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existencemisspentUltimately, Eliot decided, the problem was that he didn't have anyone to properly brainstorm with. Josh was too damned cheery all the time, which was great in a dealer of relaxing pharmaceuticals baked into delicious desserts, but worth fuck-all when the world was going after your balls with a belt sander. He needed to talk to Quentin. Quentin knew all about this whimsical Fillory crap. The problem with that, of course, was that Quentin was basically on another planet, and without magic, he had no way to talk to him.
Without . . . his own magic. But whimsical Fillory crap was all about magic. Like fairies.
And talking animals.
He found Rafe and Abigail where they usually hung out, not far from the table where piles of scrolls full of petitions and complaints from his desperate and starving subjects were waiting for him. He swallowed back the pang of guilt he felt about ignoring those — he could only fix one problem at a time, dammit, and he'd already done the best he could to introduce irrigation without having full on flashbacks to the hell that was his childhood in rural Indiana — and headed over to them.
"Abigail." He smiled at the sloth and her interpreter. "Talking animal question."
Abigail slowly turned her head in his direction, and Rafe smiled.
"So," Eliot said, lifting both hands. ". . . Bunnies."
Abigail grunted something. Rafe leaned in to listen, then looked up at Eliot again.
"Her Sluggishness has noted that you are aware of their messenger abilities."
Ha! "So that is what the Fairy Queen uses them for?"
"Bunnies move easily between worlds."
Eliot nodded slowly. "And do they serve her?" he asked. "And if so . . . how loyally?"
Rafe shrugged. "Every bunny for itself, Majesty."
Eliot smiled, finally seeing a glimmer of light on this fucked up horizon. He reached out to pat Rafe on the cheek. "Thank you!"
He had some bunnies to bribe!
*
The time difference between Earth and Fillory had always been a monumental pain in the ass, but when he was waiting for Quentin to send a bunny back to him, it seemed even worse. Eliot had already tried sending several — more than several, maybe — to Margo, wherever the fuck she was, and gotten no response. If he didn't get anything from Quentin either, he was maybe going to finally go as batshit as poor Fen.
Maybe he could decide a tree was Margo. Something tall and elegant and powerful. What was the most badass tree species?
He'd nearly worn a rut down the middle of the fancy little hallway full of anti-fairy stones Rafe had clued him in on when the bunnies started appearing.
"NO MARGO HERE!" the first one said. Eliot kind of wanted to feed it a lozenge. "SORRY!"
"NO MAGIC EITHER," said the next. "EXTRA SORRY!"
"Trust Q to apologize for a fucking magic outage," Eliot said. He leaned down to scoop one of the bunnies up and send a message back when another bunny landed behind the first two.
"OLD GODS MAD ABOUT EMBER!" it said.
Eliot blinked. "I . . . guess that makes sense?"
"NO MARGO HERE," the first rabbit said again. "SORRY!"
"Yes, I heard you the first time, thanks."
"OLD GODS MAD!"
"NO MAGIC EITHER!"
"SORRY!"
"EXTRA SORRY!"
"OLD GODS MAD!"
"Oh holy fuck how do I turn them back off?" he held the 'no Margo' bunny up in front of his face. "Tell Q to stop apologizing." He let go of it and it vanished.
Seven bunnies appeared in rapid succession, babbling about old gods and Julia and magic and petitions, each repeating their brief messages over and over in a chorus that sounded like a call center run out of an emphysema ward.
"This is like the worst group text ever," Eliot muttered. He picked up another bunny. "Stop sending bunnies," he told it firmly. He set it down and grabbed the next one. "Let me catch up." And the next. "Also what do you know about fairies?"
When he set that one down another one vanished with it. Right, he could only do maybe five or six syllables with these guys.
Finally, he'd whinnowed the herd — flock? Pack. What was the collective noun for bunnies? — down to one more.
"Okay," he said. "I think I've got how this works now, so this is the really important one. If you deliver it, I'll get you a whole case of Marlboros . . . somehow. Are you ready?"
The bunny twitched its nose.
"I'll take that as a yes." Eliot steadied himself and looked deep into the bunny's eyes. "I need you to find High Queen Margo, okay? And when you do, tell her. . . ." They didn't have a code word for this kind of situation. ". . . Ask her to tell you where she is. And then come back. Okay?"
Another nose twitch.
"Okay."
Eliot set the bunny down. It vanished. He started pacing again, waiting for it to return.
*
He never saw that bunny — or any of the others he sent after Margo — again.
[NFB, NFI, OOC welcome. Part 2 of Eliot's pre-Fandom set up! Adapted from Magicians 3x01, "The Tales of the Seven Keys" In case you were wondering what Margo's bunny plague was all about. . . .]
Without . . . his own magic. But whimsical Fillory crap was all about magic. Like fairies.
And talking animals.
He found Rafe and Abigail where they usually hung out, not far from the table where piles of scrolls full of petitions and complaints from his desperate and starving subjects were waiting for him. He swallowed back the pang of guilt he felt about ignoring those — he could only fix one problem at a time, dammit, and he'd already done the best he could to introduce irrigation without having full on flashbacks to the hell that was his childhood in rural Indiana — and headed over to them.
"Abigail." He smiled at the sloth and her interpreter. "Talking animal question."
Abigail slowly turned her head in his direction, and Rafe smiled.
"So," Eliot said, lifting both hands. ". . . Bunnies."
Abigail grunted something. Rafe leaned in to listen, then looked up at Eliot again.
"Her Sluggishness has noted that you are aware of their messenger abilities."
Ha! "So that is what the Fairy Queen uses them for?"
"Bunnies move easily between worlds."
Eliot nodded slowly. "And do they serve her?" he asked. "And if so . . . how loyally?"
Rafe shrugged. "Every bunny for itself, Majesty."
Eliot smiled, finally seeing a glimmer of light on this fucked up horizon. He reached out to pat Rafe on the cheek. "Thank you!"
He had some bunnies to bribe!
*
The time difference between Earth and Fillory had always been a monumental pain in the ass, but when he was waiting for Quentin to send a bunny back to him, it seemed even worse. Eliot had already tried sending several — more than several, maybe — to Margo, wherever the fuck she was, and gotten no response. If he didn't get anything from Quentin either, he was maybe going to finally go as batshit as poor Fen.
Maybe he could decide a tree was Margo. Something tall and elegant and powerful. What was the most badass tree species?
He'd nearly worn a rut down the middle of the fancy little hallway full of anti-fairy stones Rafe had clued him in on when the bunnies started appearing.
"NO MARGO HERE!" the first one said. Eliot kind of wanted to feed it a lozenge. "SORRY!"
"NO MAGIC EITHER," said the next. "EXTRA SORRY!"
"Trust Q to apologize for a fucking magic outage," Eliot said. He leaned down to scoop one of the bunnies up and send a message back when another bunny landed behind the first two.
"OLD GODS MAD ABOUT EMBER!" it said.
Eliot blinked. "I . . . guess that makes sense?"
"NO MARGO HERE," the first rabbit said again. "SORRY!"
"Yes, I heard you the first time, thanks."
"OLD GODS MAD!"
"NO MAGIC EITHER!"
"SORRY!"
"EXTRA SORRY!"
"OLD GODS MAD!"
"Oh holy fuck how do I turn them back off?" he held the 'no Margo' bunny up in front of his face. "Tell Q to stop apologizing." He let go of it and it vanished.
Seven bunnies appeared in rapid succession, babbling about old gods and Julia and magic and petitions, each repeating their brief messages over and over in a chorus that sounded like a call center run out of an emphysema ward.
"This is like the worst group text ever," Eliot muttered. He picked up another bunny. "Stop sending bunnies," he told it firmly. He set it down and grabbed the next one. "Let me catch up." And the next. "Also what do you know about fairies?"
When he set that one down another one vanished with it. Right, he could only do maybe five or six syllables with these guys.
Finally, he'd whinnowed the herd — flock? Pack. What was the collective noun for bunnies? — down to one more.
"Okay," he said. "I think I've got how this works now, so this is the really important one. If you deliver it, I'll get you a whole case of Marlboros . . . somehow. Are you ready?"
The bunny twitched its nose.
"I'll take that as a yes." Eliot steadied himself and looked deep into the bunny's eyes. "I need you to find High Queen Margo, okay? And when you do, tell her. . . ." They didn't have a code word for this kind of situation. ". . . Ask her to tell you where she is. And then come back. Okay?"
Another nose twitch.
"Okay."
Eliot set the bunny down. It vanished. He started pacing again, waiting for it to return.
*
He never saw that bunny — or any of the others he sent after Margo — again.
[NFB, NFI, OOC welcome. Part 2 of Eliot's pre-Fandom set up! Adapted from Magicians 3x01, "The Tales of the Seven Keys" In case you were wondering what Margo's bunny plague was all about. . . .]