If the walls were too thin, you would break right in [closed]

[eliotwaugh]

He doesn't remember how he got here, but here he undeniably is, sunlight all dappled across the mossy forest floor. Eliot looks around. What was he doing? There is a vague sense of unease despite the summer afternoon, and if Eliot could only remember where he was before this he might know what he was trying--he was trying to get away from something? That much seems clear to him, but what?

He takes a breath to steady his nerves. Of course he feels uneasy, he was probably brought here for something, and Ember and Umber are probably going to be lofty and cryptic and dire about it, and whatever paltry thing was on his mind before he came will just have to wait. It's not important now, he has a mission to get on with.

Because Eliot knows where he is, of course, the picturesque quality of his surroundings gives it away immediately, the colors all hyperpigmented and pristine. Like England, but moreso: he's in Fillory, and people don't get brought to Fillory unless there's something important to be done. He remembers that from childhood and reading battered copies of the books that had been thumbed through by countless children before him. Ugh, maybe that's where he was before here, stuck in the bleak church basement where his parents left him every week to try to force him to care about Jesus. He doesn't want to go back there. He doesn't want to go back there ever again.

Eliot needs to find out what his quest is, why the rams brought him here. Maybe if he does a very good job in helping to save Fillory from whatever danger is going to befall it, they'll let him stay.

He starts to walk though the woods, in search of a path or some landmark he'll remember from the books. It's slower going than he'd expected, though, because he keeps tripping over roots and leaves like he can't move correctly. Or maybe he's younger, somehow? Time works differently in Fillory, maybe he's a child again. But Eliot looks down at his hands, and picks up a leaf (perfect and gold and amber, and for all he knows maybe it is made of precious stone, stranger things happen here) and it looks like a normal size for a leaf against his palm.

A rustling sound startles him, and he turns sharply, his heart racing. The leaf he was holding drifts to the ground as slowly as if the air were made of oil. Eliot wishes he had a sword or something. This is Fillory, he should have a damn sword.

"Who's there?" he calls, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Comments

[johnny_truant]

He's dreaming, but it's not his own. It's too pleasant for that. Nice fairytale forest, everything soft and quiet and pretty, it doesn't seem like something Zagreus would cook up, so he feels relatively at ease.

He's making his way through the brush, just exploring easily, when he's startled by another voice - only for a moment, though, he recognizes it, and he's relieved. Seeing Eliot will be nice. He needs a break from Gabriel right now, for reasons he's not dwelling on.

He stumbles out into the clearing, his hands raised. "It's just me," he says with a smile. "Hi."

[eliotwaugh]

Well there's a face he didn't expect to see. Eliot sighs in relief and smiles.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" He doesn't know if Johnny's ever read the Fillory series, so being suddenly transported to a magical fantasy realm might be a bit of a shock for him. But still, it's nice to not have to go on a quest all by himself. "We're in Fillory, isn't this just amazing?"

[johnny_truant]

Johnny steps over to him, not really sure how to answer that. Eliot doesn't know they're dreaming. He's been in this situation before and he's never sure if he should tell or not. Especially if it's a nice dream. Maybe it's better to just let the illusion sit.

"Um, yeah," he says. Eliot's mentioned that word before but it makes as little sense to him now as it did then. "What's Fillory?"

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot can't help rolling his eyes a little, a kneejerk defense against his enthusiasm not being immediately shared. "What, you didn't read those books as a kid?" He turns around and takes in the view of the forest, kicking up those immaculate leaves in the process. Even the crunching sound is perfect. "Come on, with the family of English kids and they get pulled to this fantasy land that's just, well, fantastic and there's epic conflicts of good and evil and shit? I mean it's kid stuff and it's sort of treacly and moral but damn, what escapism." Surely this has to ring a bell.

"Anyway," he continues, looking Johnny over. Looks like neither of them have been supplied with a sword. Ugh, stingy rams. "I'm pretty sure this is the Queenswood. If we can figure out which way Whitespire is from here, we could get going on whatever quest we're meant to undertake. At the very least they ought to have booze in the castle, I bet."

[johnny_truant]

Johnny frowns perplexedly at that description, which yes, does ring a bell, but not under the label of Fillory. Eliot seems really excited, and it's adorable and nice, and he doesn't want to be a buzzkill, but he doesn't want to just nod and smile either.

"Don't you mean Narnia?" he asks hesitantly. "Cause that really sounds like Narnia to me."

[eliotwaugh]

"Nnno?" Eliot tilts his head in confusion. "What the fuck is a Narnia?"

He's not sure why this bothers him, exactly. How can he expect Johnny to be excited about what is probably going to be an amazing time in a magical world if he doesn't know what Eliot's talking about. And for that matter, why is Eliot even that excited in the first place. It's not like him. The whimsy of this world must be infectious. He doesn't need a vacation from his life, he's already on one. Or, his life is already a vacation, just the way it is. Yes. That one.

"I guess there might be some language differences in your world," he concedes at last, frowning.

[johnny_truant]

"Yeah, maybe," says Johnny, because why press the issue. He pushes a hand through his hair and looks around them. "So I don't know where the heck we are. I'll follow you." He shifts a little closer and takes Eliot's hand, not sure why he does it really, just because it seems like the thing to do. "Lead on."

[eliotwaugh]

"Okay." Johnny's vote of confidence improves Eliot's mood, and he gives Johnny's hand a little squeeze as they set off through the woods.

Eliot's memory isn't the best, and he only has a vague recollection of a map on the front endpaper of the first book. He wishes Quentin were here, Quentin would have that thing memorized. But no, this is better, Eliot can have a grand adventure all on his own, or at least with Johnny. Johnny doesn't know the source material and won't upstage him in a desperate whining bid to play the hero. No offense, Quentin, wherever you are.

But it would still be nice to have a good idea of where they're going. An intermittent breeze stirs the upper canopy of the trees, and as they continue on the air starts to turn chilly. The sunlight is spotty and shifting, gradually dimming to what could only be described as a gloom. Eventually it becomes clear to Eliot that they're only walking deeper into the forest, and it would be better to turn around.

He looks behind them to see if it looks any lighter back the way they came, and that's when Eliot starts to feel the anxiety that suffused him when he first arrived here. It's dark all around, like night is falling fast, and the ground shows no trace of their footprints, nothing looks disturbed at all. He has no idea how far they've gone.

"Um," Eliot says, holding Johnny's hand a little tighter, "so this might be a setback."

[johnny_truant]

Johnny's only dimly aware of the shift in the dream's atmosphere - it feels like something was skipped, but that happens, he's not too put off yet. He looks up at Eliot, returning the little hand squeeze.

"We're okay," he says as reassuringly as he can. Maybe he should tell him this is a dream? Maybe Eliot could control the surroundings if he knew, bring them where he wants to go. He feels weirdly shy about telling him now, like why didn't he before - what if Eliot is mad about that? - so instead he says, "Is there some kinda... magic you can do, like... I don't know. Light or summoning directions or something?"

[eliotwaugh]

"I don't know," he says, quiet. He doesn't like saying that, he doesn't ever admit when he doesn't know something, and that fact more than the sudden change in the light make him feel ill at ease. "Something's wrong here, this isn't...I mean, I don't know what kind of magic would even work here, everything else is so magical already, or supposed to be..."

But he tries to concentrate anyway, because Johnny is relying on him, in a way that people usually don't. This isn't school and this isn't his life before, and the feeling that he's actually needed gives Eliot purpose. The feeling warms him, tingling in his chest and arms even as the air grows cooler around them.

"Fuck it," he announces as he cracks his knuckles. "Better than standing around doing nothing."

He sets up the spell intuitively, fingers going through the motions for illumination and clarity. When he murmurs a few long syllables the air shimmers in a dome around them and for an instant it's brighter and warmer, like standing under a heat lamp. But just as quickly it vanishes in a flash, and the leaves are burned and smoldering in a perfect circle that smells like autumn.

Eliot frowns down at the ground. "What the hell," he wonders, "that was basic, different world or not, there's no way I just accidentally set something on fire." Unless. Eliot remembers the last time something like this happened. Or 'happened,' since the reality of that little adventure is debatable.

He turns to Johnny, squinting, almost accusing. "For fuck's sake, is this a dream?"

[johnny_truant]

"Um," says Johnny abruptly, blushing. The little finger movements and the explosion of light was incredible, but his amazed dumb grin fades in an instant when he's called out.

"Y-yeah," he says, fidgeting. "I'm sorry, I should have said, but... you seemed like you were, you know, enjoying it or..." He shrugs and shifts his weight. "Sorry, I don't know why I didn't..."

Ugh, so awkward. "That was really cool," he adds, like maybe that'll help.

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot's shoulders sag. He feels like nothing so much as a deflated balloon, and he can almost hear Janet going 'wah waaah' in his ear. Ugh.

"It wasn't cool," he pouts. He crosses his arms and kicks at the leaf litter, annoyed at how taken in he was by this stupid subconscious illusion. Ugh, illusions. What a bunch of bullshit. "It would have been cool, if I did it for real," he adds, not really looking at Johnny. "I think the way I learned magic, it doesn't work in dreams. I'll have to show you sometime, when we're awake." Eliot tries to smile, but he still mostly feels embarrassed at his failure to realize. He sighs.

"Well I guess we could still explore--" Eliot turns and glances at the forest, half expecting it to look like something abstract out of Fantasia now that the jig is up, but his words die in his throat. It's still the Fillorian forest, clearly, still twilight and endless, but in front of him is a clearing where there wasn't one before. A bare patch of moonlight and standing stark in the middle of it is a single tree. It's a delicate, ghost-pale birch, and if it didn't look out of place already among the oaks Eliot can see something metallic glinting in the trunk. His eyes immediately trace the gilt oval of the frame, and a second later the ticking starts, it's a clock, it's a clock-tree standing there, and it's so stupid it's not even doing anything, the trees never made sense in the books but none of that matters now because Eliot is terrified of it.

"That," he tries to say, swallowing. His throat's gone dry. "This shouldn't be here, it's...This is all wrong, it shouldn't be here."

[johnny_truant]

Johnny winces at Eliot's visible disappointment, his hands twisting together in discomfort. He wants to say something reassuring, but what? He's not exactly good at that kind of shit.

And then Eliot freaks out. Johnny looks up sharply and startles at the sight of the weird, sudden tree - with a clock in it, no less - it's creepy, definitely, but the way Eliot's reacting to it, it seems like something a lot more.

"What?" He steps forward, reaching out to touch Eliot's arm. "It's okay, man, it's just a dream. What is it?"

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot shakes his head. "It's not, it doesn't matter, it's not a good thing, they-they mess with time..." It's too much to explain though; the tree itself is only part of the worry, because it is out of place, and that's where Eliot's real fear lies, the rules have been tossed away and the neat fairytale order of Fillory is upturned and twisted, anything could happen now. It's never just a dream, especially not when it's Eliot's head they're in. He doesn't trust himself, not exposed, lost, defenseless. Not like this.

"It was supposed to be fun," he manages to say, though it comes out petulant and childish. "This isn't want I wanted, I want—I don't want to be here, I want to go home."

Shit, he sounds so stupid. He can't do this, he can't be like this with Johnny watching. He turns abruptly away from the tree, to get out of here, to find some other way to go.

But he can't. Of course he can't. There's no going anywhere, not now.

The man stands among the trees like he's been there all along, his hands neatly folded in front of him. There's something wrong with his hands. There's something wrong with his everything, and Eliot knows this with a bone-deep certainty. He can't move, he can't, and it doesn't matter that he wasn't even in March's class that day because they all heard the story, everyone at Brakebills knew what happened and now it's happening again. Eliot tastes something sharp and burning in the back of his throat and he can't swallow.

The man tilts his head, though it's impossible to read his expression because his face is obscured, the little leafy branch hovering in front of him, not attached to anything. Eliot wants to shudder, or vomit, or look away but he can't, and he feels so very cold. Please, he thinks, just let it be over quickly.

[johnny_truant]

"Hey, hey," says Johnny, stepping closer and resting both hands on Eliot's arms. "It's okay." Well no, it's not. Eliot is panicking, and Johnny doesn't know what to do, how he can fix this, if he can at all - he wants to be strong for a change, but this isn't his turf. His options are limited.

Eliot about-faces and seems to freeze in place a moment later, and when Johnny follows his gaze he sees... what is that? It looks like a man in a grey suit, but it's not that at all, standing there, staring at them - Johnny knows he's staring, even though he can't see the face, there's a leafy branch hanging in midair right over his face, like a frustrating veil that he can't peer through. What the fuck? Eliot's gone completely rigid beside him. This is something bad, obviously, but Johnny refuses to be cowed. Eliot's terrified, and he has to do something. He did something the other night, it was stupid, but he stood up for himself and for Daine and everyone, trying to take on the oversized dream house. He can do that again. He has no power over this setting, but surely he can do something.

He steps forward, his limbs a bit stiff, his movement strange and awkward, and places himself between Eliot and the - not man, that's not right - the creature, whatever it is. He doesn't know what to say - it doesn't seem like there's anything to be said - so he just stares intently at the obscured face, the branch, silently challenging, and takes another step forward. Go away, he wills it. Leave him alone.

body horror tw from here on out

[eliotwaugh]

Oh no. No no no no no. He doesn't want this, and it's his dream, shouldn't he be able to stop it, to change it?

Eliot tries to move and only feels sore from his muscles straining against whatever invisible force holds him still. He wishes he could get out of here, or at the very least tell Johnny to get away, but of course that's useless. From his field of vision he can see a leaf suspended in the air, mid-fall.

And then there's a sound, just outside his field of vision, the sound of movement. His heart's racing. What fresh hell is this, he thinks, that the Beast wasn't enough to dump on their minds? And then it moves to where he can see it, and it's Johnny, somehow mobile and just fine, standing between him and the Beast.

Fuck no. Eliot doesn't know how Johnny's immune to the Beast's effect on time, he just wants Johnny to get out of the way. Don't do this, please. There's a yell building up inside him, his chest is tight and he can't release it. He tries to concentrate, to will his thoughts at Johnny if he can't say anything. Just go, he thinks, desperate and pleading. Just get out of here, there's nothing you can do, it's not worth it.

He can see a flicker of movement from behind Johnny's hair; the Beast is moving, starting to circle in a slow amble. Its fingers ripple as if in some invisible wind. Too many fingers, Eliot thinks, that's way too many, and it makes him feel sick to look at them.

[johnny_truant]

Johnny gets the impression taking his eyes off this creature would be a bad idea, but he does it anyway, turning to look Eliot in the eye. He's completely frozen, still breathing, his expression contorted in horror, radiating desperation. Johnny stares at him, terrified to see him like this. What the fuck is going on?

"Eliot," he whispers, reaching out to touch him. He feels solid, human, warm, but he's immovable. "What's happening?"

He rounds back on the Beast, anger rising to the top of his cold calm. "What have you done to him?" he snaps. "Let him go!"

He makes another motion forward, reaching, maybe for the branch.

[eliotwaugh]

When Johnny turns to look at him Eliot wants to cry, or look away, anything so he doesn't have to see Johnny's searching gaze, the confusion that fast turns to anger. Oh no, Johnny. Don't be brave, not for him.

But it's happening and Eliot can't stop it; he can only watch, like this is some ridiculous fucking movie, this tableau playing out before his eyes. Ha ha, a captive audience. What a tasteless pun. It's happening and Johnny's yelling, he can't see Johnny's face but he knows what he must look like. Just like the first night they met and Johnny went off on that guy in the subway, Johnny cares too much and Eliot doesn't get why Johnny cares about him, doesn't get why Johnny can't just do the sensible thing and get the hell away from here when he could stay safe.

It's too late now, though, Eliot can sense it, and whatever move Johnny makes is one step too far because the Beast moves in a blur, inhumanly fast.


It catches Johnny's hand in an iron grip almost as soon as he reaches out; it clicks its tongue, chiding, now what did you go and do that for? The leaves of its branch rustle as it shakes its head slowly. With its other hand it holds Johnny by the throat and lifts him up. Its fingers ripple and settle around that soft fragile neck, still as a spider, waiting, giving him time to realize the depth of his mistake.

body horror HELLA INTENSIFIES, also strangulation and death, I am serious this is bad news bears

[johnny_truant]

His breath seizes up when it catches his wrist, too fast for him to have even seen it move, and then the other hand is on his throat, dragging him up off the ground. His feet dangle absurdly as it holds him up, its hand moving from his wrist to clamp around his back, trapping his arms, crushing him, forcing the air out of him. Anger gives way to panic and he starts struggling desperately. What is this thing, what does it want?

The branch peels away, curls around the back of his head. It doesn't have a face. Featureless and smooth. Just a mouth, grinning broadly.

"No-!" he hears himself scream, but only for a moment. It opens its mouth too wide, like a snake unhinging its jaw, and pushes him forward. He doesn't know how long it lasts, isn't precisely sure when he stops being present for it, it's just a wash of agony and terror, and then he jerks awake, sweat-soaked, heart pounding, breathing sharp and scared.