InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "nini"

Q (smallobjects) wrote in somerealityrpg,
@ 2021-05-11 21:23:00

Entry tags:

active: eliot waugh, active: quentin coldwater

Log: Quentin & Eliot
Who: Quentin Coldwater & Eliot Waugh
What: Surprise, it's an Eliot
When: Nowish
Where: Narnia; around the lamp post
Warnings: Nah

Truth be told, Narnia may have been one of the other fictional worlds that Quentin had wished was real at some point in his life. Fillory had been his first love, but there were a lot of similarities between the two. Parts of the landscape, talking animals, sentient trees, the siblings finding their way into a magic land, and don't forget the kings and queens of earth. A plus? These stories hadn't been completely ruined for him because the author was a fucking sociopath and pedophile that turned one of those siblings into a Mothman.

What Hawaii might have been to most of the Goodland residents, Narnia was to Quentin Coldwater. It was like stepping into Fillory again for the first time before he knew the truth, and before the stories were tarnished. Almost. Fillory was still, well, Fillory. Though, could he just say that Cair Paravel was really fucking cool? It wasn't Castle Whitespire, but he could imagine sitting in one of the thrones with the Great Lion before him, placing a crown on his head. Quite the difference between of their makeshift ceremony in Fillory.

Instead of the Magnificent, the Gentle, the Just, and the Valiant it was the Spectacular, the Destroyer, the Wise, and... the Moderately Socially Maladjusted. One of these was not like the other.

He spent some of his time wandering around, exploring around and feeling like a mystical tourist. He'd had tea with a pair of talking rabbits, gotten directions from a fox, and watched a group centaur galloping by through the woods. Bumbled up in a heavy coat, it was about an hour or so into his latest excursion into the snowy woods. It was the second time he'd been in this particular area, since of course he'd had to check out the lamp post day one, but this time he was looking for something else. The wardrobe - or the door that led to the wardrobe. He had no clue if it existed in this pocket version of Narnia, but it was worth a try, right?

On his handwritten map that he carried around, Quentin looked down to see he was coming up on the lamppost which had to mean the wardrobe, if it was there, couldn't be that far ahead. Stuffing the map into a coat pocket, he walked a section of trees and smiled when he saw the light coming from the post. There was the small clearing right around it, and when he looked up, Quentin saw that someone else was there too. If he entertained the thought that seeing him again was possible, Quentin would have recognized him even from behind almost instantly, but he'd long ago accepted that it wasn't likely to happen.

"Um, hi," he started, taking a step or two closer but was still several feet away. "You haven't seen something that looks like the entrance to the back of a wardrobe by chance, have you?" He looked down briefly to pick out the map again, and in those couple of seconds, the man turned around.

"I think it's supposed to be somewhere arou-" As soon as he looked up, Quentin cut himself off and froze. He didn't think his eyes were playing tricks on him, but... was this real?

"Eliot?"

(Post a new comment)

kingshit
2021-05-14 01:37 am UTC (link)

It tracked. It really fucking tracked they stopped The Harmonic Convergence, only to realize that the planet was still going to be destroyed anyway. Not only had he been dealing with the literal end of the world, but there was also that nagging voice in the back of his head that he was convinced belonged to Nameless. What else was he supposed to think? It was creepy and messing with his mental state, and just when he was about to give up? To say 'fuck it all' because he was drained and couldn't do it alone anymore? He'd discovered it hadn't been the monster in his head at all...

"Um. This isn't Fillory," came the voice again - only now? Eliot could see its owner.

Rolling his eyes as he reached out to touch the lamp post, that he was pretty sure belonged to Narnia, El didn't bother to glance Charlton's way. "How about we keep the stating-the-obvious commentary from the spectator box to a minimum?"

El was snappier than usual, his words cutting like knives through the air. He heard it, hated the tone, but physically couldn't stop himself. The exhaustion from his stint as Bill Murray in Groundhog Day hadn't been given the chance to settle in properly, but it was beginning to. He needed a nap, maybe a hundred naps. God, saving the world never got any less tiring.

"Uh, Eliot."

"For the love of Aslan!?! Unless you have something constructive to say? Leave me alone while I figure this out! Just keep hanging around, being fucking useless, but do it with your mouth sh--" It was then that he finally whipped around, and any other annoyances died on his lips before they could fill the frigid air around them.

Grip tightening around the post, El rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Maybe he was more tired than he thought? Hallucinating? That was the only explanation for him to be seeing was he was seeing only a few handfuls of feet away from him. He was dead. He couldn't be here... and yet?

"I'll take a formal apology now." Charlton said as El's eyes continued to stare in disbelief. The new wannabe Tyler Durden was leaning against the other side of the post, looking like he needed a bucket of popcorn, but Eliot didn't notice. All he saw was his friend turned love of his life turned friend again... standing in fucking Narnia of all places.

"Shut up." Pushing himself away from the post, feet like lead weights, he closed the space between them and squinted his eyes. This couldn't be real, but damn if it didn't feel real.

"Q?"

(Reply to this) (Thread)

smallobjects
2021-05-14 02:21 am UTC (link)

It wasn't like this was impossible. People showed up to Goodland all the time. They even showed up when they were away from the New York City landscape in places whether they were fictional or real. But seeing Eliot standing next to the fucking lamp post in fucking Narnia was almost too surreal and like this was some sort of otherworldly trick that would disappear as soon as the snow did and they traded talking creatures back for the ostriches.

"Eliot," he repeated again but this time without the question. He dropped his hands to his sides, the map in his hand long forgotten. He smiled a little, one of those half smiles that he did whenever he was unsure about something that might have been a something good. Because this was good, right? Eliot was here. Even if he wasn't sure if it was going to last because, face it, the good rarely ever did.

Quentin stepped forward several steps but slowed as he got closer. He'd been in Goodland for the better part of a year now, and it was even months longer than that since he'd seen the real Eliot. The Monster that had followed him around wore his face, but it wasn't him. There had been the handful of memories he'd seen that included his and Alice's time on top of that mountain in Fillory, but this was different. This was seeing him face to face.

"You're-.. God, I can't believe you're actually..." He knew Eliot had to be confused as shit right now, but in that moment Quentin didn't care. He took the step forward and pulled Eliot into a tight hug. "Fuck, Eliot, it's good to see you."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

kingshit
2021-06-14 07:50 pm UTC (link)

Eliot stiffened as soon as he was tugged into Q’s embrace. It was short-lived, but he was pretty damn certain time had slowed to a near stop. An eternity seemed to transpire around them before he finally allowed Quentin’s undeniable warmth to replace the cold that still lingered around the edges of their bubble. Fuck it.

If he’d learned anything in his quest to save the world? It was that running away, while convenient and his usual MO, only prolonged the inevitable.

Swallowing hard, he mimicked Q’s actions, his arms finally lost their heavy weights and wrapped around the other man tightly. It was a rush of familiarity that he’d forgotten existed. How had he forgotten this feeling of coming home? If he focused on it too much, he would logically come to the conclusion it was because he forced himself to forget.

It was easier that way, and totally another method of running.

For so long, he’d tried to distance himself from his feelings that revolved around Quentin Coldwater, and if it had been any other day? He may still have done so, but he was physically exhausted. More importantly? He was tired of said running. "What the fuck are you doing here, Q? How the fuck are you here?"

Despite his line of questioning, he made no moves to pull away from him. Not yet.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

smallobjects
2021-06-16 03:22 am UTC (link)

Quentin felt Eliot stiffen at the hug, so that answered the question of what point in time from home he was - after he was already dead. Julia had been the same, so it was a surprise, but maybe a small part of him had hoped that this Eliot would be from before if only for the the simple fact that he didn't want his friend to feel any guilt seeing him again. Quentin remembered the pain he'd felt in Eliot's words during his and Alice's trip to the top of the mountain in Fillory.

But either way? He was more than happy to see him in the flesh.

He knew the questions would be coming, but he couldn't help but just be there and soak in that this was happening. Quentin let out a light laugh, one inappropriate-in-the-moment laughs that he couldn't help but then took in a deep breath before letting it out with a sigh. "It's kind of a long story that isn't going to seem real at first."

Finally, Quentin took a step back and smiled up at him. "Right. So, this is Narnia, but you probably already figured that out. We're in a place that, I guess a lot of people refer to it as a pocket dimension outside of normal time and space. Not like Fillory or the Library, but it's own place outside any of the worlds we've been to or were connected through the Neitherlands. I showed up here after... well, after everything happened at home over a year and a half ago."

By the look on Eliot's face, Quentin wasn't making much sense. Not to mention the shock of seeing a dead friend again. It was a shock in itself seeing Eliot, and Q was the one who knew what was going on. More or less or as much as any of Goodland did.

"This isn't normal. Narnia, I mean. Sometimes our surroundings change, but it normally looks like Manhattan -- whatever this place's version of a god is, calls it Goodland."

He'd said a lot of words at Eliot, and Quentin just smiled at him again. "It's a lot, I know, and doesn't make much sense" he said and placed a hand on Eliot's arm. "But it's real."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

kingshit
2021-07-05 03:11 am UTC (link)

One of the things El wrestled with the most since Quentin's death was the overwhelming guilt. He never could shake the feeling that if it weren't for him? His friend would still be alive. Rationally, he knew deep down it wasn't his fault. The blame rested solely on Nameless' shoulders, but that niggling of guilt still existed all the same. It didn't exactly help that Charlton seemed keenly aware of every emotion Eliot experienced.

The Monster aside? El hadn't ever hosted such a rude houseguest before, as far as leaving well enough alone went. It was much harder to ignore things when you had someone constantly providing commentary on every topic.

He was grateful for Charlton's rare display of silence though, and even more grateful he was getting this moment at all. Quentin was alive. It didn't really matter how or that this entire situation should have been impossible. He just wanted a few minutes to bask before facing the reality that came far too soon as Q stepped back and smiled up at him.

Opening his mouth to say something, whatever it was, fell wayside, while Quentin began to ramble about Narnia and pocket dimensions. As he went on and on, El couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. God, he'd missed Q's incessant monologues. It was the little things like that, even ones that had more often than not caused a roll of his eyes, that he'd missed the most. Those daily mundane things that were taken for granted and weren't fully appreciated until they weren't there anymore.

He heard every word, soaking it all in while simultaneously trying to get over the shock of seeing him alive. The latter would probably take him some time, but Eliot always learned how to adapt. Never one to be short on words himself, this speechless state was brand-new territory for him. So, he latched onto one thing and ran with it.

"It's a fuckton, Q. Manhattan but not. Narnia but not. Somewhere not connected to the Neitherlands. And who the fuck named this place? Goodland? Really? You would wind up somewhere called Goodland."

This time when Quentin touched him, he didn't tense near as much. Instead, he breathed out a sigh of relief and covered the other man's hand with his own. "Alright, Pinocchio. It's real," pausing for just a minute as he still struggled to wrap his head around everything, he managed to smile again. "You're real... and you've really been here this whole time?"

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

smallobjects
2021-07-06 02:31 am UTC (link)

A fuckton, but still on the low side of how deep Quentin could have gone in his initial explanation of the who, what, where, and nobody in hell knows why. During his pause, he took a breath in order to keep himself from going on or saying anything else and just smiled. Impossible shit happened here, and this was proof of that. He'd almost assumed that his view into mirror land had meant he'd never see Eliot or Alice in person again. That the mirror was his version of goodbye to them as much as it was for them for him.

"Seems a little ironic considering some of the other worlds we've been, doesn't it?" He couldn't help but laugh and shook his head. "If the name Goodland isn't enough? The god or being that created this place? Calls themselves the Jubilant Entity. Big shocker: it doesn't always live up to its name."

They were all real, but it still didn't seem like it yet. Maybe once others could confirm he was here and this wasn't a trick he managed to conjure up or play on himself. "This whole time is a little more complicated than it might seem, but basically, yeah. After the Underworld, I turned up here. Well, in the Manhattan here. Not Narnia here."

Quentin stared up at Eliot for a few seconds before finally blinking away. "Sorry, it's just.. I'm here telling you this is real, but I'm having a hard time believing it myself too. Oh! Julia is here too. Her and.. well, she's been here a while."

He nearly spilled the beans about Hope, but he had no clue if Eliot knew about the baby yet. From what Julia had told him, the pregnancy had been a quick one from start to finish, but she and Eliot had figured out some of the traveler rules after being locked up in Fillory.

"Okay, El, this is probably going to sound weird, though no more weird than the rest of this has, but what's the last thing you remember from home? Time isn't the same here, and people arrive from different points. How long has it been since.. you know."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

kingshit
2021-07-07 06:58 pm UTC (link)

Eliot couldn't help but scoff at the name of the being who had created such an absurdly named place. It wasn't surprising that neither the god nor the world lived up to their names. If Fillory had taught any of them anything? Hell, if their entire lives had taught them anything? It was how to deal with disillusionment. Nothing was ever as shiny as it was on the surface - except maybe Quentin's laugh.

A part of El was convinced he'd never actually saved the world. That he somehow died in the proverbial boom, but if the dying meant being in fucking not-Narnia and seeing him again? Well, maybe he would take it. On the flip-side? He desperately needed a drink or two. Maybe twelve. "I'm far too sober to engage in a riveting conversation about the mechanics of time or whatever other fuckery is going on here. So, how about we stick with 'Q took a detour'?" Simple, basic, and a hell of a lot easier to wrap his mind around at that moment. "At least until we raid the Beaver's stash."

Because there wasn't a chance in hell, Mr. Beaver didn't have one. It would probably taste like river water, but he'd probably drink anything right now, as long as it had some sort of alcohol in it.

Then Quentin was staring up at him, and he couldn't help but reciprocate, which only led to a shake of his head once they both snapped out of it - yet he smiled all the same despite that brief instance of awkward. He was definitely too sober. "That makes two of us." His eyebrows arched at the mention of Julia, though. "Doesn't surprise me that she's here too. She has a knack for being everywhere."

He could still hear that 'I don't trust you', falling off her lips. Things between himself and Julia hadn't ever been sunshine and rainbows, but that was par for the course.

All thoughts of Julia skittered away at Q's next line of questioning. Shuffling through his pockets for the cigarettes that were thankfully on his person when he dropped into Goodland, El hastily lit up and moved to lean casually against the lamp post. Where had he even gotten these? Probably from that never ending party he'd resided himself to repeat forever. At least until the door appeared in front of him.

"A year," he finally said abruptly. "Give or take. Feels like longer after my stint as Bill Murray. Last thing I remember is saving the world. You know. Again."

(Reply to this) (Parent)