your scott design is so pretty please put him in situations 🙏🙏
ive been really busy with midterms so nothing fancy- but you are lucky again because all iive been doodling is scott... so here is a little silly scovid doodle cause my owners brainworms are contagious...
Day #4 of #Crow's Spontaneous Spring Sojourn Scribbles-Fest
[Whump]
[Double whump'd up on a thursday]
Shelby left a crutch next to his bed. It was 'safest' to leave him in the crypt while the rest of them were out, attending to grand plots and schemes in Oakhurst. And Avid was here, alone bar the torturous company of what was.
Laying here is agony, he looks down at limp nothingness past the knee of his crimson trousers and tries to brace for the next horrid ache that will clutch at the absence of flesh. No one is here… he doesn't have to put on a braveish face, but he tries for himself.
He misses his leg. He misses the silver prosthetic the doc had helped him make to 'kick the vampires ass' but now he was one and at first it was fine, just burned like fire salting the marrow of his bones. But as soon as he impulsively ascended to the second stage of vampirism, it scorched every nerve and had him howling in agony and forcing it off, falling flat on his face in front of everyone. Owen's dismissing sigh, Pyro's look of piteous disdain, and Shelby and Drift rushing down to help him up like he couldn't manage by himself.
So at the moment, the last person he wants to see is the one who mangled his leg beyond repair, the one who had made the Doctor apologetic and focused as he sawed through the top of the fibula, who was the reason Avid was screaming into the leather band that stopped him from biting his tongue and muffling his screams. But all of Oakhurst could hear him then, it has an appetite for screams, and it could hear him now. And yet all he can see is Scott.
Avid sighs, starfishing out on the old bed in his loose white shirt and crimson trousers, newly grey skin haunted by the glow of a flickering candle in his bed side lending him a uncanny glow. He glares at the precisely formed shadow in the slap-dash doorway.
"Oh great, here to laugh some?" a exasperated chuckle breaks over his exhausted smile. Another pang of pain rushes up his thigh and Avid's claws shred the side of the mattress with how hard he squeezes. Scott looks at him blankly, none of the hostility or cooing pity of the other vampires, just a complete and utter absence like his face is set in porcelain - like he doesn't know quite what to think.
"Geez Avid, I was just coming to chec-" and the burning of ethereal silver is replaced with the white hot straight of a branding iron through his non-existent calf, the gorging worms who are digging into it in the soil of this damned place. Avid breaks.
"Just leave me alone Scott!" Avid snaps and the castle falls silence as his voice echoes through the bricks. Through the very foundations, new and old, and into the very soul of Oakhurst's dirt. His throat burns like he's swallowed silver shavings, and he throws himself back into the bed as if it's malign comfort could bury the hurt.
"Shelby said I should try and come apologise" he says it like the words pain him. It's just them in the castle, everyone else is out, of course he would pick now. "but if that's what you want, fine."
And the thought of the horrid absence that would be left, the isolating suffocation of the crypt, chills him to the core.
"Wait please don't..." Avid whispers pleadingly, and reaches for him before he tries to take a step but there is nothing there - the searing phantom pain tricking his mind into thinking there was anything solid there to ground him. Before he can tip half over, Scott catches him, dashing in a swarm of bats and reappearing his arms under Avid's, the former hunter's head on his shoulder.
"Why are you-"
"Don't see anyone else here to help."
"Gosh you're the worst."
"So I've been told."
Scott could put him back on the bed. He doesn't.
Avid inhales sharply, and a sob breaks out, wetting the fine cloak he is pulling at and burying his face in, and this horrible sensation overwhelms the pain, that Scott is going to be mad he is ruining his outfit with his 'pitiful tears'. But he just holds him, let's his hands scramble for purchase, weakly pawing at his cloak, soaking his shoulder with tears, and he doesn't say a word.
Avid is not proud to admit it to himself, but he needed this, someone to just hold him in the silence, no judgement or pity or expecting him to keep on keeping on, he just is allowed to fall apart in Scott's arms which stay around him far beyond when they need to, claws tracing up his spine in a way that cannot but help feel insidious, although there is a strange comfort to it that he clings to.
“I couldn’t even sit up… can't even…”
Scott doesn't say sorry - Avid doesn't think he knows what a genuine apology is - but he scoops up the sobbing fledgling vampire with surprising easy, carrying him bridal as to not disturb the deathly burial of his face against his shoulder.
"What are you - "
"As annoying as you can be, it's cruel to leave you alone down here, you can help with some of the maps." Scott states as he floats across the sodden floor of the crypt.
As he is carrying Avid up the spiral stairs of the crypt, he wonders while burying himself into the pomegranate and aged brandy haze of the vampire, if this is Scott's round about way of killing him. He would be more exposed in the main hall, it would be better to keep him safe in the crypt. But as he clings to Scott, trembling with the ghosts of torment, he finds he doesn't much care for the risk in the face of the desperate need for company. Even if it is Scott. At least he is a pretty sight.
