death valley [ATTICUS] ●

[Bastion Lewis]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch. The raven-haired male pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited in line. Perhaps coming to the mall hadn’t been the best idea when he had such a pounding headache, but he and Atty had been planning to meet here for a couple of days now, and he didn’t want to cancel. Between Atty working and him going to school, they didn’t really get to see each other every day like they used to. He could have easily stayed at home while going to school, but he had been ready to sort of spread his wings – so to speak – and get out of the house a bit. Therefore, he’d set up in one of the dorms in Barclay University. He’d been planning on going out of state for college, but that plan was shot to hell now, wasn’t it? The white raven that had perched on his shoulder gave a very loud caw that almost sounded like a laugh. When it first appeared, he used to jump every time that happened, and then it would continue that cawing laughter for hours sometimes. Now, he simply didn’t give it the pleasure of such a thing. Even still, he looked at it sideways out of the corner of his eye. Stupid thing. Always following him around. He’d tried to hit it with a book once, but failed miserably and was only rewarded with its awful “laughter” once again. Once he finally reached the head of the line, he ordered two coffees. A vanilla latte for himself, and whatever Atticus’s favorite was for him. He took the drinks to a table not far off and sat down, sending his brother a quick text to let him know where he was and stuff like that. we should quit, but we love it too much.

[Atticus Lewis]

A small grumble sat upon Atticus Lewis’s lips as he fumbled with a pack of gum only to shove six pieces of flaming cinnamon in his mouth when he finally got it open. It had been but a few days since his most recent attempt to quit smoking, and already he was at the end of his mental rope. He needed nicotine more than he needed caffeine, and not having it was making him far more irritable than usual. Gum was supposedly supposed to help such things, but nothing but a good ol’ cigar would curb his mood or so he was beginning to believe. More grumbling ensued but was muffled by the sounds of mall patrons as Atticus drew up into the mesh of stores and restaurants.

On better days, Atticus might have enjoyed going to the mall and catching the glances of goers, and he reminded himself of this fact repeatedly as he strolled through the familiar area both hands inserted into his pockets after their deed was done. Briefly here and there he’d stop in to stare at windows with interesting displays, but it was when his phone vibrated in his pocket that Atticus drew back to the reason he was there: Bastion. Since his younger brother had entered school and since Atticus himself had started working, there had been little time to sit down and enjoy some time with his kid brother, and thus they’d had to plan quite a bit to even get this time to themselves. Glancing down at the text message, Atticus smirked briefly before inserting the phone into his pocket once more and walking more quickly through the crowds of people to the correct coffee shop.

Shuffling passed a hoard of women out front of said shop, Atticus allowed his gaze to flash around the area before finally settling on Bast thereafter. There was no hesitation as he drew over and readily flopped into the chair opposite his brother though rather than pick up the drink that he could guess was for him right then and there, Atticus set his elbow on the table and flashed a smirk at Bastion. “We meet again Prince of Cats,” he snorted dryly thereafter resting his cheek on his hand.

[Bastion Lewis]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch. His long fingers curled around the styrofoam cup that held his coffee. He could feel the warmth from it seeping into his skin, and knew it was still far too hot to drink. The weight of the raven on his shoulder was easy enough to ignore, though he continually rolled it almost absently. He hated that raven more than anything, but he did rather adore the power that had seemed to come along with it. While he waited for Atticus to show up, he fished his phone out of his pocket and used it to check the forums of one of his online classes. So far no one else had posted even though the discussion was due at midnight. He frowned heavily at his phone, locking the screen and placing it off to side as Atticus entered the coffee shop. As the elder of the two sat down at the table and greeted him, he snorted and grinned. “If I’m a prince, doesn’t that mean you should bow to me and ask my permission to bask in my presence?” He asked easily, smirking at the older male. Of course, he understood where the phrase came from. One of his many nicknames that had been bestowed on him by the other. ‘Bastet’. It had actually always been one of his favorites, but he kept that much to himself anyway. He leaned back slightly, his eyes leaving his brother for a moment as the bird on his shoulder ruffled its feathers. Usually it left him alone when he was in public like this, but it didn’t really keep up much of a routine most of the time anyway. we should quit, but we love it too much.

[Atticus Lewis]

A small snort escaped from Atticus at the question that was returned to him before a headshake was given. “Nah cause ya see as eldest brother, I’m king of everything else,” he replied with a sharp nod and the briefest look of seriousness. “And eventually maybe I’ll vest some royal things to the kiddo when she gets older.” He noted very briefly before snorting and allowing a softer laugh to escape from him thereafter. Atticus as king of anything was probably the worst idea that anyone could come up with, he was sure. If ever offered some obscure crown in an alternate life, the eldest brother would be very quick to refuse it to say the very least.

Despite being shaded by their familiar sun glasses, a pair of purple eyes would reflect the bird at Bastion’s shoulder for a moment before swishing sideways to meet Bast’s gaze again. “Your friend looks like he wants some coffee,” Atticus commented dryly before fishing up the cup nearest to him, thankfully the one that was for him, and took a sip. Heh, it was perfect; Bast never ceased to impress. “Mr. Edger Allen Poe,” he noted briefly at the raven before smirking at himself.

[Bastion Lewis]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch. A snort that almost mirrored the Atticus’s own would be given at his response. “Pfft, I feel sorry for any kingdom that you rule.” He said, sticking his tongue out and narrowing his eyes playfully. Honestly, he figured Atticus would be as good a king as any. It wasn’t really like kings did well most of the time. As long as he elder brother didn’t behead like twelve of his wives for not giving him a son, he’d be fine. As their younger sister was mentioned, a warmer smile played across his features. “Just get ‘er a pony and a fancy dress and she’ll be pleased as punch.” He said, finally picking up his coffee and taking a small sip of it. He gave a sideways glance to the raven as it was mentioned. “My friend can go to hell.” He muttered mutinously, finally raising his hand to swat the thing away. Its beak gave an audible click as it snapped at him, though thankfully it missed his fingers, and even better still it spread its wings and took off toward the door of the establishment. “I’m afraid I simply can’t be compared to a literary genius who had a thing for his younger cousin.” He said with a smirk. we should quit, but we love it too much.

[Atticus Lewis]

A dry smirk graced Atticus’s features at the return gesture and the pity directed towards his imaginary kingdom. “I’d rule with an iron fist,” was the simple reply as Atticus raised a hand briefly in a gesture as though to prove his point. And probably start up a nasty rebellion in the process he mentally continued thereafter. Though it was far from his main subject of interest, the elder brother had had enough history classes to see how kings had ended up. Dead. The bloodiest of blood baths was certainly the French Revolution, but it was far from the only one. Though he rarely cared what people thought, Atticus still didn’t want to die only to be remembered as a good for nothing tyrant whose blood was shed across the streets by the abused lower class. Nah, if he took over, he’d do something far grander than that hah.

Atticus didn’t miss the small transition of Bastion’s features when their sister was mentioned, and for a brief moment, a smirk came and went from his features in recourse. Just get her a pony and a fancy dress? Heh. “Prolly,” he agreed with a wry expression. She was easy to please – for now anyways. Small children, go figure. Thereafter, Atticus would make note of the bird at Bastion’s shoulder though the reply he would receive in both words and gestures would earn a sharper laugh than necessary. As the bird took off, Atticus’s attention on it would fade. He hadn’t come there for a bird after all.

An eyebrow would raise as Bastion assured him he couldn’t be compared with the man in question, the reasoning why earning a small smirk thereafter. “Nah, you’re just the literary genius with a thing for his brother,” he stated in such a harshly sarcastic tone that one could only vaguely misinterpret Atticus’s actual meaning. Taking another sip of his coffee, Atticus smirked again to himself.

[Bastion Lewis]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch. A soft snort would be given in response to his brother’s words. “Yeah, that always ends well.” He murmured, his tone dry and sarcastic. He was currently enrolled in a history class that covered the middle ages, which he found perfectly fascinating. He had always been more interested in history, and to a lesser extent mythology, but he was hesitant to major in either. He wasn’t really sure if he wanted to be a teacher after all. All those little brats. He could handle their younger sister because she was just one brat, and he loved her. But maybe being a high school teacher wouldn’t be all that bad… He was distracted from his musings; however, as Atticus’s harshly sarcastic tone hit the air. It was quite lucky that Bastion hadn’t been sipping on his coffee at that precise moment, because if he had been, he probably would have choked on it. As it was, however, he simply coughed a few times and then broke out into a bit of laughter. “Oh, yeah.” He responded, rolling his eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion. “I’ve only been eyeing you for eighteen years now. I’m surprised it took you so long to catch on.” His tone was pretty much equally sarcastic as he took another sip of his coffee. we should quit, but we love it too much.

[Atticus Lewis]

A cheesier grin would flash across Atticus’s face at his younger brother’s sarcasm. Had he been sitting up fully to begin with, he might have given a simple full shrug in response. Instead, a half shoulder one would suffice for the way in which he was choosing to lean on the table. Their conversation would continue easily enough, Atticus being as he always was – whatever that exactly entailed. The round of coughs that his words would elicit earned a dry bemused smirk followed by a series of short chuckles that would heighten at the laughter that came thereafter. They were dismissed quickly, however, at the sarcastic comments that were returned to him.

“Guess I’m not as perceptive as I thought I was,” he sneered briefly before taking a sip of his coffee. “It can’t be helped,” were the continuing comments before Atticus thrust a dramatic hand to his chest. “Little brother! You have the most special place in my heart!” he proclaimed rather believably to those that didn’t know him better. “Riiiiiiiiight up next to caffeine and tobacco,” he finished shortly thereafter before leaning in a few inches from Bast’s face. “But I’m still tripping you first in the zombie apocalypse. Can’t be dying first, ya know. No hard feelings, right?” Atticus smirked coyly and rather bemused- even if the subject of zombies wasn't particularly appealing at the moment what with crime scenes with no bodies and things.

[Bastion Lewis]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch. He snickered and rolled his eyes at his elder brother. Atticus had always known how to play along rather well and this occasion certainly wasn’t an exception. He glanced around as the proclamation was given, sneering slightly. “I’m hurt!” He exclaimed, poking his lower lip out in the manner that he used to when he was younger. The pout was very convincing, with his golden eyes widened slightly. Hell, his lip was even quivering a bit. “I can’t believe you would write me off so easily.” He huffed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would haunt the hell out of you, just by the way.” He went on to say, dropping his act easily. He sipped at his coffee, grinning a bit. “Like every time you tried to sleep I would totally drop a really heavy book right on your head.” He snickered lightly, taking a couple more gulps of his coffee now that it had cooled down. As a child, he’d never had much of a taste for the stuff, but now he relied on it very heavily if only to keep him awake long enough to finish an essay, or to study sufficiently for a test. we should quit, but we love it too much.

[Atticus Lewis]

There might have been some quick to repent when hearing such words, but Atticus was not one of those people. Instead, a dry smirk graced his lips before evolving into a soft chuckle at the proclamation that he would be haunted thereafter. The example that followed suit earned a soft eye roll thereafter. Of course Bast would go for a book, but rather than bring that up, Atticus switched gears mildly. “No, you can’t haunt the hell out of Satan; you’ll have to find a human to haunt,” he snorted briefly. “Or maybe a pretty girl.” He snorted thereafter, a dry sort of amusement at the last of his own statements. In truth, Atticus enjoyed that kind of meaningless banter. It allowed him to express himself in entirety, the dry nature and so much more. Few liked him for it, however. Even some of his former friends found him too dry and harsh to bear on some subjects, but Atticus was not one to change. He was content.

[Bastion Lewis]

His mouth opened slightly in the very same moment that his golden eyes narrowed. “Your narcissism is worse than I thought.” He said, his voice taking on a grave tone as if he had just given Atticus some sort of terrible news. “I’m afraid there is no cure.” He went on to say, shaking his head with a mock sadness on his face. However, as his brother went on to tell him he could find a pretty girl to haunt, he chuckled, swallowing a bit as a small tint of redness appeared on his cheeks. “Nah, she probably wouldn’t be very much fun. Wouldn’t fight back or anything.” He said, shaking his head slightly. Really, he would much rather find a cute guy to haunt or whatever if they were going out on that vein, but he kept that to himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Atticus or anything like that, it was just something he’d recently found out, really. Or accepted, more like.

[Atticus Lewis]

A snort broke from Atticus before full-fledged laughter rocked his shoulders. No cure for narcissism? “Well it looks like you’ll have to finalize your major then,” he stated resting an elbow on the table and then his cheek in his hand. “Find the cure and then ya can work on a cure for cancer or something,” he noted a bit more apathetically towards the latter portion of his statement. It wasn’t that he wasn’t somewhat hopeful such a thing actually existed. They had made such amazing progress as a civilization. However, it was a nasty disease, and no two cancers were ever exactly alike, the damn special snowflakes. There was always going to be something ahead of them in that regard, or so he felt, anyways.

The redness that had colored Bastion’s cheeks was not missed by Atticus. “Oh so ya like it rough,” he jived back sneering a bit at his own remark. It wasn’t like he expected to get that far into Bastion’s intimate life, but Atticus could joke as far as the day was long and be perfectly fine. “Anyways,” he digressed a little with a small shrug and a sip of coffee. “You doin’ ok in school? No problems that I need to beat out yet?” he asked with a small smirk thereafter. Though he had left a good deal of his fighting behind him, Atticus was still strong, was still capable, was still ready to tear into anyone and anything. It was who he was as a sibling, and this was probably the most terrifying part about him if one didn’t count that h worked with the dead all day.

[Bastion Lewis]

A snort passed forth from his nose at his brother’s words. “I think a lobotomy might do pretty well, honestly.” He joked, rolling his eyes. Though really they were known to change personality, so it could be considered a cure… kind of. They had been passed out like candy not too very long ago, in the grand scheme of things. Or at least that’s what his psychology professor made it seem like. He hadn’t put a lot of research into it, but maybe he would for his final paper or something… huh… that might be pretty interesting actually.

He was torn from his thoughts about school at his older brother’s next statement. A louder laugh found its way out of his mouth as he rolled his eyes once again. "It's just boring otherwise." He stated, feigning seriousness for all of half a second. Honestly, though, the raven-haired male wasn’t quite sure what he liked as far as those kind of things went yet. He grinned and shook his head. “Nahh, everyone’s pretty nice I guess. I don’t waste my time with most of them. Never been much for big groups of people.” Of course, Atticus already knew these things. “How are things with the examiner?” He questioned.

[Atticus Lewis]

A sneer grasped Atticus’s features as Bastion suggested a lobotomy. Such ancient practices could only be referenced by the historically literate or the medically sadistic, and considering Bastion was the prior, Atticus supposed he was the latter- not hah. “Maybe,” he grinned before giving a small shrug of shoulders.

As the conversation shifted a little, Bastion’s laugh earned a softer snort and a wider grin on Atticus’s features. “Boring?” was the questioning echo that Atticus didn’t expect to be commented on further. “You do what you do then,” he smirked softer, and a brief hand gesture was made as if to say ‘go ahead’. At the end of it all, he wasn’t one to snoop around in his siblings’ lives. As long as Bast wasn’t suffering, Atticus would let his younger brother be. That went for their sister as well, of course, but she was still but a little girl herself. He doubted he’d have to worry about those kinds of things any time soon. If he did- well someone was going to bleed, that was all there was to it.

The assurance that Bast was doing fine in school even if he wasn’t the most social earned an understanding nod. “Good,” he commented simply and left it like that. If Bast was having trouble, Atty was open enough that he was sure his younger brother would bring it to him anyways. As the question was returned to him, Atticus took a sip of his coffee before giving a simple shrug of shoulders. “Been kinda boring since we can’t get our hands on a full body anymore,” he sighed dryly rolling his eyes. “You been keeping up with the news about ‘bodiless crime scenes’? We’ve either got a body thief or a zombie pandemic.” Very briefly, Atticus’s hands raised in what was supposed to be a ‘zombie’ gesture before a loud groaned “BRAIIIIIIIIIINSSSSSSSSSS” rolled of his tongue. All too quickly, the act was dropped with a simple shrug of shoulders. “One of the crime scene guys is hot though so ‘snot all bad.”

[Bastion Lewis]

A bit of a softer smirk presented itself upon his features at his brother’s response, his golden eyes following the hand gesture as it was made. He was glad that Atticus didn’t snoop into his personal life, because honestly he didn’t want him to. Bastion was more than willing to ask his elder brother for help when he needed it, but he had always been someone who liked to figure things out for themselves and learn firsthand. That extended to every reach of his life. Really, he just needed Atticus to be there when he inevitably fucked up. And the dark-haired male had never let him down yet as far as that was concerned.

His interest peaked a little more when Atticus went on to explain what was happening with the bodies. He’d seen a bit of it on news sites, but mostly he was so busy with school that he wasn’t paying a lot attention. That was interesting though. So many variables. What could be going on? Obviously this area wasn’t exactly normal anymore, but still. If death wasn’t permanent, what was? How did these beings have the power to do that? There were more simple questions, ones that perhaps Atticus could answer that ushered forward in a tumble from his lips. “Is it, like, every dead body? Or just people who expired after a certain date? Are there people coming to life in their graves, suffocating, dying, and then coming back to life all over again?” Of course, all of this was assuming they were coming back in the first place, which was what it sounded like to him. A body thief couldn’t get ahold of every body.

Still, that jibe about zombies had him chuckling, though the chuckle would turn into more of a choke at Atticus’s next words. “Huh?” He blinked. “What’s he look like?” He moved on to the important question.

--

Atticus Lewis