Imagine having spent so long not only alone, but actively running from death like a game of cat and mouse. Every 100hrs guarantees a new horror filled life where death promises a complete restart.
You travel to a new land to Not only find people, Not only be thrown back into a horror you have already completed, but the rules of life have been changed. Whilst the cold bite of death once meant day one started again instead he's in a world where suddenly you can die multiple times. You don't know for sure how many times, and each time down is another gamble on whether you'll come back again or if you'll start again but alone this time.
Maybe some nights, when sleep finally claims him, he dreams that the first death was the last. That none of this was really happening. Does he wake up panicked, already reaching for people he barely even knows the face of just to reassure himself that he's not alone again? Does he constantly check his own pulse to be sure his heart is still beating?
This is a haunted winter bloodletting au idea (because c!Owen and c!Legundo must be together in every universe and because I like torturing Legs) that I somehow managed to actually write something down for. So context this is instead of Avid, Marm, Viking, Drift, and Apo being dropped in the winter with Legundo its just v!Owen.
So heres tiny my writing drabble(not sure that's the right word). But just keep in mind I'm not a writer I generally only do art.
So without further ado here it is:
Owen sees Louis' face for the last time his gaze watching as Owen sinks to hell.
Owen wakes up in a forest. It's unlike Oakhearsts woods, covered in snow. And Owen feels different he feels cold but not the cold from deep within his own body. But instead the freezeing bite of winter. He shivers.
Owen wonders though this cold hell. Taking in every tree seeing if he recognize the type. He continues to walk untill he can no longer. He eventually lays in the snow and stares at the skyhe wonders if Louis is still watching, it's the last thing he sees before he dies.
Owen wakes up in a cold forest
-–|🪻|–-–|🪻|–-🌒🌕🌘-–|🪻|–-–-–|🪻|–-
Legs has been here before. He ignores this in favor of quickly gathering supplies. Muttering to himself what he's needs when he hear's it. Soft consistent crunches of snow almost non existent. Legundo pauses and grips his axe tightly. Hes quick to look around to spot the danger.
(Skip to him finding Owen).
There's a human...?
.
.
.
Legundo has to stop and stare at who looks to be a ghost of a person. They have odd colored hair of white and brown almost like stripes with very stretched curls. Clothes of red and a very out dated fashion(or at least what he thinks to be).
They're just walking slowly not sporadically like a zombie but instead just moving forward. Despite visibly shaking or are they shivering? They just keep walking.
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(Skip again to Owen noticing him)
Owen has to laugh because of course Legundo is a part of this hellscape.
(Skip)
"Hello soldier"
Owen kills Legundo but it doesn't actually kill him. The soldier just lays their pleading for Owen to revive(?) him, to talk.
(Skip again to when Legundo convinces Owen to not murder him again)
Now that Owen has a chance to really look at him he can tell this isn't his Legundo. The man has a similar build and height to the doctor but his face, his face is all wrong there's no giant scar across most of it but rather scars are sporadically sprinkled around it. His wrinkles are in all the wrong places. His eyes are somehow darker, almost lifeless. And somehow singlehandedly looking older and younger than his doctor. The man holds himself with more tightness like he's always ready for a fight.
If you’ve seen Haunted Winter, may I request a fic about that? Really any POV, there needs to be more HW fics in general.
If you haven’t, then what about something to do with the Doc and Abolish Veylockle? Or him trying to be supportive to Apokuna, the other soldier in town? Or all three. :)
haven't had a chance to watch the HW finale yet because i've been busy </3 i'm also VERY new to the 100dmv stuff and slowly trying to catch up on it so i hope he's accurate here aaa
but how about a little calm before the storm? is touch-averse + touch-starved 100dmv legs a thing? because it is to me.....
i'm still doing fic bribes for legs votes if anyone wants to send more ;)
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Warmth is a luxury, in this place.
It helps to dull the ache a little. Helps tense muscles finally relax for a moment. Helps sleep come a touch easier.
The others are asleep. Finally. Sitting around the fireplace with wool blankets pulled snugly around themselves and hoods low over their faces. Marm is curled up with her head in Avid's lap, he and Drift leaning on each other with their heads hanging in a way that can't be comfortable. Viking had had...a harder time. Adamant about finding his missing friend.
Something in the back of Legundo's mind pulls whenever he mentions "Apo." Something feels wrong and he can't place why.
But finally--finally--even Viking dozes off.
When his head falls against Legs' shoulder, the man stiffens. Legs had startled him back awake with an instinctual shove; fortunately he's too tired and bleary-eyed to really register what had pulled him from his sleep.
Legs is more careful when he nods off again, even as every muscle in his body is primed to leap away from the touch.
Touch isn't an easy thing for him. Touch means something is close enough to stab, to slash, to bite, to maim--to kill. His skin is pockmarked with the scars to prove it, and it's the one thing he can be grateful to this winter hell for: at least it means he can cover most of them up and they won't think anything of it. They stare enough at the ones marring his face.
(He denies that he craves any touch they offer. That the warmth of their hands lingers when they help him up or offer him tools or pat him on the shoulder.)
(Denying it to himself is easier.)
(It will make it hurt less when he's torn away from them to be alone again.)
He's grateful for the company--he is, really! He thinks. He hopes.
But he also hates that it means others have been dragged into this with him. He's supposed to suffer this alone--either surviving long enough or dying a brutal death to start somewhere new, so what had changed?
Viking shifts, an arm slinging across Legs' lap. He freezes and sucks in a breath, forcing his eyes to pin on the fire. (He wonders if the touch burns even more than it would to stick his hand in it.) It sinks its claws into his mind, ensures he can't ignore it no matter how much he tries. It's there, pressing against him. Trapping him-
A shaky breath, and he gently moves Viking's arm until it's tucked into his own lap. The man grumbles something in his sleep and presses his face more firmly into Legs' coat.
He tries not to think about what will happen when--no, no, if, he needs to think if not when--he can't save these people.
Right now...he just needs to make himself focus on survival.
Like he always has.
Just...with the added complication of other people joining him. He's had companions before. Animals, pets, but companions nonetheless.
He tries not to think about his track record of losing those companions.
