A random street in view of the school, Wednesday morning

[existencemisspent]

Eliot landed on cobblestone and nearly toppled down a stairway.

He grabbed hold of a railing at the last minute, his other hand coming up to make sure his crown hadn't fallen off. Then pulled out his flask again and took a large sip. Then finally looked around.

How would Fen put it? Ah, right, Ember's tits. Apparently he was in Mont St. Michel.

"Alright, Bambi," he said, pulling himself carefully to his feet. "If I find out that you blew off saving the world for a free French vacation, I'm going to be so pissed. Mostly that you didn't take me with you." He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back — and burst into a grin. And then a wild, delighted laugh.

This world still had magic!

Here, Fandom, have a slightly tipsy High King, laughing delightedly and spinning around in the middle of the street, setting off tiny little celebratory fireworks. Look, he'd had a rough several weeks, okay?

[OPEN, HELL YEAH! Come meet the High King of Fillory!]

Comments

[jedigrammarians]

Aphra was on a mission. A high speed, high-stakes, high sugar mission.

Careening down a staircase at high-speed, Aphra reached into her J,GoB box and she as came up on Eliot flung a pie directly at his face.

Sorry, not sorry, Eliot.

[existencemisspent]

RUDE.

She was lucky that Eliot's instinctual reaction was not to fling battle magic at her. The fireworks fizzled out as the pie plate slid from his face, and he reached up with tremendous dignity to pull a handkerchief from inside his royal cloak.

"Well. This had better not stain."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Oh Eliot, Eliot, Eliot, Eliot. Your timing truly was every bit as spectacular as your kingship. Nine hours ago, Margo would have thundered across the street and taken you into her arms in relief. Tipsy, granted, but relieved and emotional and. . .

Well, expressing loud and violent homicidal feelings for a goat who was already dead.

But that was nine hours ago, when she was Margo.

“WOO!”

Not a woo girl three inches shorter than Margo, who had just found some really cool sparkly things to whoop at.

“WOOO!”

[existencemisspent]

"What," Eliot said, "the everloving fuck."

Bambi, what had they done to you?

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“WOOOOOOO?” Margo yelled, pumping her fist into the air in confusion. Why had he stopped?

[existencemisspent]

Eliot frowned at her. "Margo. My beloved. What are you on?"

Usually he was the irresponsibly stoned one!

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

That wasn’t very woo-y, Eliot. You should go back to making the sparklies!

Margo scratched absently at some iridescent scales on her upper arm, and looked at him with a vacuous lack of comprehension.

[existencemisspent]

It was, in fact, not at all woo-y.

Eliot stepped back, making a frame with his thumbs and forefingers, and peered at her through it. The scales lit up, slightly brighter than the diffuse magic through the rest of her system.

She was definitely on something. Not that he had any idea what, or what to do about it other than just try not to let her do anything too stupid until it wore off.

"Karma is a motherfucking bitch," he said with a faint sigh. "I don't suppose you set any aside to share?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo would be so pissed when this passed.

“Woooooooo?”

He seemed less upset! That deserved a woo!

[existencemisspent]

Eliot sighed again. She was still his Margo -- probably -- how many people in the multiverse looked quite like that with the eye patch and everything, even if this woman did seem to be even shorter than usual? -- and he was definitely still Eliot, and he had definitely still not seen his Margo in far too long.

"Wooooooo," he said, in dry, ironic agreement, and offered her his arm.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

She took it. He was right: she was still Margo, and she recognized him just fine. “WOOO!” she said with another, smaller fistpump, and happily dropped her head against his. . .

. . .arm.

It wasn’t fair. She was short enough when she wasn’t brain-booze-fucked up the cooter!

[existencemisspent]

Clearly she just needed taller stilettos.

Something in Eliot's chest unknotted at that lean, even as he continued to worry about just what had turned his bright, intelligent badass of a favorite person into this Jersey Shore reject.

"So. Can you say anything other than 'woo' or is that the extent of your vocabulary at the moment?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Guess they couldn’t blame Ember for every speck of bullshit anymore. More’s the pity.

Margo thought about it, or something close to thinking about it. “Woo,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. Her hand slid into her pocket, and knocked around something jangly.

[existencemisspent]

Eliot nodded with all the seriousness that deserved.

"And what's this, then?" he asked, tilting his head at the jangle. "Why don't you pull that out and show the class?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

She lifted the keys out of her pocket, eye wide with innocence. They came on a little chain with a tag, the address scribbled on in Margo’s tersest handwriting.

[existencemisspent]

"Hmm." Eliot plucked them gently from her hand and took a look. "Seems like you made yourself at home here. Have you been . . . this . . . the whole time?"

He would happily blame this on Ember or the fairies or both.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo looked up at him, frowning with her one eye. “Woooo,” she said, shaking her head.

She’d definitely woken up woo-y-er than usual this morning.

[existencemisspent]

"So this is . . . new . . . then." Eliot looked around at the buildings on either side of the street with a suspicious eye. "As far as I know, Mont St Michel isn't unusually whimsical. We're not in France, are we?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Answering that question was above and beyond the language of the Woo.

Her arm felt scratchy. Why was it so scratchy? Margo tried to scratch it with her nose.

[existencemisspent]

"What are -- tell me you don't have fleas, too."

Eliot. You can't just ask people if they have fleas.

(He'd connect it to the scales in a minute, he was distracted by trying to identify street names and building numbers so he could figure out what her keys went to.)

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Eliot sure couldn’t. Deadly honesty was Margo’s thing.

She looked up at him, brow crunching up. It took a lot of effort, but that affronted “No” was completely worth it.

[existencemisspent]

That single syllable, affront and all, was the most beautiful thing Eliot had heard in ages.

"You are in there, Bambi!"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo scowled. “Woo!”

[existencemisspent]

"You can't blame me for worrying. It's been ages. At least on Fillory's end. How long has it been here?" He held up a hand. "Don't try to answer that until the 'woo' has worn off." He shook his head, still scanning for street signs. "Let's see, Sphinx Street, Sphinx Street . . . there's Thunderbird Lane, and we're on. . . . Griffin Way. . . . Really? Who planned this town?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

That ‘no’ had taken all the fight out of Margo for at least the next hour. She let go of Eliot and ran her fingers along those itchy scales. Though there was something about that ‘Thunderbird Lane’ that felt like it was. . . totally wrong.

She grabbed El by the arm, yelled “WOO!” at the top of her voice, and dragged him in the other direction.

[existencemisspent]

Oh, that was right in his ear. Eliot shook his head and let her drag him along, even as he fumbled in his pocket for his flask again.

"I hope you're taking me somewhere with moisturizer, Bambi. Those scales are not your best look!"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Don’t test her, El, she was flying through wooville on nothing but momentum and sheer bloody-mindedness. Margo was whooping all the way to Pick Your Poison, and you’d just have to deal with it.

And oh, look. There they were.

“Woooo!”

[existencemisspent]

Eliot looked at the shop. Then across at the sex shop and . . . spa? . . . across the street.

"You really did bring me somewhere with moisturizer."

He held up the keys to look at the number, then at the shop again.

"You're living here?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Woohoo.”

Margo nodded impatiently at the door.

[existencemisspent]

“Yes, yes, let’s keep our panties on.” Eliot fumbled the keys briefly before managing to unlock the door. “Entrez-vous?”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

All the more Margolian impatience faded from her face the moment she’d achieved her goal. “Wooooo!” Margo cried, pumping both her hands into the air. She held on to that energy as she barged up the stairs into the murder apartment. It was probably the happiest she’d ever be to see those stupid plants.

[existencemisspent]

“You’d better have some good drugs in here too,” Eliot mused, trailing after her at a more reasonable pace.

And stopping dead in the doorway.

“What. The actual. Fuck.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo ignored him. She was busy opening the fridge, rummaging around for the bottles.

Oh, look. Decent champagne, worthy of a Woo Girl. “Woo!”

[existencemisspent]

Eliot broke off staring at all the plants and finally felt like answering one of her woo!s with one of his own.

"Actual champagne! Bambi, you shouldn't have."

She should have. And she knew it.

"Pour, bitch, and then we can work out how you can tell me how you ended up moving into Hoberman's dream house."