eliotwaugh: (melancholy)
Eliot Waugh ([personal profile] eliotwaugh) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2015-01-17 12:32 pm

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

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.
johnny_truant: (say what now)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-01-18 08:05 am (UTC)(link)
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?"
johnny_truant: (direct | unafraid)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-01-18 09:49 am (UTC)(link)
"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.
Edited 2015-01-18 17:20 (UTC)
johnny_truant: (desperate)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-01-18 06:04 pm (UTC)(link)
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.
Edited 2015-01-18 18:05 (UTC)
johnny_truant: (oh shiiiit)

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

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-01-18 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
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.