, it's selfish and it's cruel of them but they just can't bring themself to dwell too much on what they've done to him. They try to pretend they don't remember how he was before, he never had the chance to get close to him, they tell themself. It's not entirely a lie. They never got the chance to become friends, and Avid was somewhat hostile due to them hanging around Scott from the day he started befriending them. They try not to think about those early days too much, either.
Oh, the bubbling infatuation they had for the man back then, they hadn't identified it at the time, only with hindsight have they realised what they are. Were. It's gone now, whatever it was — fondness or just plain desperation or the pull they can't bring themself to name even in their own mind — it died when they did.
Placing bricks isn't hard work, nor is it tiring due to the fact that they cannot feel tired anymore, if it weren't for the interruptions they could have worked non-stop up until it was complete. Interruptions come frequently though, a lot of the time it is the rising sun sizzling their flesh until they can no longer bear it, other times it is Scott.
Originally they had assumed, hoped, that their Sire's outward displeasure with their new appearance would deter him from seeking them out, perhaps shift his focus onto something new and shiny and prettier, but perhaps it was cruel to wish Scott's full attention upon Avid. Not that Pyro thinks anything, let alone anyone, has ever held more than a fraction of Scott's attention at any one time. They were crestfallen pleased to learn that Scott wasn't done with them yet, that they still had use to him like this.
He had watched them building enough times for Pyro to pass it off as normal, their mind turning stiff at the constant, repetitive actions they completed. They couldn't quite tell if they were grateful for the short breaks of picking up more bricks from the storage, or irritated by the disruption to the rhythm they'd fallen into.
They didn't hear Scott move, didn't even sense his presence as he approached, only noticing him when those all-too familiar hands wrapped around their waist and pulled them away from the crates of materials. They couldn't bring themself to be surprised, couldn't bring themself to really feel anything in response. Other than his hands, feeling up their chest, holding them flush against him, his chin resting on their shoulder. They were so close it felt like he would seep into them like water into soft wood, slowly rotting it away until it snaps.
It felt like he was trying to envelop them.
It would have been too much if their mind wasn't so dulled by their monotonous work, later it would come back to haunt them, and they would then disappear into the mines while Avid halfheartedly worked with Scott as his audience and return with far too little deepslate for the amount of time they spent down there.
Later wasn't relevant in the moment though, the only thing that was important was Scott's presence all over them. The cold wetness of his mouth against their neck stood out to them among the melting pot of sensation against their flesh — the hands had ventured beneath their shirt by now — it was just wetness to start, kisses, they'd realised slightly too late — then the ache of pain. Not fangs, not yet, but teeth pulled the skin away from muscle and kneaded until it turned purple in colour.
It must have faded, at some point, they don't know when the tender flesh had stopped its faint ache every time they shifted their head, but at some point it must have, because Scott is not typically so aggressive with this.
Fangs pierced them soon enough, deep enough Pyro thought he would drink from them until they withdrew without the weakness of bleeding following. The thought only reminded them how hungry they were, they'd kept themself level-headed on bottled blood and raw meat but they ached for something fresh, more than that, they ached for the hunt. Level wasn't quite enough for them, barely getting by isn't what they're used to, but there's not enough blood kept in the castle for much more than that. His fangs dug in many more times, mixed in between blunt bites.
At some point they must have relaxed into him, something that ended up with him supporting at least a portion of their weight, because when he silently slipped away they stumbled. He left the castle without another word — actually, he hadn't said a word to them at all, they realised. Just took his fill in a way he wouldn't even have to see their face.
Gently, they prodded at the tender skin, feeling up to where the bruises ended just below their ear and down to where they disappeared under their collar. At some point Pyro had stopped buttoning their shirt the whole way up, it never lasted long anyway and left a constant pressure or frequent brush against the battered skin. They could think about it less if they left the topmost buttons undone.
As was often after Scott was done with them, there was a hollowness in their chest, something akin to whiplash after being so wholly enveloped and consumed to being utterly alone in a moment. They felt dirty, the lingering touch and blooming pain on their neck doing nothing but reinforce that. That feeling would follow them up until Shelby departed to town and Owen had come and gone and Scott returned and they had used enough stone that collecting more actually had purpose and they could let themself fall to pieces in the isolated mines.
Scott wasn't the worst of it, after being caught off guard the first time it was nothing new. Nothing they haven't gotten used to already. Nothing they weren't expecting. Not being able to tear something apart with teeth and claws after or instead was different, though, and it was difficult. The coven often had quiet moments, time spent with varying amounts of vampires existing quietly in the same room. It was expected, when none of them could sleep, they each found their own ways to fill the time. Pyro would usually leave to hunt during many of these moments, but now they couldn't, left to wait patiently as time stretched on and on. Long past the point they'd start itching to leave. Then Scott would eventually grow bored of whatever new activity he acquired from God-knows where and give Pyro good reason to wish he was allowed to go hunting.
Maybe Scott was worse than usual, his... advances were more frequent than Pyro usually had to endure — not endure, they like the attention, they like him, they can't afford to forget that now — but every touch was so much more fleeting as well.
However much Scott did, the hunger was by far the worst of it. They remained hungrier than they think they had ever been for days and it affected them worse and worse as they counted the nights and laid their bricks. They tried to ask Owen once, casually, if he had any spare blood, but he merely told them to go hunting, potentially implying he would join them, but they're still never really sure with Owen. Regardless, they had to deny him, something they felt somewhat bad about as they did enjoy hunting with Owen. Even thought they're sure he doesn't consider them anything close to a friend, he's the closest thing they've got to one.
With the exception of his captivity (something he does his best to not make obvious to the rest of them) the coven continues as usual, something he hadn't expected after the addition of Cleo, but she returned to town, and when she returns to visit Pyro is sent to the crypt with Avid so her and Scott can speak alone.
The castle is completed just shy of a full week after Pyro is set the task, and their hunger aches to be set free. They steel themself, harshly reminding themself that they might still have to wait a little longer. Scott said a week, he might not let them leave earlier than that.
They take a pointless breath, and go looking for him.