The preserve, Saturday afternoon

[existencemisspent]

The nightmares weren't getting worse, but they weren't getting any better, either. Eliot's usual coping mechanisms of drugs and booze and hedonism hadn't done much more than fuck over his entire sleep schedule, so that he ended up taking naps at random moments and waking up with an overwhelming need to escape. This usually led him to the bottom of a bottle, but Margo had said that she ran into Rafe and Abigail, of all people, at some event thrown by the school, so maybe they were going to make it back to Fillory soon. In which case, he should at least try not to be wasted or hungover.

So today, he was escaping physically. Putting as much distance between himself and his bed as possible. Which led to him hiking, in dress shoes and silk of all things, into the preserve.

He was unconvinced that this was any smarter an idea than losing himself at the bottom of a bottle.

[for one]

Comments

[fillorynotfiligree]

“You’re parts of one whole,” the Great Cock said firmly. (If that had any weird implications, he certainly wasn’t concerned with them.) “No one can do this alone.”

[existencemisspent]

"Okay." Eliot's secret romantic heart leaped at those implications, okay? "Um. FYI, I can't contact them or reach them in any way."

[fillorynotfiligree]

Eliot really needed to learn about the power of positive thought. The Great Cock could find him some books once this was over.

“You must find the book with no author. A tale for children, but they’re hardly that,” he exposition. “There is the key. . . or, the keys. . . in a place called. . .” What was it again? The name had been so odd.

Ah, now he remembered. “Public Library,” he continued. “In the shire of Chester. In the land of. . .” Another one of those strange names. What was it, rimed with Schm— “New Jersey.”

[existencemisspent]

"So this is a multiple world kind of deal," Eliot mused to himself. "Because you're Fillorian, but that sure sounds like Earth."

[fillorynotfiligree]

“Eliot,” the Great Cock said urgently, “The Quest I bestow on you is the task you were born for. Claim it!”

[existencemisspent]

". . . Oh." What were you supposed to say to something like that? It felt a bit like there should be a cut scene to some triumphant action or something. Him actually claiming things.

Eliot stood. That was probably a step in the right direction, right?

"Um. Thank you," he said. Then bowed. "Oh Great . . . Cock. I will do my very best."