Be Wherever You Are

Researching…fun?  Atticus didn’t know how to respond to that.  And he didn’t exactly like her tone, even though, if he was being honest with himself, no, he didn’t.  Things that were hard to get, which, in his position, wasn’t a lot of things—weren’t exactly worth it in his mind.  Yet he didn’t have anything to prove to Lark, and so he decided to admit as much.  “I don’t think I’ve wanted anything that was very difficult to get,” he shifted in his seat to a more formal position.  “The research—you’d probably have to find a smarter person to help you with that.  But obtaining the books you want…that I can help with.”  Atticus could imagine it was more difficult for Lark to talk about her past and her difficulties with vampire things, and so he said nothing in reply to her.  But he was more surprised at the last question directed towards him.  “I suppose I don’t know,” he answered quietly.  “I probably wouldn’t be as restrained as you are.  It’s always been hard for me to hold myself back.”

After a long day of doing nothing at the café, Atticus was ready to go back to the Ethereal Realm and recharge the old ‘magic batteries.’  He stood up and gave a small stretch after being hunched over his gameboy for so long, and got up to put his mug away.   His mind was preoccupied with the time, and getting back to the Realm, that he didn’t realize someone was trying to get his attention.  Atticus started to focus his energy on teleporting back, when at the last moment his mind registered that the “dude” was him.  He whipped around as the barista guy touched his shoulder, and everything went white as he and the guy--Mike, he remembered--went through the barrier into the realm. He couldn’t really think of anything to say at the moment.  “Oh, hey yeah,” he breathed, reaching for his gameboy.  “Have you--I should probably get you back.”  Atticus didn’t know how Mike would deal with being in the Ethereal Realm for the first time.  If it was his first time, that is.

Atticus shoved the first thing he could reach, into his book as a bookmark.  In this case, a receipt from his pocket.  "Coming right up," he responded, sitting up and stretching slightly from his cramped position.  He paused as his twin shoved a piece of paper towards him.  He looked at his sister's expectant expression, and the paper, which seemed to be fairly worn.  Elaine must have kept this with her, maybe constantly examined it?  How did he not know about it, then?  Atticus took the paper from her, and peered at it.  "Uh.  Nothing?  Are you pranking me right now?"  He folded it up and handed it back to her.  "I'll be honest, I think you're running out of ideas."  He tuned into her thoughts automatically, getting up to make her a drink.  Atticus paused.  "What are you repeating?"

Atticus embraced his best friend, and in that moment he released most of the stress he didn’t realize was riding on his shoulders. Sure, their situation had no discernible solution, or any sort of reason as to why. But at least he wasn’t alone any more. “Thank fuck,” he said into her shoulder. He had no earthly idea whose body she was in...just that Briar had hit the mark on the head. This body needed a shower. Atticus had not known Briar to enjoy having any sort of grime on her, so he could imagine the discomfort she was feeling. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “We could go to Elaine’s? But I don’t know if it’s unlocked. And if it’s not, which body has the keys. And I can’t get into the Ethereal Realm either,” Atticus added gravely. “I think Ulani—this body—is a witch. I wasn’t able to talk to her since she’s walking around as a goat.”

Atticus was sprawled on his twin's couch, reading something random he'd pulled from his sister's shelves at the library—a romance novel about a woman falling in love with a cowboy.  It was interesting... it made it easy to forget he was a cowboy at one point, and regretful that obviously he didn't do it right.  Elaine came in the room in a huff, and on mostly calm nights like these they'd communicate mostly by thought, so they didn't have to go to the effort of talking.  But Elaine seemed very out of sorts, and maybe she wanted to rant out loud.  Atticus tipped his head as she sat down, not taking his eyes off the book,  "I think we have some rum still.  I could make us some daquiris?  Or," he actually looked up and squinted.  "Is it one of those drunk-instantly kind of nights?"

He'd heard the line about capitalism before, but never really thought about how it pertained to his situation.  He could tell, though, that Lark had given this some thought before this conversation.  Atticus shrugged.  He wondered vaguely if vampires as a species were very ethical.  But he neither judged, nor cared.  It's not like humans were ethical, though.  "I can imagine," Atticus said instead.  "You do what you have to.  Being cooped up is no fun."  He raised an eyebrow.  "Enough that it would take multiple trips, and multiple library cards?  Are you researching, or just reading for fun?"  Atticus was more about the latter choice.  He nodded as she answered his question.  He knew Lark was reluctant to drink blood, and so he appreciated her answering his question.  "No," he agreed on the last part.  Atticus couldn't even imagine it.  "If you drank until you were full," he asked cautiously, "would you be able to go out in the sun?"

Atticus softened his expression; in part because he was relieved that he was right, in part because he could see that Briar was frazzled and he didn't want to add to her stress, but mostly,  even though she didn't look like herself, she was a sight for sore eyes when he wasn't able to find anyone he knew.  He leaned back.  "I think I know you pretty well," he smiled.  "It's me.  Atti.  I'm sorry whatever happened got to you, too.  You didn't happen to switch with another fae, did you?"  He was starting to wonder how they were going to get to the other realm in this situation.

@devilsroast

“Ulani? I think that was her name.” Atticus frowned, wrapping his arms around her. He and Steffi were never at a hugging relationship, so this was a little odd. He needed to get past that, since this whole situation was odd. “Crap,” he responded. “I guess I was hoping you were a fae so we could get to the realm, but I’m a witch and you’re a vampire. I guess we’re stuck here?” Atticus didn’t mind that, as long as this situation didn’t last very long. Any longer than a week at the most and his mother would have some words. “Are you okay, though? You seem very...not okay. I can’t read your thoughts and so now I have to guess.”

"Yes, mostly that," Atticus answered Lark, "We don't have a lot of plastic manufacturing plants   But it's also more like...how do I word it...some fae are mean and most of them love nature so if I were to bring in plastic I would get yelled at.  And I mean, I am also a nature fae, so I get it?  But at the same time, I think it would be great if some of them chilled out, just a little."  He frowned.  "No, I don't know the librarian in Copenhagen.  What book is over there that you can't get here?"  From Atticus' limited knowledge of vampires, he knew that they needed to drink blood to live.  It flummoxed him that there were some like Lark that just starved herself all the time.  He understood the reason why—obviously there's a moral dilemma with drinking blood from someone—but wouldn't that sort of thing go out the window when you needed it? He narrowed his eyebrows at her answer in confusion.  "I don't know if satisfying is a taste."

The way the man spit out every syllable coated with malice to Atticus let him know this wasn't a one-time occurrence for him, nor was it the first time he had thoughts about the matter.  He wondered, in his head and not out loud, why it mattered so much that someone was begging to be a vampire?  Was the fact that he was a vampire a touchy subject?  Atticus gave a small smile in sympathy as he pocketed the pack, held out a lighter, and turned on the lighter for the man to light his cigarette.  "Is it gross for you to get blood from someone who wants it?  It sounds like it would be a lot easier."

Atticus smiled smugly as Adrian listed off the compliments, thinking there was going to be a trick at the end, and was genuinely surprised that there wasn’t.  “No, by all means keep going, my head hasn’t gotten there yet. What were you saying about how handsome I am?” He should have known his joke about taking Adrian was bound to be one-sided.  While Atticus wished he didn’t care that much about appearances or what his parents thought, it was something he couldn’t seem to escape from mentally or physically.  “I’m thinking an iced latte, your highness.  You get a drink, and then you get the ice as a snack afterwards,” he explained as he pulled himself off the bed, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Atticus whistled a tune as he walked into the Traceless Cafe, like he did most mornings.  He was a little out of sorts and a bit tired, even though he didn’t do anything except stay up late the night before, but he was ready for a couple shots of espresso.  Only, he didn’t need coffee to wake him up anymore; Briar could do that for him.  He was used to Briar jumping on him...but not when she was almost as tall as he was.  “Oof--I mean, hey Bri” Atticus tried not to sound too winded.  “You’re a fucking genius,” he answered, walking to the line while gaining a few inches to accommodate.  “Maybe you can show me how to use my camera function on my phone,” he pulled out his flip phone out of his pocket.  “Since you wanted terrible pictures.”

This day was exhausting, and Atticus decided he was going to just bunk in his sister’s house until things got back to normal.  Assuming things went back to normal by tomorrow.  He hadn’t seen or heard Elaine in his head all day, and when it got to night time he was starting to worry about her, when he heard the door open and Steffi walk through it with Elaine’s keys in hand.  Atticus turned around and examined her for a second, noticing the way his sister somehow made Steffi look like her.  “I’m going to assume you’re Elaine, based on that very Elaine-y look on your face.  Okay but seriously, I’ve been trying to contact you all day, and I know you sometimes ignore my messages, but not for this long.”

The goat didn’t seem very happy to listen to his instructions, based on the angry expression on its face.  But she was trying, and that was more than Atticus expected.  He looked around, noticing real people that weren’t fading away watching him argue with a goat.  He wasn’t embarrassed, but he turned back to the goat and said, “Do you want to go someplace that isn’t a morgue to try and get over it?  We could take a walk, or go to your place?  Maybe you’ll be more comfortable in your own space?”  Atticus now had nothing else going on for the day, and maybe if she stopped being a goat she could explain what happened and how to fix it.

Atticus couldn’t decipher words, but at least the person was understanding his words as he watched the goat nod its head.  Then more angry bleats.  “I can’t help you if you’re freaking out,” he exhaled impatiently.  “You’re acting like you’re the only one with the problem, but not only am I not me, but I’m also seeing shit, and it’s very stressful.”  He didn’t like the way she seemed to find it a problem they were a goat.  That was a little rude.  “Look, I mean it,” Atticus shook his head.  “You have to calm down first, and then maybe I can help you find the magic to turn back.”

Atticus was very overwhelmed, and the worst part of it all was he couldn’t exactly escape his problem by leaving to the fae world.  For one, this body wasn’t fae, and so he couldn’t get into his home.  And other, his problem was himself.  And so he wandered aimlessly around Traceless, hoping whatever spell the town was under would wear off soon.  Atticus walked towards the edge of town, spying some ghosts darting amongst the trees.  That was another thing; all his powers were gone except for this woman’s--Ulani’s--who could see spirits.  It was a little unnerving and yet, he found he didn’t mind them so much.  He sat down on the curb of a small street and watched them, wondering where his friends and family were when he spotted a figure who looked a lot more solid walking down the road. He looked away, then back at the person again, thinking. Atticus wouldn’t have thought anything of them, just another person... except for their expression. His eyes narrowed.  If it wasn’t her, he’d just apologize and move on, but he gave it a shot. “...Briar?”