Eliot Waugh

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]