Substitute Vixen
The fox-people sit with you to explain. Bragho says, "You've taken Lenara's place. You found a costume of our species, right? Well, the costume-maker set his game up to give you a place in the world you went to. And he did that by zapping one of the people from our world, into the costume-verse."
You boggle. "Does that mean someone's wearing *my* skin?"
"Maybe -- a costume of whatever you used to be. Close enough that they might pass for you at first glance. We're not sure whether the wizard takes people only through this species-shuffle, or what." He lets this news sink in while he attacks a plate full of cornbread and sizzling meat. "When I showed up here with costume number sixty-eight, a year ago, I took the place of a stagehand at the studio. And the stagehand suddenly vanished. Now, Lenara's gone and someone almost like her has shown up."
Your food arrives and you tell yourself things are too serious, that you're not hungry -- but lunch smells and tastes amazing. Maybe it's your new nose helping. "So I'm Lenara?"
Wylan cuts in. "No, ma'am. I don't know who you are, but you're not her. A fine vix she is, wherever she's gone to."
"She'll be fine," Bragho says. "Off on her own adventure, right?"
Wylan just nods, picking at his cornbread. "Thought we should tell you how things stand."
"And how's that?" you say.
Bragho says, "You're a substitute. You're stuck here for a few weeks before you go back to trying on bodies. In the meantime, it looks like you have a house standing where Lenara's was yesterday, and we need someone with her figure on the set. There's a movie to finish."
"Show must go on," mutters Wylan.
"I don't know about all this," you say, looking back and forth between them. And your lunch. "I didn't ask to get into this world, or to kick Lenara out of it. I'm not even female." A waiter happens by while you blurt that out, and ends up giving you a long appraising look. You try to ignore it.
Bragho snorts and hides a grin. But Wylan says, "We didn't ask to have our star actress, our *friend*, suddenly hauled tail-first out of the universe and sent on a lifelong walkabout for some wizard's fun." The cold stare he gives you is one you hope never to see again, especially if he's armed.
Bragho intervenes, waving a greasy black paw between you. "It's not her fault."
Wylan says, "It's not. I just want her to know where things stand, see?"
The actor's ears droop and his tail curls between his legs. So do yours, another feeling you're not used to. You find yourself starting to reach out a hand toward his shoulder, but you pull it back. What're you doing, touching people like that? "I'm sorry," you say.
"There's a movie to finish," Wylan says. "Shouldn't take more than a couple weeks. It'd be good of you to stick around for that, before you run off to be somebody else."
The three of you eat together and get back to the studio to work. Wylan perks up the moment he's back on set. You're not sure, but Bragho and the other stagehands assault you with new lines to learn. From what you gather, the movie's about a gang stealing cattle-like animals from Wylan's ranch and him going out to kick some tail with a crossbow.
Oh, and he's your husband. Not real-life, someone hastens to tell you, so that your heart can start beating again. It's just that viewers love seeing you -- uh, Lenara -- and Wylan together. You've got "chemistry". It doesn't feel that way to you, though. Wylan looks sad and angry beyond what having his cattle stolen would justify. But you get through a few scenes where he's telling you everything will be okay.
You leave the studio at sunset, go to your new house, and lean back against the door once you're inside. On closer inspection the place looks blank. No art on the walls, no family photos or junk lying around on the furniture, nothing in the kitchen, a few never-worn outfits in the closet. There's an envelope of what you assume is money on the kitchen counter. Everything's set up for you to do as you please, replacing Lenara or not.
For a little while you sit blankly on the couch, with endless possibilities in this world and no idea what to do with them. And then there's a knock on the door. "Who is it?" you say.
Written by Snow on 16 May 2010
