Eliot the Spectacular, High King of Fillory (the_spectacular) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-06-17 13:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log |
Despite Eliot's cowardly, half assed efforts, Quentin has learned about his fate on the tv series. He's also learned second-hand about the alternate timeline with the mosaic. Sweet Q tries to bring it up with Eliot, Eliot is not fucking having it. Like Hillary's hacked emails, he has taken a confirm nothing approach.WARNINGS Mentions of potential/future character death, queliot tears
So despite telling her that he’d ask Margo about the rest of it (and he would, eventually), he’d felt compelled to go through the episode summaries anyway -- just to fill in any blank spots, right? Right.
Except when he finished the synopsis for one of the episodes, a weight settled on his chest that he hadn’t been expecting. Sure, he knew about the memories that this place sometimes gave people now and he hadn’t experienced that, but even reading about it...
He needed to know.
So with the pages in hand, he went from his room to Eliot’s and knocked on the closed door. Then he knocked again. Honestly, Q wasn’t even sure that Eliot was at the cottage, but this was probably the best place to check first before going downstairs. “El?” But then he had second thoughts about what he was going to ask -- could he even approach Eliot about the mosaic? Would that be fair? -- and nervously he folded the pages, trying to tuck them into his back pocket as he moved to turn and head back into his room.
Technically, he had done it to himself. It was the same trap he always put himself in: run screaming from his real feelings and vulnerability. Quentin was alive and instead of dragging him around everywhere and spending every waking moment they had together, Eliot was what? Sleeping with his sword instructor who was mostly smitten with someone else?
It was bullshit and Eliot knew it was bullshit. And yet it felt safer. Why should he have to expose his own feelings and insecurities? Why would any sane person do such a thing?
But they were both living in the cottage and the cottage was small. Once he was spotted by his fellow magician, Eliot turned on a heel with his eyes wide, lips together because as far as Eliot knew they were still not talking about Quentin’s shitty potential future which was definitely not happening.
“Hm?”
It was feigned innocence. But Eliot was prepared to shut down or walk away from Those Questions he did not want to face or answer.
He gave Eliot an awkward sort of half-wave and then nervously tucked his hair back behind his ear. “Um, hey.” They’d seen each other since his first night at the cottage, but hadn’t really sat down and had a proper conversation. Mostly they’d just seen one another in passing, or were both in the downstairs part of the cottage at the same time. Or maybe Q had just been… somewhat avoiding Eliot, in a way.
That was probably it. Why would it be anything else? Unless El was just avoiding him, but he didn’t really want to think about that.
“So, uh… I talked to Julia. About. Things.” He was shifting a little, maybe edging himself closer to his own room in case he needed to disappear for a while. “From back home.”
Eliot could feel his blood pressure rising. He tried to swallow his feelings, his adam’s apple bobbing on his throat like an SOS signal.
This was about the time Eliot should have said something biting or snarky or something to change the topic, but instead he found himself standing there completely frozen. Nothing came to mind, his mouth refused to open again. He could blink, he could barely maintain a mask of calm and collected, but any other social trick or avenue his mind would have used went completely blank.
So he just stared. Uncomfortably waiting for Quentin to continue.
Which just made his stomach drop a little.
He stared at him back for a moment, maybe a second too long, before crossing over to him and gently grabbing his wrist to pull him into his own room. That was a thing they did when there was an urgent conversation that had to happen Right That Minute and away from prying ears or eyes.
Q shut the door behind them and then let out something that almost seemed like a sigh of relief.
“So, she caught me reading up on the episodes and I know, I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I wanted to know and well, Jules was pissed about it.” Rightfully so, he assumed. “She ended up filling me in on everything she knew about, either from firsthand experience, what I ended up telling her back home, or this… memory dump thing she was talking about. Which I still don’t quite understand but,” he waved that off. “So a quest for keys, huh?”
Once they were in his room, however, Eliot returned to his frozen position.
Then Quentin spoke.
Eliot released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding that had felt like a lead ball in his chest. There were a few topics that he didn’t want to discuss. Quentin’s potential death. The mosaic. If he could just hold onto the illusion that everything was alright, then Eliot could continue to be a fucking idiot without risk of any serious consequences.
“Last I remember is that we have five of them.”
“But you’ve been told things beyond that, right?” Julia had suggested talking to Margo, so he could only assume Margo had filled Eliot in on the things that he hadn’t experienced yet. Of course, it ultimately didn’t matter because just by them all being here, they’d made yet another timeline.
Why was this shit always so confusing?
He looked at Eliot, his expression gentle, but his eyebrows creased a little in concern when he spoke next. “I know I die.” It was blunt, but his voice was hushed. “And I know you know that, too.” Did he actually know it? Technically, no, but call it a gut feeling.
“No, we don’t know that. Margo did tell me, and in her timeline you don’t die and she doesn’t bang Josh and become a werewolf. So really, anything could happen.” Eliot shrugged one of his shoulders as if he was annoyed he had to explain that to Quentin.
No, despite the other dozens of timelines they’d all experienced, including this one… well. There was no explaining that. There was no reason to. They all knew just as well as he did, even if they chose not to explore that option.
All the same -- Q frowned when he saw Eliot’s reaction, at least until it registered what he’d said. “Wait, Margo did what?” He paused. “Nevermind. I don’t… need details.” She bangs Josh and becomes a werewolf. Apparently. He sighed a little then, but kept his eyes on the other man. “I’m sorry. I just… I know Julia wasn’t able to tell me everything that happens because she doesn’t know, so I went back to reading the episodes…”
He let that linger in the air.
It sounded ridiculous, but then they’d all been to Fillory. Really by comparison, that was almost a reasonable option.
“Fen is from a timeline where she did bang Josh so she actually is a werewolf,” Eliot added. That was probably important for Quentin to know, even if he didn’t think that would happen— alternate timelines. Who could really say?
If you want to live your life, live it here.
Instead Eliot said, “Knowing how it might happen does not make me feel better or bring me any sort of comfort. If that’s what you need, fine. But as far as I’m concerned that timeline was aborted the moment we came here. This is our new timeline, and it’s the only one I’m interested in.”
“It’s not about needing to know what happens, it’s just…” They’d all experienced different things, and all of them in different futures he hadn’t gotten to yet. If he was going to get to them at all. “It’s just more about knowing what all of you guys went through before you got here.”
The FOMO was real for one Quentin Coldwater.
“Like, yes, whatever timeline I’m from back home ultimately doesn’t matter now because I’m here, but… you know. That information is right there.”
He wasn’t helping his case at all and he knew it, so he went quiet, tucking his hair back behind his ear again before reaching into his back pocket for the poorly folded pages he’d hidden there. “Did this happen for you?” he finally asked, his voice quiet as he held the pages out for Eliot.
He crossed his arms to further prove his point.
The mosaic seemed like it had been a Thing. He wasn’t sure the extent of it beyond what he read — but he knew that despite that timeline technically not existing after Margo retrieved the third key from Jane, they had still somehow remembered it. Or parts of it.
And Eliot claimed to be from a point where they had five of the keys. So if this happened in his timeline, then it would have happened already, right?
After a few seconds, Quentin dropped his arm and let his head fall back with a stifled sigh, though he didn’t say anything.
Eliot was trying his best not to lose it. Not to get angry or upset or afraid. Because he could imagine what was on those papers. Somewhere he knew. He knew and if the two of them discussed the fucking mosaic, he wasn’t going to have blown that opportunity once but twice.
“I just want to be here. I don’t want to have to worry about anything else because there’s literally not a damn thing I can do about it. I’m going out.”
Eliot turned to leave Quentin’s room. He had no idea where he might go. Somewhere.
Q lifted his hands in a defensive sort of way, as if quietly saying ‘okay, I’m sorry’ and conceding defeat. He’d obviously upset Eliot, even if he was trying to keep an even tone in his voice, and he tossed the papers off to the side away from him. “Fine, sorry.” What else was he supposed to say? He wasn’t going to force El into a conversation he obviously didn’t want to have.
While it wasn’t beneath him to be dramatic and caught up in his feelings, his expression softened and he looked back at Quentin. “I don’t want to think about the possibility that you might be gone. I don’t want to worry about you if you disappear. I want to pretend things are going to finally work out for once in our fucking lives.”
Eliot sighed.
Julia had cried and he comforted her, but there’d just been mostly indifference for him.
“Just, y’know, if I disappear then let’s hope I’m from Margo’s timeline?” That probably wasn’t helpful and he sighed too. “Sorry. I’m here though, okay? It’s like I told Julia. As long as I’m here, I’m fine.” And really, that had to be enough. “And things can hopefully work out, whatever… that means for all of us.”
It was better Quentin was here. That wasn’t in question. While Quentin was here, Eliot could keep his eyes on him, keep him safe. The only problem was Eliot could not keep Quentin in Vallo. He could not even bolt himself to the island.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
He forced a smile, and feeling he could now exit the conversation on better terms, did so.
Quentin let something of a smile pull at his lips, but he let Eliot leave, even if he didn’t want to. He felt bad for how that conversation had gone — even if it ended well enough — and made a mental note to avoid the topic of the mosaic whenever possible.
It was clearly something that didn’t sit well with Eliot and he didn’t want to stir up those sort of feelings again if he didn’t have to.
So, he was going to leave it alone.
For now.