endlessflask | [ deerington inbox ]

[ He might think that, but that doesn't mean she does. ]

You be patient, you wait. Sometimes that's all you can do. And if you need people to wait with you, that's fine. Not being alone in it helps.

He'll come back.

yeah
of course he will

im just tired

I can take a watch if you want to try and get some sleep?

Do you want me to bring you anything, too?

no
i think i have everything i need
thanks for doing this

You're welcome.

What about food, have you eaten? I can bring some stew, if you'd like.

stew sounds really nice

It's good. It's a recipe my father taught me.

Okay, I'll bring some. You can eat and get a little sleep and we can go from there, okay?

i owe you one

It's fine.

I'll be round soon, okay?

ok

[ It's not long before she comes over, carrying a tupperware tub filled with homemade stew: nothing fancy, hearty vegetables; a recipe her father taught her. She's gone to the trouble of warming the portion - it's ready to eat and if she can, she'll try coax him to eat straight away. She's also carrying a large book with her: one of the Fillory books, written in Braille, a gift from Quentin.

It seems like a good way to pass the time if she can get Eliot to nap, too. It seems like a good idea; if he's not looking after himself properly, then what good is he to anyone? OA knows fine well what happens. If you don't eat when you're hungry, don't sleep when you're tired: it makes you weak. And she doesn't want Eliot to be that vulnerable.

Concern etches into her face when the door's opened to her. She tries a smile, small and light - but the concern doesn't shift. ]

I'm glad I came. [ It feels like she's come at the right time, considering. ] Hey, Eliot.

[ Eliot tries a smile in turn, but it barely looks like anything more than a tired turn up of his mouth. He's definitely been focusing more on the Smoke And Drink aspect of life rather than the Eat And Sleep, but this isn't new territory for Eliot. His body is conditioned for this type of treatment. ]

Hi.

[ He steps aside, leaning on his cane to let her in. The stew looks very good and he can't stop the rumble in his stomach at the sight of it. ]

Thanks. Again.

It's alright, I don't mind. [ She steps inside when he moves to let her in. She turns slightly, holding the tub out to him and lifting her chin. ]

I heated it for you before I came. It'll still be fine, as long as you eat now.

[ It's a subtle but maybe not so subtle way of telling him she still really wants him to eat. It would be easy enough to put it off for later — but she knows he really does need to eat. He's... quite angular. ]

[ Eliot understands the hint. And, honestly? When he takes the stew, his stomach grumbles at the prospect of actually eating real food, and he figures that's as much of a sign as anything.

He's not really a lot of use to Quentin if he passes out from starvation. ]

Thanks. Can I get you anything?

[ He should still be a good host. He's going to the kitchen anyway, so it's not like he'll be going out of his way. ]

Oh, just some water would be fine.

[ She's unsurprised at the offer; it's kind of him. Or rather, him still trying to be a good host despite what he has on his plate. Smiling a little, she raises the book in her hands she's brought with her; a huge thing compared to usual-sized books. One of the Fillory books Quentin gave her. ]

I figured it might be nice to read to him while you took a nap. [ Her lips purse for a moment. ] It feels better when you're doing something, for me anyway. I've done a lot of sitting around doing nothing in my life, probably too much of it, really.

[ Fillory. Of course. Quentin's giving out those books like candy, it seems. ]

He'd like that.

[ Shit, if Quentin's catatonic voice didn't ring out from inside the vein cocoon as he recited the words with her while he slept, Eliot wouldn't even be surprised.

He makes his way into the kitchen. The stew is set on the table, and he gets her a glass of water. He also grabs one for himself, because he suddenly feels parched. ]

If you need any help with understanding Fillory shit while he sleeps, I can probably help. They're kids books and you're smart so you're probably fine but it's a confusing as shit place.

They're quite good, for children's books. I think I would have appreciated them better as a child. [ She's always been quite fond of stories. She takes the offered glass of water with a smile. ] But it's been nice to read something from your world, they don't exist in mine.

[ Some things appear to be universal, others aren't. It's funny how dimensions are, that way. ]

It's a real place, isn't it? I know Quentin mentioned it does actually exist in your dimension. He said he's been here. Have you?

[ She's yet to find out how bad it is, though. Quentin's largely avoided letting her know about that part. ]

Mm. Yeah. I was High King and everything.

[ Eliot settles down at the table, taking a spoonful of the stew. It is very very good, and Eliot realizes how much he needed this. He takes another few bites before carrying on. ]

Quentin’s still the Fillory authority but I like to think my tenure as monarch lends me some valuable insight.

You were High King? [ It startles a laugh out of her. Honestly, she's... not expecting that. Visiting Fillory, what was believed to be entirely fictional, is one thing — but ruling it? Actually immersing oneself within that world?

She's smiling though and it's at least genuine. She sits down at the table with him. It's safe to say she has a budding interest thanks to these books. ]

That's... kind of amazing. What was that like? Being king?

Oh. You know.

[ Eliot talks between eating. He shrugs a bit, and mostly it's evident that he's trying to figure out how to put his experience in kinder words. ]

I got a lot of nice clothes. And people literally did whatever I told them to. I once told someone sarcastically to get me a unicorn milk latte and they did. Being a king is all fun and games until you realize you can't actually help your people. I miss it. It gave me purpose.

We like to feel useful. Purpose helps us feel connected to the bigger picture, to the whole. It's... a pretty powerful force. [ Her voice is quiet as she speaks, glancing down at her glass of water before taking a sip. She tilts her head to one side ever so slightly and smiles softly. ] I think there are more ways than one to find purpose, though. You don't just have to wear a crown for it.

[ Her eyebrows had raised at the mention of 'unicorn latte', though. She has to ask, she has to. Something a little lighter to give pause to the heavier side of the conversation. ]

Was the unicorn latte as magical as it sounds?

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