''You can't help me, doc,,

"𝕴 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙.,, ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ 𝕍𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕆𝕨𝕖𝕟 𝕣𝕡 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘 :𝟛

[satinaholefor200years]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

"𝕴 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖌𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖚𝖎𝖘."

My name's Owen, I heard of this place from Shebly. I'm also quite sure the doc has this app...

Regardless, Shelby says I should introduce myself, so

⚰︎ He/Him

⚰︎ Vampire

⚰︎ Bisexual

------

⚰︎ Rp rules: No NSFW or anything. Ocs are allowed, all other rp blogs encouraged to interact!!

⚰︎ Out of character stuff will be under a cut and/or tagged as such

⚰︎ Ships are cool! With Owen bloodletting and lovebitten are my favorites but I'm cool with other ones

"𝕮𝖔𝖑𝖉

𝖀𝖓𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌

𝕾𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊"

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

Mod stuff!!

⛧ Hiya, the name's Vin :3

⛧ He/They

⛧ I am a minor!!

⛧ For more info you can go to my main: @yourl0calqueer

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They purr, leaning into his hand around their neck while thoroughly enjoying the fleeting sensation of his fingers in their hair. Though, out of everything in that moment, it was the familiar nickname that made them pause, heart softening and breaking at its recall }

‘’ You remember . . . of course you remember. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He can't help but giggle a little at their tone, and even more he can't help but start purring too - it's light, yes, but undoubtedly it's there. He presses another kiss to the top of their head, a part of him wanting to kiss their face but not wanting to move them. When he talks his voice is almost pure teasing.

"Did you think I could forget?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They laugh, pulling away from his shoulder and easing their grip on him. They’ve missed this. They’ve missed him. His teasing, his shame, his love, his anger. They missed everything about him }

‘’ I guess so, though I can’t fathom why. ‘’

{ It’s another brief, fleeting second, but they lean up to steal a kiss from him, even though the action seems entirely pointless }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen smiles slightly as they kiss him, bringing the hand not already tangled in their hair to cup their cheek. He misses the feel of their skin, but this was still better than not being with them at all. He adores them, he truly does.

"How silly of you to think I could forget a single thing about you."

He presses a kiss to their cheek, a gesture fleeting and even more pointless than theirs, yet he knows they'll love it all the same.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They hum, smiling at the return of their gesture. Pointless as it all is, it means something, even if so many would call it nothing }

‘’ I know, I know. I really am your fool. ‘’

{ Again, they kiss him, desperately wishing for his touch like how it once was }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen leans into it as much as he can, desperately wishing to feel them again. This was his own fault, and he knew that, but he still greatly regretted it now.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

His thumb rubbed back and forth on their cheek, pointless now but the thought and geesturre still there.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, choking on a sob before burring their face against him once more. After a moment, they pull a distance away from him and grab his arm, slowly trailing kisses up it, looking back at him every so often for some sort of response }

‘’ You flatter me. Even when you deserve it more . . . my handsome sire. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen can't help but watch them, memories causing phantom sensations; he's never been more grateful to have a good memory. He eventually grabs one of their hands and presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

"Is it flattery if it's the truth?..."

He pauses a moment, biting back the urge to say "I hate you" - even though they'd both knew it was a heatless statement by now.

"You know how I despise that title..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They squeak when he kisses their hand, turning to look at him, though any ire that they might’ve had is immediately gone. So instead, they roll their eyes }

‘’ Perhaps. Perhaps not. ‘’

{ A smirk crosses their face when he brings up his loathing for that old title. They soon enough let go of his hand and move closer as to cup his face }

‘’ Oh, I know . . . but you get so riled up when I call you it, sire. And you’re very cute when you’re all riled up. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

A small smile graces his face, the corners of his lips tipping upwards, as they squeak. Oh how he's missed this. He melts into their touch, as much as he can of course, tilting his head to press a light kiss against their palm.

"It's far closer to a statement than flattery."

Owen can't help but pout at them. He hates how well they know how to mess with him.

"I'm not cute..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They hum, a slight blush crossing their face as he kisses their palm. Though, with just as much as a smirk, they steal a kiss from him. Despite the lack of life, the love and spark still lingers there }

‘’ Sure, sure. Whatever helps you . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He pressed another, slightly longer kiss against their palm. One perk of no longer being made of flesh abd blood was that he could no longer blush and encourage their shenanigans by doing so. It won't give them the same satisfaction now, a small win for him.

"I'm really not. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked, sweetheart."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They pout, very aware of how increasingly flustered they’re getting }

‘’ Yeah? Well, maybe you need to shut up, sire. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen can't help but laugh a bit at how they're blushing. Adorable. He presses his face further against their hand, he'd melt into them if he could.

"Oh? Why don't you make me then, fledgling."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They purr, leaning into his hand around their neck while thoroughly enjoying the fleeting sensation of his fingers in their hair. Though, out of everything in that moment, it was the familiar nickname that made them pause, heart softening and breaking at its recall }

‘’ You remember . . . of course you remember. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He can't help but giggle a little at their tone, and even more he can't help but start purring too - it's light, yes, but undoubtedly it's there. He presses another kiss to the top of their head, a part of him wanting to kiss their face but not wanting to move them. When he talks his voice is almost pure teasing.

"Did you think I could forget?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They laugh, pulling away from his shoulder and easing their grip on him. They’ve missed this. They’ve missed him. His teasing, his shame, his love, his anger. They missed everything about him }

‘’ I guess so, though I can’t fathom why. ‘’

{ It’s another brief, fleeting second, but they lean up to steal a kiss from him, even though the action seems entirely pointless }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen smiles slightly as they kiss him, bringing the hand not already tangled in their hair to cup their cheek. He misses the feel of their skin, but this was still better than not being with them at all. He adores them, he truly does.

"How silly of you to think I could forget a single thing about you."

He presses a kiss to their cheek, a gesture fleeting and even more pointless than theirs, yet he knows they'll love it all the same.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They hum, smiling at the return of their gesture. Pointless as it all is, it means something, even if so many would call it nothing }

‘’ I know, I know. I really am your fool. ‘’

{ Again, they kiss him, desperately wishing for his touch like how it once was }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen leans into it as much as he can, desperately wishing to feel them again. This was his own fault, and he knew that, but he still greatly regretted it now.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

His thumb rubbed back and forth on their cheek, pointless now but the thought and geesturre still there.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, choking on a sob before burring their face against him once more. After a moment, they pull a distance away from him and grab his arm, slowly trailing kisses up it, looking back at him every so often for some sort of response }

‘’ You flatter me. Even when you deserve it more . . . my handsome sire. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen can't help but watch them, memories causing phantom sensations; he's never been more grateful to have a good memory. He eventually grabs one of their hands and presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

"Is it flattery if it's the truth?..."

He pauses a moment, biting back the urge to say "I hate you" - even though they'd both knew it was a heatless statement by now.

"You know how I despise that title..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They squeak when he kisses their hand, turning to look at him, though any ire that they might’ve had is immediately gone. So instead, they roll their eyes }

‘’ Perhaps. Perhaps not. ‘’

{ A smirk crosses their face when he brings up his loathing for that old title. They soon enough let go of his hand and move closer as to cup his face }

‘’ Oh, I know . . . but you get so riled up when I call you it, sire. And you’re very cute when you’re all riled up. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

A small smile graces his face, the corners of his lips tipping upwards, as they squeak. Oh how he's missed this. He melts into their touch, as much as he can of course, tilting his head to press a light kiss against their palm.

"It's far closer to a statement than flattery."

Owen can't help but pout at them. He hates how well they know how to mess with him.

"I'm not cute..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They hum, a slight blush crossing their face as he kisses their palm. Though, with just as much as a smirk, they steal a kiss from him. Despite the lack of life, the love and spark still lingers there }

‘’ Sure, sure. Whatever helps you . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He pressed another, slightly longer kiss against their palm. One perk of no longer being made of flesh abd blood was that he could no longer blush and encourage their shenanigans by doing so. It won't give them the same satisfaction now, a small win for him.

"I'm really not. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked, sweetheart."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They purr, leaning into his hand around their neck while thoroughly enjoying the fleeting sensation of his fingers in their hair. Though, out of everything in that moment, it was the familiar nickname that made them pause, heart softening and breaking at its recall }

‘’ You remember . . . of course you remember. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He can't help but giggle a little at their tone, and even more he can't help but start purring too - it's light, yes, but undoubtedly it's there. He presses another kiss to the top of their head, a part of him wanting to kiss their face but not wanting to move them. When he talks his voice is almost pure teasing.

"Did you think I could forget?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They laugh, pulling away from his shoulder and easing their grip on him. They’ve missed this. They’ve missed him. His teasing, his shame, his love, his anger. They missed everything about him }

‘’ I guess so, though I can’t fathom why. ‘’

{ It’s another brief, fleeting second, but they lean up to steal a kiss from him, even though the action seems entirely pointless }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen smiles slightly as they kiss him, bringing the hand not already tangled in their hair to cup their cheek. He misses the feel of their skin, but this was still better than not being with them at all. He adores them, he truly does.

"How silly of you to think I could forget a single thing about you."

He presses a kiss to their cheek, a gesture fleeting and even more pointless than theirs, yet he knows they'll love it all the same.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They hum, smiling at the return of their gesture. Pointless as it all is, it means something, even if so many would call it nothing }

‘’ I know, I know. I really am your fool. ‘’

{ Again, they kiss him, desperately wishing for his touch like how it once was }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen leans into it as much as he can, desperately wishing to feel them again. This was his own fault, and he knew that, but he still greatly regretted it now.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

His thumb rubbed back and forth on their cheek, pointless now but the thought and geesturre still there.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, choking on a sob before burring their face against him once more. After a moment, they pull a distance away from him and grab his arm, slowly trailing kisses up it, looking back at him every so often for some sort of response }

‘’ You flatter me. Even when you deserve it more . . . my handsome sire. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen can't help but watch them, memories causing phantom sensations; he's never been more grateful to have a good memory. He eventually grabs one of their hands and presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

"Is it flattery if it's the truth?..."

He pauses a moment, biting back the urge to say "I hate you" - even though they'd both knew it was a heatless statement by now.

"You know how I despise that title..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They squeak when he kisses their hand, turning to look at him, though any ire that they might’ve had is immediately gone. So instead, they roll their eyes }

‘’ Perhaps. Perhaps not. ‘’

{ A smirk crosses their face when he brings up his loathing for that old title. They soon enough let go of his hand and move closer as to cup his face }

‘’ Oh, I know . . . but you get so riled up when I call you it, sire. And you’re very cute when you’re all riled up. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

A small smile graces his face, the corners of his lips tipping upwards, as they squeak. Oh how he's missed this. He melts into their touch, as much as he can of course, tilting his head to press a light kiss against their palm.

"It's far closer to a statement than flattery."

Owen can't help but pout at them. He hates how well they know how to mess with him.

"I'm not cute..."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They purr, leaning into his hand around their neck while thoroughly enjoying the fleeting sensation of his fingers in their hair. Though, out of everything in that moment, it was the familiar nickname that made them pause, heart softening and breaking at its recall }

‘’ You remember . . . of course you remember. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He can't help but giggle a little at their tone, and even more he can't help but start purring too - it's light, yes, but undoubtedly it's there. He presses another kiss to the top of their head, a part of him wanting to kiss their face but not wanting to move them. When he talks his voice is almost pure teasing.

"Did you think I could forget?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They laugh, pulling away from his shoulder and easing their grip on him. They’ve missed this. They’ve missed him. His teasing, his shame, his love, his anger. They missed everything about him }

‘’ I guess so, though I can’t fathom why. ‘’

{ It’s another brief, fleeting second, but they lean up to steal a kiss from him, even though the action seems entirely pointless }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen smiles slightly as they kiss him, bringing the hand not already tangled in their hair to cup their cheek. He misses the feel of their skin, but this was still better than not being with them at all. He adores them, he truly does.

"How silly of you to think I could forget a single thing about you."

He presses a kiss to their cheek, a gesture fleeting and even more pointless than theirs, yet he knows they'll love it all the same.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They hum, smiling at the return of their gesture. Pointless as it all is, it means something, even if so many would call it nothing }

‘’ I know, I know. I really am your fool. ‘’

{ Again, they kiss him, desperately wishing for his touch like how it once was }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen leans into it as much as he can, desperately wishing to feel them again. This was his own fault, and he knew that, but he still greatly regretted it now.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

His thumb rubbed back and forth on their cheek, pointless now but the thought and geesturre still there.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, choking on a sob before burring their face against him once more. After a moment, they pull a distance away from him and grab his arm, slowly trailing kisses up it, looking back at him every so often for some sort of response }

‘’ You flatter me. Even when you deserve it more . . . my handsome sire. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen can't help but watch them, memories causing phantom sensations; he's never been more grateful to have a good memory. He eventually grabs one of their hands and presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

"Is it flattery if it's the truth?..."

He pauses a moment, biting back the urge to say "I hate you" - even though they'd both knew it was a heatless statement by now.

"You know how I despise that title..."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They purr, leaning into his hand around their neck while thoroughly enjoying the fleeting sensation of his fingers in their hair. Though, out of everything in that moment, it was the familiar nickname that made them pause, heart softening and breaking at its recall }

‘’ You remember . . . of course you remember. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He can't help but giggle a little at their tone, and even more he can't help but start purring too - it's light, yes, but undoubtedly it's there. He presses another kiss to the top of their head, a part of him wanting to kiss their face but not wanting to move them. When he talks his voice is almost pure teasing.

"Did you think I could forget?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They laugh, pulling away from his shoulder and easing their grip on him. They’ve missed this. They’ve missed him. His teasing, his shame, his love, his anger. They missed everything about him }

‘’ I guess so, though I can’t fathom why. ‘’

{ It’s another brief, fleeting second, but they lean up to steal a kiss from him, even though the action seems entirely pointless }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen smiles slightly as they kiss him, bringing the hand not already tangled in their hair to cup their cheek. He misses the feel of their skin, but this was still better than not being with them at all. He adores them, he truly does.

"How silly of you to think I could forget a single thing about you."

He presses a kiss to their cheek, a gesture fleeting and even more pointless than theirs, yet he knows they'll love it all the same.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They hum, smiling at the return of their gesture. Pointless as it all is, it means something, even if so many would call it nothing }

‘’ I know, I know. I really am your fool. ‘’

{ Again, they kiss him, desperately wishing for his touch like how it once was }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen leans into it as much as he can, desperately wishing to feel them again. This was his own fault, and he knew that, but he still greatly regretted it now.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

His thumb rubbed back and forth on their cheek, pointless now but the thought and geesturre still there.

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They purr, leaning into his hand around their neck while thoroughly enjoying the fleeting sensation of his fingers in their hair. Though, out of everything in that moment, it was the familiar nickname that made them pause, heart softening and breaking at its recall }

‘’ You remember . . . of course you remember. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He can't help but giggle a little at their tone, and even more he can't help but start purring too - it's light, yes, but undoubtedly it's there. He presses another kiss to the top of their head, a part of him wanting to kiss their face but not wanting to move them. When he talks his voice is almost pure teasing.

"Did you think I could forget?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They laugh, pulling away from his shoulder and easing their grip on him. They’ve missed this. They’ve missed him. His teasing, his shame, his love, his anger. They missed everything about him }

‘’ I guess so, though I can’t fathom why. ‘’

{ It’s another brief, fleeting second, but they lean up to steal a kiss from him, even though the action seems entirely pointless }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen smiles slightly as they kiss him, bringing the hand not already tangled in their hair to cup their cheek. He misses the feel of their skin, but this was still better than not being with them at all. He adores them, he truly does.

"How silly of you to think I could forget a single thing about you."

He presses a kiss to their cheek, a gesture fleeting and even more pointless than theirs, yet he knows they'll love it all the same.

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They purr, leaning into his hand around their neck while thoroughly enjoying the fleeting sensation of his fingers in their hair. Though, out of everything in that moment, it was the familiar nickname that made them pause, heart softening and breaking at its recall }

‘’ You remember . . . of course you remember. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

He can't help but giggle a little at their tone, and even more he can't help but start purring too - it's light, yes, but undoubtedly it's there. He presses another kiss to the top of their head, a part of him wanting to kiss their face but not wanting to move them. When he talks his voice is almost pure teasing.

"Did you think I could forget?"

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They’re silent for a long time, breathing slowly steadying to a lull. Their grip of him never loosens, though. They’re terrified to turn around, even if they’ve already seen it a thousand times before. So instead, they focus on his words again, turning them over and over before gently pressing a kiss to his neck }

‘’ My Lykoi . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen kisses the top of their head again, his fingers tangling themselves into their hair. He'd missed this, he missed it far more than he could ever express with words. He wishes he could cry too, he knows he'd hate feeling weak but it would feel nice, relaxing even.

"Sweetheart..."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He buries his face into the other’s shoulder, fisting his sweater to steady the shaking of his own violent sobs. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever could’ve expected it to hurt. And, for a split second, he loses control. The room shifts from the silent and cold estate hall to the open and warm grass of a graveyard. Despite having his eyes closed, he sees exactly what Owen sees. Too many graves marked with the last name “Scathelocke.” So many had been beaten and covered, but they all looked as though someone tried to keep care of them, albeit desperately and messily }

‘’ I-I’m sorry. I missed you. I swear I missed you. I love you, I love you . . . I’m sorry. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen glaces around the new surroundings before burrying his face into their hair. He couldn't quite feel them, but he knew exactly what it should feel like, he would almost say he could feel the phantom sensations. One of his hands moves to rest on the nape of their neck as he presses kiss to the top of their head.

He knew he could ask questions later, now was simply not the right time. He briefly wondered if they could feel him more than he could feel them, that would make sense.

"I missed you too...I love you so, so much."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They smile, eyes softening as they watch his every move. This is the man they loved. The one that they still love. And, admittedly, they’re quite proud of that. It’s almost unnoticeable, but a tear does roll down their cheek, and quickly afterwards, they pull him into a hug. He still feels real, even when he’s not. Maybe that’s the most tragic part of all }

‘’ I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m sorry . . . ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen was sure if he could he'd be almost crying. He knew that it was his own fault for how Louis had to see him off, but still he couldn't quite comprehend how easily Allen would admit he still cares. He expected more anger.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I missed you more than you could ever imagine."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They just stand there, watching him for a few minutes. It’s good that he feels ashamed, they keep thinking. He should feel ashamed. They should be happy about that. After all, one of the few things they wished for was to see him again and explain just how much he hurt them. But now . . . he was miserable enough. And so they decidedly stepped closer and took his hands once again in their own, silently praying that he’ll look at them again }

‘’ I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what you did. I hope you recognize that. ‘’

{ After a beat, they press a kiss to one of his hands once again, before gently tracing the scarring. It takes some time before they finally admit it, but when they do, they’re sure to make sure it holds definite sincerity }

‘’ I do still love you. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

At first Owen nearly pulls away, even still he's unable to hide the slight flinch when they first grab his hands, and again they begin tracing his scars. Yet he leans their touch soon enough, he never could resist them much.

He stares at their hands for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze up his arms and to his face. He's sure that if he still could he would be blushing at the moment - not that he'd ever admit it. He slowly brings one of their hands to his lips, the gesture is there but he's unsure of how much they can feel it.

There's a large part of him that still wants to believe that he's mad at him, but who was he to call them a liar? He presses a second kiss to their hand.

"I love you too."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ They sigh, feeling . . . well, simply feeling after what they had done. And so, to distract from the fact, he starts speaking again, shifting to look back at Louis’ portrait, with Owen’s hanging near to it }

‘’ When I drank from you, I got many memories that were not my own. Some belonged to the Doctor, some belonged to you . . . In all the time I’ve spent with them, I realized that our relationship was one giant cycle played over again. Love, lose, lose. First you lost Louis, then I lost you. And in the end? The losses—the grief—overpowers what once was love. ‘’

{ Finally, he moves his gaze back to Owen, looking at him for perhaps too long before speaking again }

‘’ I have decided, however, to not let the grief I have cause more losses. I have decided not to fall into the same position that you did. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen listens and continues to stare at the ground, after all they were entirely right. He knew to be ashamed now, he knew he had no right to stare at them, as he had already pointed out, and he knew he had no right to argue or try and justify himself. He can feel them staring at him and refuses all the more to look up in fear of finding any expression similar to what Louis' had been.

In fact, he wasn't sure any expression they could have at the moment would make him feel better.

He absent-mindedly rubs slightly at his hands, nearly still in disbelief that Allen could, and would, touch him.

"Understandable."

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ It’s in almost the blink of an eye that they silently move and take Owen’s hands in their own, pressing quick kisses to both before letting go and turning their back to him once more. Ghosts were tricky business as far as he had learned from the tales passed down by his ancestors. They could be touched, and they could touch, but only around a Clockmaker. There wasn’t much else documented past that. Not many had experienced an encounter with timely spirits, not since the incident. Perhaps that’s another reason Allen has been so hesitant to get near, much less touch, Owen. There’s too much uncertainty. Though, when has that ever stopped him }

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen stops moving entirely for a moment, almost scared that if he moved he'd find out this was all an elaborate hallucination and he truly was still in hell. As it hit him that this was in fact stil real he questioned if ghosts could blush, if they could he was certain he was at the moment. He stares at his hands for another before he finally looks back up at them. If he were truly that mad at him Owen is almost certain he wouldn't have done that.

"I- hey- You can't just-!"

But they could, and he was sure they both knew that, because Owen was mad in some way but he wasn't insane enough to ever stop them from showing him love.

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ For a brief, fleeting moment, he cracked a smile. As terrorizing as Owen was, he was still Owen. That same quiet, grief-stricken man that Allen had found. That same respectful, devoted fool that they had once loved. Spirits, they had missed him . . . but not enough to forget }

‘’ I don’t know. ‘’

{ It was hard to admit. Allen hadn’t bothered keeping track of time, despite how habitual it was thanks to his bloodline. Frankly, his relationship with time was an unforgiving one. Therefore, he often chose to simply ignore it. But, somewhere deep down, he did still have a sense of time, and that sense gave him the truth of the hard matter }

‘’ . . . Too long. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen briefly glances back at Allen as he talks, but it's quick enough to barely be noticeable. There's a large part of him that wants to hug them, yet he's not even sure he could, and even more he doesn't wish to make them more irritated with him.

Owen wasn't quite sure how long was too long, or whether it meant Allen missed Oakhurst or missed him, nor would he ask, he didn't want to make things worse already. He nodded slightly and gave a small "Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. What could he say to not make things worse?

He stares at his hands a moment instead of the floor, a short lived change as he quickly tries to pull his sleeves over them. A terrible thing about death was that he could no longer keep his bandages on every inch of him, he couldn't pull them over his hands anymore - something he did in Oakhurst before he had to use his claws as often - just so he didn't have to look at all the scars.

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ That makes him falter, if only for a split second, though he quickly covers it up again }

‘’ If that’s the closest you’ll get to an apology, I’ll take it. ‘’

{ His focus shifts to the portrait of Pyro, Shelby’s beside him and Avid’s next to her’s. When Abolish had first found Allen, he broke the news to them. Said he was there when Owen passed and Shelby instigated Pyro’s passing. And what did he offer next? A business card to reach him with and an offer to move in with Scott, Shelby and Drift once they’ve settled. When that didn’t work, he offered other solutions. Other condolences. Other ways to forgive and forget. Allen doesn’t recall what he said when he finally snapped, but it was the last he spoke to Abolish, and he’s proud of that. He’s never been such an easily forgetful man }

‘’ You know, it would make me so much happier if you stopped staring at me. As charming as that once was, I’m afraid you’ve lost that privilege. ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen forces his gaze down to the ground, he was stubborn about many things but he was still respectful as much as he could be, and even more than that he wanted to make Allen happy if he could. He's already caused them plenty of pain, after all.

He fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, he can touch it yes but it feels like nothing, it's simply a mindless action. He shrinks in on himself slightly, an accidental, silent show of shame. Though he does take the fact that he hasn't yelled or told him to leave yet as a minor win. He tries to stay quiet but a question had been gnawing at his mind this whole time, and finally he blurted it out, the quietness of his own voice making him mentally cringe.

"...How long has it been?"

[satinaholefor200years]

{ How long had it been? Two months? A year? Too long; it had been two long since the barriers of Oakhurst fell away and breathed unholy life into the rest of the world. It had been too long since he had last been truly loved, been truly humane. It had been too long since the falling of many innocents, some more bloodied than others. It had been too long, that Allen had almost forgotten what they all looked like.

Of course, that’s why he had commissioned so many portraits. He didn’t want to forget. Guilty, innocent; known and unknown. They all deserved to be remembered. Alive or dead. 

Perhaps that’s why he sat in the main hall every night, surrounded by their watchful eyes. Remembrance. Though, he had enough of that with those he allowed to stay in his estate. They were enough to remind him. And still, Allen would spend the late hours of the night to the rising of the sun alone in this hall. He never spoke a word about the folks in the paintings, but he would speak to them }

‘’ Recently let in this war general, Doc. He reminds me of you. ‘’

— @scarl3tt-h0rror

Owen still wasn't quite sure he was used to being a ghost - spirit? he wasn't sure what he technically was - but he did know that it was it's own form of hell. Time passed weird after he died, every moment felt brief, fleeting, and fake - with the exception of his last look at Louis, that was burned into his mind. Hell only felt numb, the flames that scorched his skin yet left no mark nothing but background for his thoughts of Louis.

He did of course think of others, Legundo and Allen mostly. But he didn’t know what happened to them, nor did he try to think of it, thus how he ended up lingering on Louis.

Yet, with little more than a blink, or at least that's what it felt like to him, he was here. He wasn't sure where "here" was but he did know it had Allen. And that was far better and more comfortable than any hell.

The sound of Allen's voice was all the more comforting. He didn't panic about the new surroundings, he didn't try to leave, he simply stayed because he could and he wanted to.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ In the brief moments he’d experienced before, a warp of time was a massive headache for him. It’s how he knew something was wrong, and how he came to spot Owen, standing there still and cold. It almost gave Allen a heart attack, seeing him there again. He’s had his fair share of timely hallucinations, but those never caused headaches. This was different. Yet, he made no move or sound about it. Instead, he spoke one, open-ended question that he left hanging in the air, intensely charged as it was }

‘’ What happened to never leaving each other? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen averted his gaze as if immediately able to tell it was for him. He goes to dig his claws into the flesh of his palm, only there wasn't any actual flesh for pain to stem from. He can't help but glance back at Allen, his gaze lingering over his face, the curve his jaw and the way their hair fell over their face - it was hardly his fault that they were so beautiful.

He forces himself to look down, something akin to shame flickering across his face as he debates how to properly answer their question - but truthfully he knows there's no good answer, and he was never one to apologize quickly.

"...Some promises are hard to keep."

His voice is smaller than he meant it to be, then again it's one of the first times he's talked since dying.

[scarl3tt-h0rror]

{ He’s silent, replaying that answer over and over. Eventually, he simply scoffs, standing up and walking right past Owen, over to the painting of Louis instead }

‘’ Abolish said you had died with the hope of seeing him again . . . I can’t blame you for that. ‘’

{ After a beat, he turns to face the spirit, posture and emotions revealing nothing, and voice dead as can be }

‘’ I had asked him if you had given anything, said anything before you left. He shook his head. I lost you and Pyro in the same day. ‘’

{ There’s a split second where his hand twitches, but he tries not to pay it mind. Instead, he turns to walk again, this time not stopping till he reached the portrait of his dearest dead friend }

‘’ . . . though I suppose you weren’t thinking about that, were you? ‘’

[satinaholefor200years]

Owen didn't meet his gaze - how could he? - yet he didn't take his eyes off of them. The only thing he stares at other than them is the painting of Louis, he can't help but nearly flinch at remembering how Louis stared at him when he saw him off to hell.

Owen notices the twitch of their hand and the way he clearly avoids his painting. For a split second he wishes he was back in hell, a thought he quickly smothers - at least now he knew Allen had stayed safe when whatever happened in Oakhurst finished.

"I suppose I got caught up in the moment, or rather the thought of seeing him again."