who: Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater & cameo appearance from Rupert Coldwater (NPC) when: August 30th, after this where: The Physical Cottage & the Mosaic What: Eliot let's Quentin see some of his memories of their previous life. warnings: None status: Complete.
Eliot leaned forward, his fingertips pressed together above the idle, before directing them upwards in a fluid motion. The candles in the center of the idle came to light and he shifted now, leaning backwards to rest his hands upon his knees. He glanced across from him now to Quentin. This setup, and this position, was something he had done nightly for weeks now with Kylo; even though this had all begun out of a desire to share a happy moment with his former life partner. He had wanted to grant a kindness. That desire hadn't gone away but the necessity of backing up his own memories had taken hold and delayed this.
He had set everything up in Quentin's bedroom quietly and now he was truly looking at the other man across from him. He didn't quite know how this would go for either of them. It might make the heartache worse for either of then, because after all, Quentin wasn't the only one who missed their child. He pulled in a breath. "I have a few moments I could share. If...it ever gets to be too much, just pull back. It will bring you out of my mind completely," he explained before clearing his throat. He extended his hand, palm upward, for Quentin to take.
There were a lot of things that had been difficult for Quentin, but he was working on that. It was just something that he needed to deal with on his own a little, but he knew Napoleon was there if he needed somewhere to go. But right now, he was anxious about the memories. Memories of their son he didn’t have. It was possible this would make missing Rupert worse, but he wanted to see him, wanted to know him all over again and it was like a small obsession he couldn’t get away from.
He nodded at Eliot’s words. “I’ll be fine.” All of this would be backed up eventually and he’d still have it there in his mind. He let out a slow breath before taking Eliot’s hand. He wasn’t sure what he was going to see, but he was sure that he trusted Eliot and sure that he wanted to see whatever was there.
Eliot didn't say anything more. He just gave a nod of his head. For a moment, his eyes flickered down to look upon their hands, but he didn't linger. He simply allowed for a moment of personal reflection, thinking of how different their lives were to the memory they were about to embark on, but it didn't last. Soon enough, he was speaking the enchantment, and it was like falling back into a dream.
Eliot sat in the middle of the mosaic. The sun was already beginning to set and the skyline of Fillory behind him was a beautiful mix of oranges and pinks. By his side sat a lantern and across from him was the small form of Rupert Coldwater, by the looks of things being only two or three at most. Eliot waved his hands in a simple gesture and four of the tiles rose into the air.
"Go on, Rupe," Eliot said with an encouraging voice. Their son shifted, hands resting on the tiles that had already been laid down, using them to push himself up to a standing position. He wobbled forward and then proceeded to tap each tile that levitated in front of them. 'Own, ta-wo, free, fa-or…'
"Now how many?" Eliot asked, as two more were added. There was a hesitation before Rupert hit the next two, with more excitement in his tone, 'Fa-ive! Six!' Though it couldn't be seen, it wasn't hard to imagine the look of pride coming from Eliot. "Attaboy."
Then more tiles lifted into the air and before they had formed anything of a shape, Rupert was clapping. 'El-a-fint! El-a-fint!' A hearty laugh erupted, clearly belonging to Eliot, before the tiles came together in the air to form a very block looking elephant in the air.
Quentin felt the shift around him and the change in scenery. This wasn’t something he remembered, but the background was familiar enough. He smiled as he looked at Rupert, seeing through Eliot’s eyes. It made the ache a little stronger, but Quentin wasn’t sorry for it. This was what he’d agreed to, so the pain was just a part of it and he accepted that.
He wished that he could reach out to touch his son, but that wasn’t part of the adventure. It wasn’t a physical thing, just simply a memory of something that happened a very long time ago. At least it felt like a very long time. He wished he could have been there for this moment, but he knew that he couldn’t be there for every moment.
"I can show you more, Q," came Eliot's voice, overlaid atop of the scene, all the while as the memory played. The tiles were being rearranged in front of Rupert, forming simple shapes now, and the voices of memory were more subdued because of the present Eliot's question. It was faint but it sounded as though Eliot were asking Rupert to name the shapes, as there was a sudden declaration of 'triangle!'
The option was there and, as he watched on, he could feel himself wanting to see more. He’d always want to see more. “I know you can,” he said, but his voice was quiet. He smiled a little at triangle. He didn’t want to get stuck in the past, but he missed his son and it was one of the things that seemed to override everything else. He felt himself sigh. “Just one more. Then we can come back.”
Eliot of the present gave a gentle squeeze of support to Quentin's hand, nodding to himself, even though the other wouldn't see him do so. The memory they were currently wrapped in dissolved, with the faint sound of laughter lingering even once everything had gone temporarily black, as though that was a sound ever present when Eliot thought of their child.
But choosing another memory to share was harder to do. The first memory was selected for it's relative simplicity. He wanted a mundane moment that wasn't weighed down by context or emotion. Just their child and a fresh new glimpse at him that Quentin had been unable to share when it was taking place.
The blackness went away and the scene of the Cottage was once again laid out, with an always unsolved mosaic at the front door. Rupert was nowhere to be seen but the memory was zooming in on the door, with the sound of feet pressing against the ground, giving a clear indication that Eliot was walking towards their small home. He wasn't far from the door now when it was thrown open and Rupert was moving toward him, with a line in hand that had a fish attached to it. Rupert was eight.
'Look how big it is!' Rupert declared, pride in his voice, beaming upwards at Eliot. There was a low whistle from Eliot before he reached out to take the line that was being held out to him, holding it up, "You caught that all by yourself?" Rupert gave an exuberant nod.
'With Dad, but this one is mine!' Eliot's gaze shifted, looking towards the cottage, just in time to spot Quentin glance out from the doorway. There was a smile and a wave in greeting before the man went back to whatever it was he was doing inside. Eliot glanced back down to Rupert, lowering the line. He reached out and rested his free hand against his shoulder, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of the boy's hair. "We're going to have a hell of a feast tonight."
And Rupert's smile burst into a toothy grin of reaffirmed pride from that. Eliot swung an arm down, wrapping it around his shoulders, steering them towards the house. "Let's go help Dad."
Quentin remembered that day. He remembered how excited Rupert had been, how happy. He remembered how frustrating fishing was. It was at least less messy than hunting had been. He’d really not liked that part. But all of that was a mental knowledge and he wasn’t certain he could do any of that still. It had taken time to learn as it was. But seeing it from Eliot’s point of view made it new.
He could feel himself wanting more, but he didn’t want to get stuck. If he wanted more later, maybe then he could ask. “Thank you, Eliot.” He drew back after that, letting himself come back to the present. He leaned back only to lean forward again a few moments later. “It’s hard to see it sometimes because as much as I want to see him, it’s hard. I wish I didn’t have to go back to memories for it.”
Eliot had allowed himself one final moment of focus, as the memory shifted to Rupert running toward his father, and Eliot lingered on the memory of the two of them. It wasn't far from his thoughts on any given day and people would be wrong to think otherwise, even if he rarely spoke about it.
He drew in a breath when they were back to the bedroom of the cottage. His hand still clutched Quentin's but it was released, with Eliot's hand slowly retracted to drop into his lap, and he tilted his head to look at Quentin now. He gave a nod. "I know," he said quietly, but he also knew Rupert had lived his life. He had been given decades of happiness. He didn't think he wanted to rob him of all the good that laid ahead for him just to have him here.
That wasn't to say he wouldn't drop to his knees and hug the boy close if he ever did show.
"If you ever need to see him again, outside your own memories, I've still got decades to pull from," he offered, with the smallest smile of encouragement.
Quentin slowly pulled his legs to his chest. It gave him a little bit of security, made him feel more at ease. He doubted that the habit would ever die. He looked at Eliot quietly, just studying his face as if it wasn’t seared into his mind with every little detail. “I’ll let you know if I need to see him again,” he said after a moment.
“If you want to see any of mine, too, I’m happy to share, too.” Because he could see the parts of Eliot he tried to hide. It was a lifetime’s work in the making, but he was fairly good at noticing things. It had been for him, but maybe it had been for Eliot a little, too. “Like the rest of the fishing day.”
Eliot gave a nod and watched the reaction. He was far too used to Quentin wrapping his arms around himself. There was a flicker of wanting to shift and wrap his arm around him, as he would have done well before the mosaic and Fillory, but he knew that might not be the kindest thing to do anymore.
He took in a breath before nodding in agreement. "I would like that. Maybe not tonight though," he stated before reaching out, snuffing the candles with a hand gesture, before he leaned back on the palms of his hand. "And I'd love to see the fishing trip. Lord knows how long it took us to get any good at that, magic or not."