#BUT I MISS THE ENTIRE CAST ESPECIALLY MARGO QUENTIN ELIOT PENNY

[kiss2012]

going through my the magicians tag is so incredibly depressing. i had such hope…such happiness…such passion…until it was all destroyed

[sadlittlenerdking]

I’ve Got You Carved On My Heart

The Magicians, Quentin and Eliot

Word count: 2,700

Summary: For the anon who prompted me with “queliot + post-it’s” like three weeks ago. Post season 2.

The first one Eliot sees is on the throne room floor. He furrows his brow, bends over and picks up the bright yellow post-it note ambiguously thrown to the floor. Part of him wonders how it got here because post-it notes don’t exist in Fillory, or at least, not that he’s aware. But another part figures Quentin dropped it sometime before Magic disappeared, and it’d somehow been swept through the castle to find itself to him. The theory seems even more valid when he unfolds the crumpled ball, and reads, in Quentin’s handwriting,

There has to be a solution.

He checks to make sure there’s nobody else in the throne room before silently slipping the post-it in his back pocket and heading down the hall.

*

The next one is a little harder to explain away. It appears bright pink and on the cloudy, sad excuse for a mirror in his chambers. He wakes up to it, sticking there, like it belongs there, or is waiting for him to find it. He runs a hand through his hair as he sits up, tilting his head at it. Even across the room he can tell it’s Quentin’s handwriting on the face of the paper. He pushes himself up from the bed, makes his way across the room, and plucks it off the mirror with a frown. It’s an equation for a spell he’s never seen before. Not quite powerful enough to be a battle spell, but it has some of the same aspects a battle spell would possess.

He sighs, pulls open the drawer of his dresser, and shoves aside some of his clothes, so he can place it at the back of the drawer with the yellow one. Hidden from view, but easy to reach should he feel lonely enough to want a reminder of Quentin.

*

It happens more than a dozen more times in the coming weeks. Sometimes it’s doodles on neon green, or spells on vibrant orange. Every once in a while there’s a little sad ‘I miss him,’ written on a blue post-it that appears and reappears over and over again. A sad attempt at a doodle that looks vaguely like him appears on a yellow post-it once. This one stays on the top of his dresser. When Margo see’s it, he doesn’t even bother trying to explain it, he just shrugs, and continues on with their conversation.

There’s a scratched out messy list on a purple post-it once. He thinks it’s a list of every possible way into Fillory.

Button

clock

penny

Dragon?

spell?

Dragon throws him off, but he just sighs and puts the post-it in the back of the drawer with the rest of his growing collection of the rainbow post-it’s filled with Quentin’s handwriting. He notes the blue one is gone again with a sad roll of his eyes, as he looks into the mirror.

He misses Quentin.

And the others, obviously.

But mostly Quentin.

*

It’s two months later, when an orange post-it appears on his lap in the throne room that he really starts to suspect magic isn’t as gone as he and Margo have come to believe. He nearly jumps out of his throne when he glances down. It almost looks like fire, until he zeroes in on it. He picks it up, and can barely hold in the gasp when he reads it.

In big, black letters, scratched so hard into the orange paper that it’s nearly torn through, is:

ELIOT?

His heart races as he jumps up from the throne, rushes through an excuse to Margo and Tick, and storms out of the throne room and through the halls to his chambers. He slams the door shut behind him, falling up against it as he lifts the post-it up in front of him and stares into it so hard, he half expects it to disappear, and for this all to just be a vision of him losing his mind.

But it doesn’t disappear. Doesn’t turn to dust. And the word stays the same.

It’s probably nothing, he tries to justify, but if the pile of post-it’s in his drawer are anything to go by - this isn’t just some case of Quentin’s belongings flying around the castle. It can’t be. Especially when he looks at it, and the ink still shines as if it’s just been written.

Shaking, he makes his way over to the dresser and pulls open the drawer.

*

There aren’t any post-its for a week.

And then, on a fresh blue post-it, rather than the crumpled up and overused one that disappears and reappears:

I don’t know if this is going where I think it is. But if it is - Eliot, I miss you. We’re figuring something out. Margo, I miss you, too, if you’re seeing this. Please be careful.

Part of him wonders if he should take the post-it seriously, and be careful, or if he should curl up in his bed, clutching it to his chest like it’s his only remaining lifeline.

He does the latter.

*

There are more blues over the next two weeks. All with similar messages. They flutter over his bed like butterflies, and he plucks them from the air as he sees them. Pulls them to his chest after he reads them, and whispers his own messages into his empty room. He knows nobody’ll hear them, but it gives him a small peace of mind.

One day, he finally sits up and calls for a servant. Demands a pen.

He doesn’t expect anything to happen when he writes ‘I miss you, too,’ on the post-it that performs it’s own magic trick on the daily. But he does it anyway, because something inside him wants an answer.

Because he does miss Quentin, and even though he can’t actually tell him, it soothes some of the ache in his chest to put the words on paper. To give them existence somewhere other than inside him. To let them be, rather than to watch the words fade into the air as soon as he utters them.

And mostly, because, as much as he hates to admit it, he desperately wants it to be real.

*

The next post-it has tear drops, or rain drops, he’s not quite sure, still wet on the surface when it appears next to his dinner plate. Margo see’s it flash into existence and fall next to his food. She’s quick to dart around the table and pick it up before he can even register that it’s appeared. She gasps, and the green paper falls from her hands, flutters down in the air, until Eliot can grab it and read it for himself;

Eliot - was that you? Are you really getting these? We’re figuring something out. We love you guys. It shouldn’t be much longer.

It’s a long conversation that he can’t escape, when he pushes his chair out and Margo follows him back to his room. He empties the drawer out onto his bed, and lets her read through each of the notes. They have their first real, friendly conversation in weeks. And when they fall asleep, they do so together, overtop Eliot’s blankets, holding each other, the post-it’s piled up in between them.

*

There’s a new one every day after that night documenting . . . something. He hasn’t exactly figured out what Quentin’s up to. But he’s emptied the top drawer of his dresser of everything except the post-it’s, so he can order them chronologically - with an empty space at the center of the drawer for the mysterious reappearing blue I miss him.

On green, he gets -  Kady has an idea.

On purple - Kady was wrong. But we might have something else.

On yellow - Penny reappeared. We’re doing something right.

He’s not sure what that means, Penny’s reappeared, but he doesn’t question it too much, when he places the post-it in the drawer with the others.

Margo starts sleeping in his room, the two of them barely leaving for anything more than important meetings about ruling Fillory - and only ever one at a time. One of them always stays behind just in case a new post-it appears with answers. They realize they can appear anywhere, but more frequently they pop up in Eliot’s room. So it seems safest to stay there, and not risk any of the servants finding any and throwing them away.

*

One night, when Margo’s curled up on the bed, crown haphazardly falling off her head from where she’s drooling on Eliot’s pillow, another blue post-it appears;

I’m sorry I left you behind. I broke my promise. But I’m going to fix it.

He lies down next to Margo, setting the post-it on the pillow between them for her to find when she wakes up. He’s not entirely sure what promise Quentin thinks he’s broken, but it doesn’t matter. His eyes flutter shut, and the image of Quentin and the others barging through the castle doors commands his dreams.

*

Everything goes quiet. There aren’t any new notes for nearly a month. Margo starts leaving the room more and more, angrier and less kind to the servants and visitors from other kingdoms. Her temper leaves no person unsinged. Even Eliot gets a taste of it, but her eyes flicker to the dresser, and she falls silent, sitting next to him on the bed, and she’s forgiven.

There’s a thought that neither of them dare speak aloud. That they can’t bear to bring into existence, but it flutters around at the back of their minds, loud and repetitive, buzzing angrily.

What if Quentin’s dead?

Because that’s where their minds go first when anyone disappears anymore. With their life and track record, what other explanation could there be for the sudden, resounding silence?

*

Idri’s visiting when the pink post-it appears in the middle of the throne room and floats down to the floor, soft and careful. Nobody moves for a few long beats, but before Eliot can react, Margo’s jumping up, running down the steps, and scooping the note up to read it. She stares at it for a moment, before looking up at Eliot with furrowed brows.

“What’s it say?” He asks.

“‘We’re coming home.’”

*

Something inside him buzzes back to life, like somebodies flipped a switch. It’s familiar and hungry, coursing through his veins like it’s been a part of him that’s been dammed off from the rest of him. Hesitantly, with trembling hands, he makes the familiar motions of the fire bringing spell. His breath hitches as a small flame appears on the tips of his fingers and fizzles out.

He pushes up from the bed and races through the castle, searching for Margo. When he gets to the throne room, he slams the doors open. “Margo!” He exclaims, looking down at his hands as he makes his way in. “Magic is back.” He casts the spell again, grinning for the first time in months as the fire explodes in front of him again.

“Yeah,” Margo says, her voice hoarse and choked up. He looks up, and his heart stops. “That’s not the only thing that’s back.”

Standing in front of her are Julia, Penny, Kady and Alice.

He frowns, lowering his hands as the flame extinguishes itself. “Where’s Quentin?”

Penny scoffs, “How did I know -,”

“He went looking for you,” Kady interrupts, shoving Penny with a slight smile. “As soon as we got here, he split, said he had to find you.”

He stares at them for a few seconds before Julia sighs with a roll of her eyes, “Well? Are you just going to stand there or are you going to go look for him? He’s exhausted, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets lost in this castle.”

Nodding shakily, he turns on his heel and makes his way through the castle. He has a feeling he knows exactly where Quentin is. His footsteps echo loud and kind against the hallways as he follows them towards his room. His door is open, and there’s a shadow dancing in the candle flames when he finally gets there. He moves through the doorway, stopping at the sight of Quentin standing over his bed, post-it’s in his hands.

“You’re here,” He breathes.

Quentin turns around, wide eyed and breathless. There are bags under his eyes, and he’s so pale, Eliot worries he hasn’t been in the sun in the six months they’ve been apart. His hair’s grown to an almost unacceptable length, and he’s too skinny. He stares at Eliot for a few moments, before the post-its are falling through the air and he’s running across the room. He crashes into Eliot with a smoldering hug before they even hit the ground. Quentin’s arms wrap around Eliot tight, holding him so close to him that Eliot can feel his heartbeat pulsing against his own chest.

“I wasn’t sure,” Quentin says into Eliot’s chest. “I wasn’t sure.”

Eliot’s arms move around, hesitant and gentle as they gather Quentin up, holding him. He closes his eyes, leaning into the hug. They stay like that for a few minutes, until Quentin slumps, and Eliot pulls away to see his eyes have fallen closed, and he’s snoring softly. A soft, disbelieving chuckle falls from his lips before he uses his - rusty - telekinesis to float Quentin over to the bed. He lies down next to him, unable to fall asleep, just amazed to see him, to feel his radiating warmth.

He flicks a hand, and all the candles in the room go out, leaving them in darkness.

*

Four hours later, Quentins eyes flutter open, gazing sleepily into Eliot’s. His right hand comes up, rests on Eliot’s cheek and he smiles wide, his eyes crinkling and his nose wrinkling. “It’s you,” He says, soft and sleep riddled.

“I could say the same to you,” Eliot murmurs. “I’ve been staring at you for hours and I still can’t believe it.”

“You were watching me sleep?”

“Creepy, yes. But I don’t really care.”

Quentin’s eyes fall shut as he laughs, thumb sweeping over Eliot’s cheek. “I missed you. I almost forgot what you sounded like.”

Eliot takes a deep breath. “I sound the same as always. Probably a little disappointing.” Quentin hums, shaking his head, but his breathings slowed, and he’s halfway asleep. His hand falls from Eliot’s jaw, slides down his chest, until it’s resting on the bed between them. Eliot chuckles, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead, before sitting up and heading towards the throne room for some answers.

Quentin needs his sleep anyways.

*

It takes a few days for any of them to start roaming the castle or the grounds. They’re all exhausted, and sleep for the majority of the time. But when Quentin finally sits up, awake and excited, Eliot’s there, eyebrow perked. He starts to ask what’s got him so excited, but then Quentin’s pushing forward and suddenly they’re kissing.

He pulls away after a moment, pressing his forehead against Eliot’s. “By the way,” He whispers, squinting his eyes, “It’s good to see you.”

Eliot laughs, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, less talking more kissing.” And then he’s leaning in, pressing his lips against Quentin’s.

*

A week later they’re all in the throne room, planning the speech Tick’s going to give to announce the return of magic. Margo’s talking when he feels something thin and scratchy appear in his hand on his lap. Frowning, he turns his palm upwards and finds a blue post-it there. It’s the same one that appeared and disappeared, all crumpled and torn.

But beneath where he’d written ‘I miss you, too,’ Quentin’s added something:

I love you.

He smiles, lifting his gaze to roll his eyes jokingly at Quentin. Quentin just shrugs with a grin, and turns his attention back on Margo. They’d already said it, time and time again in Eliot’s bedroom over the past week, but it still sends a pleasant chill up his back.

Especially when he thinks about the fact that he’s not the only one who kept the post-it’s. There’s a reason this one kept appearing and disappearing and reappearing. He shakes his head as he closes his hand around it, and looks back up at Margo to pay attention as well.

Apparently they’re both sentimental saps.

[sadlittlenerdking]

Project Seduce Quentin Coldwater and So Lift His Spirits Ch. 3

The Magicians, Quentin x Eliot

Word count 2700

Chapter 3 / ?

Summary: Unfortunately not everything can be about quentin and eliot because the beast is still very much a thing, and still looking to kill them all. Also Quentin thinks Eliot has a boyfriend...

Also on AO3.

“There you are!” A voice calls out, angry and not too far off. Eliot feels a cold shock spread down his spine, because he knows the voice, he hates the voice, and he genuinely feels a strong desire to battle magic it into the void of never ending misery. It’s not a real thing, but if it were, Penny Adiyodi would be hurling at light speed towards it right this very minute. Eliot would kick him so hard they’d both fly back into the past, just so Eliot could kick him back into the future and make it a never ending loop of fucking blasting him.

He hates Penny, if it weren’t already obvious. There’s no particular reason. Even if he is the reason Quentin got expelled. That has absolutely nothing to do with his hatred for him. Not at all.  

“Yo - what the fuck are you doing in the city?” Penny asks, trudging through the snow, scowl ever present on his face. Eliot sneers at him, takes a second to wonder if he’s ever worn a shirt that covered the entirety of his chest or arms.

Jesus, he’s one hairy man. In some social circles, Eliot’s fairly certain, he could be considered a bear. A little ironic, considering Eliot can barely stand him.

Eliot crosses his arms over his chest, making a face, “Why does it matter?” He asks, “My life doesn’t revolve around Brakebills.”

Penny scoffs, and Eliot really, really wants to hit him, “First of all,” Penny starts, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, “I think we both know that’s bullshit.” He raises a hand as Eliot opens his mouth to spout off an endless spew of obscenities, “Spare me,” He drawls, “We have to get back to the school. There’s been an attack. Everyone in Ibiza’s been rushed back.”

“What?”

What the hell kind of attack could make Dean Fogg cancel Ibiza and bring back a truck load of horny, drugged up party goers? He has to know what a shit storm of a plan that is. Especially if Eliot thinks back to his first trip to Ibiza, and how somebody accidentally conjured up a ravenous Tiger that started stalking everyone, and ate one or two comatose drunkards. Ibiza parties aren’t normal parties. Calling one off - let alone all of them - is fucking suicidal.

“The beast,” Penny says, waving a hand at his side, “So, you coming or no - oh, no fucking way.” A big grin spreads across his face as he raises an eyebrow at Eliot. “This is why you’re in the city? Fuck, that - that’s fucking rich.�� Eliot frowns, turning around, and nearly slapping himself in the face, because somehow he’d forgotten Quentin. Penny’s laughing as Quentin approaches, a hot dog in each hand, and a small smile on his face directed at the snow he’s kicking with each step. “You’re really that obsessed with this loser?”

Eliot jaw slams shut as he turns back around, points a finger at Penny, “Don’t,” He says, warning, “I have years of practice on you. Do not fucking test me.” His voice is low, and he sees something flash behind Penny’s eyes that could almost be mistaken for hesitation, but then he’s rolling them and taking a step back, throwing his hands in the air. Eliot’s upper lip twitches as he glares him down.

“Whatever, man,” Penny mutters, “Just say goodbye to the dweeb, I’m your only ride onto campus. They’re shutting down the alumni keys until the threat is assessed or whatever.”

A warm presence appears at Eliot’s shoulder, and he looks over to find Quentin staring at Penny with furrowed brows. “Do I know you?”

Penny eyes Quentin distastefully before flicking his eyes back over to Eliot. “I’m not waiting more than five minutes. So, do whatever the fuck it is you do with him.”

He could at least have the decency to look a bit remorseful, Eliot thinks as he flicks his cigarette off into the snow, considering he’s the sole fucking reason Quentin not only got expelled, but also wiped. They both know damn well Penny had hidden the Emersons Alloy Repellent Crystal away, just so he could make sure Quentin couldn’t find a way to retain his memories. Of course they only knew that because Eliot may have gone looking for it the night Quentin came to him, panicking about going back to his old life and who he used to be. He may have concocted a plan to slip the crystal into Quentin’s jacket pocket with an accidental pass by, but because he never found the damn thing - despite being in the secret compartment the day before - he never got the chance to.

It was the first, and only, time Penny thought faster than him.

Quentin tilts his head upwards, a scowl slowly appearing on his face. “I know I don’t know you, but I don’t think I like you.”

A small bubble of pride blooms in Eliot’s stomach as he turns his attention back on Penny and smirks. “I totally get it,” He says, bumping his shoulder against Quentins, “I can’t stand him either.”

Penny’s eyes narrow. “Three minutes, asshole.” He growls before turning around and stomping off to sulk or whatever the hell it is he does when nobodies around. Eliot has a small, petulant belief that he jerks off to the thought of dead babies.

What? He said it was petulant.

Eliot sighs, turning his attention on Quentin. “So,” He says, making a face. They’re only halfway through what was supposed to be an entire day, and he’s cutting it short, and knowing Quentin’s current mind space, he’s going to see it as literally anything other than what it is. “Apparently there’s been an emergency, and I’m expected to head back to my school.”

Quentin nods. “Okay.”

“Not because I want to -,”

“Okay,” Quentin repeats, reaching out with one hand and touching Eliot’s forearm, “I get it. Emergencies.” He shrugs in a what-can-you-do manner.

Except, beneath that totally understanding look, Eliot can see that he doesn’t understand at all. He can see the flash of hurt in his eyes, as they flicker over Eliot’s shoulder to where Penny had been standing. Eliot eyes him for a moment, before taking a step closer to him, and leaning down. “I just want to make it clear,” he says, soft and slow as Quentin looks up at him through his eyelashes, “That as soon as everything’s done with this,” He waves a hand flippantly, “situation, I’m going to call you, and we’re going to finish this day off. Even if its not until tomorrow.”

Or next week. Eliot doesn’t know how long until he’ll be let out, if everything as serious as Penny’s making it seem.

Quentin nods, and Eliot gently grabs both of his elbows as he leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m serious,” he adds, whispering the words into his ear, “If I call you and you don’t answer because you’re moping, I will be forced to go on a full on stalking mission. I’ll make missing person posters if I have to.”

“Okay,” Quentin says, chuckling as he pulls away, but there’s a small smile on his lips, that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I think your boyfriend’s tired of waiting,” He adds, nodding behind him. “He’s scowling.”

Eliot blinks. Did he just? Did he just call Penny his -, “Whoa, no,” He starts, but Penny’s storming towards them, and grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait one fucking second.” Eliot hisses at him, turning back to Quentin, “I think you’ve jumped to an insane - and wrong, so very wrong - conclusion, here, Q.”

“It’s fine,” Quentin murmurs, taking a step back and pulling his arms out of Eliot’s hands.

“No - no it -,”

“Eliot,” Penny says, again, “We need to leave now. I’m not getting locked out because of whatever the fuck this is.”

Eliot whips back around, glaring at him. “Mind your own god damn business, and wait one fucking second or I swear to god,” He stops, clenching his jaw as he points a finger at him, before turning back around, to find Quentin is already walking away. “Fuck, fuck -,” But before he can rush after him, Penny’s clapping a hand over his shoulder, and they’re back in the physical kids cottage. “Fuck!” He exclaims as he finds himself face to face with Margo instead of Eliot’s retreating back. He turns around, casting a spell through the air, but before he can finish it and send a fire ball sailing through the air at Penny’s head, Margo grabs his arms and pulls him around to face her.

“We don’t have time for you to kill Penny,” She says, arching a perfect brow. “He probably deserves it,” She nods her head with the words, “But not today. Kay?”

“No, not -,”

“Eliot,” Alice interrupts, “Whatever the problem is, we have bigger problems. All of us. Including you, so maybe, just,” She waved a hand as he turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. “Let it go for now.”

Penny laughs, “He’s just pissed because I interrupted his date with Coldwater.”

Alice’s eyes go wide, and Margo purses her lips.

“I was not on a date,” Eliot retorts, glaring, “Margo, tell them.”

She blinks, slow, precise before throwing her hands up and flopping down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s a game,” She says, folding her hands overtop her knees. “Eliot’s just trying to seduce him.”

“Quentin’s straight,” Alice says.

“Yeah, maybe in planet bizarro,” Penny mutters, leaning against the wall by the door.

Penny’s right about something, for once. A small part of Eliot wants to jump off the top of the building for agreeing with him - even on something as small as this.

Eliot takes a deep breath, straightens out his vest and sits down on the couch next to Margo. He looks at each of them, individually, before turning his gaze on Alice. “Well?” He asks, leaning forward and picking up the pack of cigarettes sitting on the table. “What’s the big emergency?” Cool, calm and poised, that’s all he has to be.

And then he can get back to what’s important - fulfilling his promise. And removing any trace of any one person - including Quentin - thinking he would ever, could ever, be dating Penny. The thought makes him want to vomit. Because, yes, Eliot maybe be a morally ambiguous dick eighty percent of the time, but he doesn’t go out of his way to punish others for his mistakes.

He leaves any and all punishments for himself, thank you very much.

“It’s actually a good thing,” Margo starts, “That you’ve been keeping an eye on our dear Quentin.”

Penny scoffs.

Eliot eyes her for a moment, pulling out a cigarette and flicking the cigarette box shut, setting it back on the table as he sits back up. “Why?” He asks, careful, as he lights a cigarette with a snap of his fingers. “Just last week you were saying something else entirely, if I recall correctly.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re seriously still upset about that?”

“Is Todd still alive?”

“Yes.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke softly billow around them before answering. “Then, yes.”

“Would you just tell him what you told us and get this shit over with?”

Margo’s eyes snap over to Penny, glaring at him. “Nobody asked you to speak,” She says, soft, though there’s a bite to the words that’s almost palpable, “So don’t, kay?” She smiles at him, all teeth, before turning her attention back on Eliot. “Does Quentin remember anything?”

“We’ve been over this,” Eliot murmurs, “He doesn’t remember anything.”

“Pity.”

Alice clears her throat. “The beast,” She says, pausing to swallow, “He took over the mind and body of an alumni. He came here with the express interest of killing Quentin,” She shrugs, twisting her hands around in her lap, and looking down at them with a furrowed brow, “Then he found out Quentin’s no longer a student here, and killed six people in the library before,” She pauses again, “Before somebody was able to banish him.”

Eliot wills his heart to stop racing. “What does that have to do with Ibiza? And me, for that matter?”

“Dean Fogg was afraid that the beast would hunt down current students in an effort to find Quentin. Because, somehow, he knows that Quentin, uhm, has friends here.”

Margo smirks, slow, “Eliot, you’re the reason Ibiza got cancelled,” She murmurs, resting her elbow on the back of the couch, “You really hate Todd, don’t you?”

“Can we not make jokes about this?” Alice asks, shrill. “This is kind of important.”

“Hey, I’m totally fine with the beast killing Quentin. Then, maybe he’ll stay the fuck out of my head,” Penny grins.

Margo leans forward, so she can look across Eliot at Penny, “Didn’t we just discuss you not speaking?”

“I speak when I want, I don’t need some prissy little -,”

“You don’t want to finish that sentence.” Margo interrupts, sneering, “Because I promise, it will be your last. And do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll find a way to feed you to the beast myself.”

Alice jumps up, Eliot watches her as she paces back and forth before turning towards them and pointing, “Would you people stop fighting just once so we can figure out a way to work through this?”

He rolls his eyes, leaning his head back on the back of the couch as he brings his cigarette back to his lips. “Quentin doesn’t even know magic exists,” He says after a few moments, “The beast can’t track him.” No magical signature, no magic to trace. And since Quentin is so completely oblivious to everything outside of his family and the hedge bitch, he’s not about to go on remembering what they wiped.

Besides, Eliot’s worked really hard to make this a slow, deliberate seduction, and he’s not about to turn around now so these assholes can fuck it all up. Quentin doesn’t need any of them getting involved in his life. They’ll just end up getting him killed, and then where will Eliot be?

“But he can track you.” Alice says.

Oh.

Well that does put a bit of a dent in Project Seduce Quentin Coldwater. But Eliot’s no quitter. He looks up at her, taking a drag from the cigarette as he appraises her. She was the reason Quentin was gone. Her and Penny and Kady - wherever the fuck she was. But she hadn’t faced any consequences for her stupid little summoning spell. “Tell you what,” Eliot says, standing up, “When I care about whether or not the beast is going to kill me, I’ll let you know. Until then, I have more important things to do.”

Margo grabs his hand and yanks at it, until he’s falling back on the couch ungracefully. “No. This is the most important thing right now, and none of us are leaving this cottage until we figure out a way to keep the beast from tracking us. Because we’re around each other so much, that if he tracks you, he’ll track us, and then we’re all dead.” She narrows her eyes, “Your little pet project? It’s on hold. Indefinitely.”

“Margo -,”

“I know a spell that can lock us inside,” Alice says, sitting back down. Eliot turns his glare on her, “If anybodies unwilling to go forward with protecting all of us. I can make sure nobody leaves. Forced compliance is just as good as willing help.”

Penny laughs.

“This is ridiculous.” Eliot says. They can’t fucking force him to stay in the Cottage. They know damn well they can’t beat the beast, so this is all futile. They know it as well as he does.

Margo watches him for a moment before her eyes tick across the room and she nods at Alice. “Do it.”

“What?”

Margo smiles apologetically at Eliot, “Sorry, babe. But we can’t have you running off to Quentin right now.”

“That’s not -,”

“For fucks sake,” Penny mutters, “You’re not going anywhere. Get the fuck over it.”