Eliot Waugh (
existencemisspent) wrote in
fandomtownies2021-12-06 01:07 pm
Entry tags:
The Magic Box, Monday
Eliot was eyeing the horses suspiciously, even as he tried to research how to feed Jon without his weird evil eye thing getting attached to whoever was doing the feeding.
The horses were very distracting. They looked way too much like the ones that pulled the royal carriage back in Fillory.
"You know," he said finally, setting the book on psychic phenomena aside. "At least the Fillorian Kings' horses were entertaining. Rude and weirdly literal, but entertaining. You couldn't try cursing me out or anything?"
The tiny horses gathered on the floor around where he sat neighed petulantly at him.
"Well that's not helpful. I have no idea what 'neeeeiiiiigh' even means."
[open!]
The horses were very distracting. They looked way too much like the ones that pulled the royal carriage back in Fillory.
"You know," he said finally, setting the book on psychic phenomena aside. "At least the Fillorian Kings' horses were entertaining. Rude and weirdly literal, but entertaining. You couldn't try cursing me out or anything?"
The tiny horses gathered on the floor around where he sat neighed petulantly at him.
"Well that's not helpful. I have no idea what 'neeeeiiiiigh' even means."
[open!]

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"Well. Good to see someone's prepared, at least. It'd be nice if we had a list of what to expect each day. 'December 7th: Seven swans a-swimming'."
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"So it's practically useless," Eliot said. He was in a bit of a mood, mostly out of frustration. "Might as well just shut."
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He fidgeted awkwardly for a moment. "Eliot, about this...whatever it is that you want to do to help..."
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"Hmm?" Eliot said, still eyeing the horses distractedly.
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"That it would be risking your mind. It's...it's really not a good idea." She may have also threatened him with a mace and an axe, but that probably wasn't serious.
Maybe.
It was Margo.
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"Ah. Well, she mentioned it when we talked about it." Eliot shook his head. "Can you guarantee that if we don't find you a way to eat you won't go on the world's creepiest binge-fest on the rest of the town?"
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"Where you'll continue to get more and more ravenous and feral until inevitably something happens that lets you out and you eat everyone in sight," Eliot said. "No thanks."
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More desperate, probably, but it wasn't like he could tear a door off the hinges.
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"Yes, and the very minute that we assume that you'll just waste away, the island will do something like do away with doors for a day."
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"There is," Eliot agreed. He held up a book on psychic magic. "I'm already working on it."
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"Margo is not my mother," Eliot said. "Believe it or not, Jon, I'm not actually in a rush to have you invading my nightmares again. Or to relive any of the shit I've already survived. And sexual innuendo aside, I've never been in a rush to fall on anyone's sword. But you have a problem and I'm pretty sure I can -- well, not fix it, per se, but alleviate it a little, so if I promise to be extra specially careful, would you please just let me do it?"
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