estherlincolnâ:
@blindxbeanâ!
Something feltâŚoff the very moment Esther had stepped foot out of the car. She couldnât place it, nor could she focus enough with the wind and chilling temperatures to notice was it was or in this case who. But the unsettling feeling never left, even as she ventured into the coffee shop, Through the Looking Glass, for her morning fix that had become far too habitual since her times traveling. The fae kept to herself, for the most part, only offering a faint smile to the man who held the door open for her to pop inside before a gust of wind rushed past, sweeping away a few papers from someoneâs grasp and a hat off the top of a balding manâs head.Â
Yet, even inside among the quaint nature of the cafe, Esther still couldnât ignore that discomfort. The sort that was gnawing away at her the closer she got to the counter and one of the tables in particular where all she could see was the back of a brunette males head. Of course, sheâd push the discomfort deep down as she had with many emotions and occurrences during her youth she had later come to learn was the product of her being a changeling. But that didnât mean the expression on her face hadnât betrayed her, revealing the sensation Esther felt as hazel eyes kept to the menu with her stature a little too close to the undead boy she would soon come to realize she knew.Â
Bean had gotten up early that day asking his Alexa device for the dayâs outlook even as he made his way to his wardrobe. He knew every item in there by touch, basing his outfits on what his friends had suggested for him. When he had first arrived on the island and expanded his wardrobe beyond a single suitcase he had been laughed at by the person who would become his first friend. Apparently he had teemed a bright orange shirt with purple slacks and the combination wasnât usual. Not that he had any idea what orange or purple even looked like.
He had decided to head out early and spend some time with a warm drink at the cafe before work. The staff were always helpful at Through the Looking Glass and even now at the start of winter it smelt heavily of vegetation... in a nice way. He was sat at a table cradling a mint hot chocolate with extra cream, his shot of espresso already gone, when a familiar perfume tickled his nostrils. The smell of it took him back to Ireland and he straightened, nostalgia and confusion overwhelming him. It was half the world away and on an island for the supernatural, clearly someone else had to be wearing it.











