#vnstarter

Oh it was good to be back.

Not to say that his former borrowed body wasn’t a decent substitution - the ability to have magic in his grasp again was almost cruel, but if that was as close as he was going to get to his old life then so be it. The tantalizing taste of magic was worth the traded skins, but the trade back? It had its perks too. To be able to look in the mirror and not be a child for one. As narcissistic as it sounded, he missed seeing his handsome mug looking back at him, vampire or not. Made being himself easier.

Not to mention his timely return to his body also meant the return of one Davina Claire. It like the gods were finally smiling favorably on him. And while the return of Isaac may or may not be a loose end, he’d deal with that if it became a problem. Might as well let the kid try to figure out the world of the living again in exchange for allowing him to rent his body for the last couple of months.

The adjustment back to an original became easier with each removal of the wooden stake, albeit this last bit as a werewolf/witch hybrid was a bit more unorthodox. But, he had just finished convincing a store owner to give him a couple of roses only to turn and almost run into a small brunette standing behind him.

“Ah, I am sorry love I did not see you there.”

Everything was so.....bright.

Not only bright but so  o v e r w h e l m i n g. What day was it - was it even the same year? The simple chirp of a bird or the rustle of the breeze seemed like sensory overload. After a seemingly endless amount of darkness even the simplicities of life seemed to much to handle. And speaking of life...he was alive again? He could feel, touch, see, smell, hear....hell, he could breathe again. How could he have forgotten what it was like to breathe? To feel alive.

But then there was too much. Too much - to go from nothing and then everything at once was just too much. He needed to find somewhere - someone to help him. And this is how he found himself stumbling to a familiar front door, barely keeping his feet beneath him as voices rang through his head and the lights blinded him. Help..he needed...help...

Allison: I need help.

Allison: Can't explain.

Scott stopped at the local diner by his house and picked up four burgers, fries, two shakes, and two sodas. He was on a mission to get back on Malia’s good side and the best way he could think to start the conversation was with food. Scott wasn’t stupid enough to think that food would mend everything between them, but it was the best way to get things started heading in the right direction. At least he hoped.

He pulled his mom’s car up to the house outside the Bayou and balanced all the items through the door. Normally he would knock but this was Malia and his hands were full. Scott set everything down on the table and sighed before removing his shoes. His mom was at work for the night, so he knew he had time to stay out as late as he wanted to. Scott looked around and called out for her, he wasn't sure if she was there or not.

“Hey Malia, I got us dinner.” He yelled and waited a couple moments before heading back to the kitchen. The shakes were melting from the New Orleans heat, so he shoved them in the freezer to cool off. All that was left to do was sit at the table and wait to see if Malia would join him.

After that night, that horrible night, Scott knew he needed to get help. Real help from someone who knew about brain stuff. He wasn’t just sad, he was depressed, and it may have had to do with what he had become, it went past that. Somehow, he was going to have to figure out how to deal with these changes and learn to live normally. There had to be a way he could find optimism and a silver lining in the blackness of his situation. The only person he knew with any kind of professional expertise, beyond his mom, was Cami.

However, when Scott got to Tulane university, to Cami’s office, no one was there. When he had peaked through the window all of her things were gone. Even through the darkness, which he could easily see past, he could tell that the office was bare. Had Cami moved offices? Did she stop working at Tulane? Her name wasn’t even in the directory anymore. Scott had remembered the person he talked to on the open campus day, he wondered if they were still around and knew what had happened to Cami. They had said they knew her quite well so they probably knew where her office was.

Scott made his way over to where he remembered the office had been. Once he got there though, he couldn’t tell if he was in the right place and he didn’t know what their name was. He tried to remember, he just couldn’t. Losing hope, he slid down the wall outside an office and tried to figure out what to do.

Scott didn’t know exactly why he had come to the Bayou of all places. He guessed he was hoping to talk to Hayley or Jackson, someone who might know what he was going through that had some more experience. It was hard to start the conversation, like what was he going to say? Hey, I’m a hybrid now, I tried to kill myself, but I want to try to live and do good even though I’m a monster, can you help with that? They were going to send him straight to the insane asylum, no passing go, no collecting two hundred dollars.

He couldn’t really find anyone though, not the people he was looking for at least. A couple wolves said hi to him, that was nice. Scott took a seat on a log outside of Hayley’s house and just chilled. He rubbed his hands together nervously while he thought of what he wanted to say and tried to get a grasp on what was really going on with him to begin with. Should he have just gone to Klaus? Despite what the man had done to him, there was little he could do to reverse it so shouldn’t he at least try to trust him? Is coming to Hayley the right thing? Would she want to help him? Or should he just try to do it on his own? So many questions, but he was sure that on his own wasn’t an option anymore. He was better with the help of his friends, of his pack, his family.

Yet there were somethings, particularly in the car maintenance department that she still struggled with. Which is how, the hacktivist found herself at an auto parts shop, feeling like a fish out of water . She'd spent almost thirty minutes looking for the right headlights to replace the ones that were no longer working. But which ones was she supposed to buy? Was each one different depending on the car make and model? Or was the type of headlights just universal? Confused, Charlie continued to pace up and down the aisle, reading the labels and type of bulb aloud as if trying to decipher a code.

“Halogen, Xenon, bi-Xenon, LED, LED Matrix...”

She'd also been remarkably unsuccessful at flagging down shop personnel to ask them for much needed assistance. So running out of patience she approached the nearest human being she could find.

“Hi…excuse me, sorry, but um, would you know which type of bulb one would buy if they needed to replace an existing pair of headlights that decided to suddenly give up? Asking for a friend.” She added, as if that in any way saved her from sticking out as the complete noob in a car parts shop. As said person turned to respond the familiar face immediately registered with Charlie.

“Oh! Hey, Quentin! Fancy running into you here. D-did you ever manage to track down those GPS coordinates you’d had me look up for you? Were they any help?”