Undead, Unseeing

@blindxbean​!

Something felt…off the very moment Esther had stepped foot out of the car. She couldn’t 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 someone’s grasp and a hat off the top of a balding man’s head. 

Yet, even inside among the quaint nature of the cafe, Esther still couldn’t 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, she’d 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 didn’t mean the expression on her face hadn’t 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. 

Bean had gotten up early that day asking his Alexa device for the day’s 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 wasn’t 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.

“Stupid little rabbit,” Farren murmured to herself as she wandered down the street with blue eyes glued to the ground. Again, it happened again. Daphne the English Spot had slipped out of her grasp and hopped off to who knows where. All the witch knew was that if she returned home with Daphne missing her uncle would go on a speech about responsibility or the lack thereof responsibility Farren seemed to have with all things important in life.  What only seemed to make matters worse, the cherry on top if you will, was that she was late for training and hadn’t even bothered to glance up to notice how close in proximity she was to another due to her frantic and time constricted search efforts until… “oof!” 

Farren felt the pressure on her lower leg as the other stumbled over her. “Me?” The redhead proclaimed as she took a moment to gather herself. “Maybe you should wa—….Maybe it wasn’t my fault.” If only he could see the evident impatient nature the female held as she stood there. Did she want to make sure the other was alright? Well, yes, to an extent but did she feel more obligated to? Absolutely, especially since a few onlookers began to judge the witch for her lack of empathy towards the other. “You’re okay, right?” She always did hate the judgment. 

Bean managed to right himself, clasping his cane firmly and as he heard the other speak he expected it.  As she changed verbal direction mid sentence he tried to keep his lips from twitching as he faced the direction of the voice.  It was surprisingly hard to keep it straight and he idly wondered if he appeared like he was trying to pass a bowel movement.  “Uh huh...” 

He shifted from one foot to another and finally caved, offering her a smile.  “I’m fine lass,” he started, tilting his head slightly.  She sounded young, but he had learnt over the last few years that that meant nothing, she could be a thousand year old vampire for all he knew.  Still, it was a pleasant enough voice.  “So if it weren’t ye fault, whose fault is it?” he asked, his voice light and not at all accusatory.  Perhaps there was a story to be found here.

He had walked it enough over the years that his cane was only a guide, he knew each bend and turn and where they all met up in centre.  Of course for all the constants there was the unpredictable and other people were usually it.  Bean’s cane didn’t catch the foot but his own limb did and he found himself stumbling.  “What the fook, cannae ye see I’m walking here?”