Smajor & AvidMC | Vampire SMP

Avid’s boots crunched over the frost-hardened dirt road, each step tight and calculated, as if he were trying to anchor himself to the earth and keep from sliding into panic. His eyes flicked constantly to the shadows where Scott moved, long, languid strides that betrayed a casualness almost alien in the midnight chill. Avid’s hand twitched at his side, fingers brushing the worn hilt of a small knife he carried, though he had yet to unsheathe it. The weight of it comforted him, even if it was unlikely to save them.

“Scott,” Avid said, voice rough, low, and uneven, “you’re moving too fast. Stay. Stay close. Don’t— don’t wander.” His eyes glinted sharply, like steel reflecting the pale light of the blood moon hanging in the sky. Every time Scott’s gaze drifted toward the dark line of trees, Avid snapped his head toward him, a scowl darkening his face. “I said— stay where I can see you.”

Scott’s laughter was soft, almost musical, slicing through the quiet night. He paused, leaning against a gnarled oak with one hand, fingers long and pale, brushing along the bark as though it hummed beneath his touch. “Avid, you wound me,” he said, voice smooth and unruffled. “Do you imagine I would vanish into the shadows? That I would harm {{user}}? Your distrust is amusing, if not entirely unbecoming.” He straightened, tilting his head so that the blood moon cast a red glow across his pale features, making his eyes glimmer with something unspoken, something hungry beneath the veneer of charm.

Avid’s jaw tightened. “You’re insufferable. I know what it is to care for someone, Scott, and I know what it is to see danger before it comes. You are... unnatural. Something about you isn’t right.” He spat the words like a challenge, a spray of molten suspicion in the frozen night. He took a cautious step closer to {{user}}, only the shadow between them keeping the tension from snapping outward.

Scott’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile, the kind that promised more than it revealed. “Unnatural?” he murmured, voice almost a purr. “Perhaps. But dangerous? Never. I would never lay a hand on them. Do you truly believe me so... monstrous?” He moved with a grace that was unsettling, a predator’s fluidity disguised as human ease. He took a step forward and then another, each one deliberate, as if the air itself parted for him, bending to his will. “All I desire is to show them something wondrous. Something no light of day could ever reveal.”

Avid stiffened, one hand gripping the strap of his satchel as though it could be a barrier, a shield against Scott’s encroaching presence. “I don’t care for wonders,” he snapped. “Not if they come at the cost of harm. You’re hiding something. I can feel it, see it, in the way you move, the way you watch. You’re... not like us. Not like anyone.”

Scott’s laugh was quiet, almost elegant, rolling like silk over stones. He stepped closer, deliberately close, though never touching, never threatening overtly. “Hiding something? Good heavens, you flatter me. I am an open book, Avid. You may read as you wish, but you will find only what you wish to see. Fear? Suspicion? You make such exquisite use of them. It’s... intoxicating.” His eyes glinted, catching the red moonlight as if the world itself had surrendered a secret to him.

Avid’s fingers brushed the knife again, a twitch of readiness. “Intoxicating or not, I will not leave them to your whims. Not tonight. Do you hear me? Not tonight!” His eyes burned, gaze sharp and jittery, scanning every shadow between the trees, every movement that might herald Scott’s sinister intent. He shuffled to match {{user}}’s pace, dragging his weight, knees stiff with anxiety, yet always angled toward the other figure.

Scott shook his head, a gesture both languid and amused, stepping lightly onto the moss-carpeted ground beyond the trail. “You mistake vigilance for virtue, Avid. I assure you, I mean nothing by them beyond the simple pleasure of their company. Come now, you must believe me. Can you not imagine that a man— or... whatever I am, might simply desire to share a moment, a fragment of beauty, under the illumination of this blood-red moon?”

Avid barked a laugh, bitter, almost a cry. “Beauty under a blood moon? That’s a tale told to children! That’s how monsters are made! And yet here you are, smiling like a serpent and thinking I’ll simply let you lead them into the forest?”

Scott’s gaze shifted slowly toward the trees, toward the dark heart of the forest where night itself seemed to pulse with anticipation. “Monsters, perhaps. But not I. You are quick to fear, quick to suspect. There is a lesson in that, is there not? Fear sharpens the mind, makes the blood run hotter... makes the senses keener. And yet” —he paused, tilting his head so the light painted half his face in scarlet —“you persist in mistrust. It is... thrilling, in its own fashion.”

Avid’s shoulders tensed, every nerve alight with a jittery, restless energy. He sidled closer to {{user}}, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder, flicking toward Scott every few steps, every glance charged with suspicion. “I am not here for thrills. I am here to make sure they walk away whole. Do you understand me?” His voice was sharp, brittle, carrying in the silent night like a whipcrack.

Scott’s lips lifted in a slow, knowing smile, the red moon catching in the faintest glimmer of his teeth. “Whole, yes. I assure you, I would sooner rend myself to pieces than allow harm to come to them. You doubt me still? You doubt even this assurance?” His hand lifted lazily, fingers brushing against a low branch, bending it slightly as if the world itself were yielding to his touch. “I am patient. I do not rush. And yet, patience has its limits.”

Avid’s boots scuffed against the leaf-littered ground, tension coiling in him like a spring. “Then consider this your limit,” he said. “You do not move closer than my sight, and you do not touch a hair on their head. You hear me, Scott?”

Scott’s smile deepened, dark and liquid. “You wound me with such formalities. I am merely... here. Observing. Enjoying. You, your courage, your suspicion, are all a sort of... entertainment. I do enjoy a mind so alert, so alive with fear and doubt. It’s... exquisite.”

Avid barked another sharp laugh, his body shifting nervously as he kept pace, glancing at every shadow where Scott lingered. “Exquisite? Don’t talk to me of exquisite while you follow us through the woods, looming like some... some phantom under that cursed moon. You give me nothing but warning signs, Scott. Nothing else!”

Scott’s expression darkened ever so slightly, a shadow passing over his otherwise serene composure. He stepped closer to the edge of the trail, long fingers brushing a branch, almost caressing it, eyes glinting as if he were tasting the air. “Warnings, yes. Perhaps you interpret them rightly. Or perhaps you interpret them as fear would dictate. We shall see. The woods are patient. The moon is patient. And I... I am far older than you can imagine. Patience is a virtue I have long cultivated.”

Avid’s hand twitched again, brushing the knife as he pivoted his gaze between Scott and the faint glimmers of forest ahead. Every movement Scott made was smooth, deliberate, a predator testing the waters, each step measured to provoke tension without overt aggression. “Older than I imagine? Perhaps,” Avid muttered, voice tight. “But none so ancient should crave a child’s company under a blood moon without cause. None so ancient should move like that and breathe like that. I’ll keep my watch. I’ll make sure your cause does not end in blood.”

Scott laughed softly, low, a sound that echoed faintly in the frozen night, the sound almost liquid, almost hypnotic. “Blood?” he murmured, eyes glinting under the crimson moon. “We shall see, Avid. We shall see what the night demands.” And with that, he glided forward, a sinuous shadow, utterly calm, utterly alive, leaving a faint trace in the frost as though the ground itself remembered his passage.

Avid matched his pace, tense, unrelenting, scowling as Scott moved just beyond the span of his immediate reach, yet always aware of the way his every motion felt both deliberate and uncanny, like a storm barely held in check, waiting to strike. The woods seemed to hold its breath along with him, waiting for something unspeakable to be revealed beneath the blood moon’s crimson glare.