33 Apocalypse Ave, Saturday Afternoon

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

"Eliot, this isn't funny anymore."

He hadn't come back yesterday. He still wasn't responding to texts. And Margo had no idea why, besides the dawning terror that Fillory had gotten its hooks in him again and left her behind.

So now she was here, curled up into herself and tiny on the stairs, begging into the phone. If she hadn't had this entire stupid big house to herself, if there had been anyone who could see her, she'd-- She'd not be here like this. It was humiliating.

"Come on, El," she mumbled into the phone. "Talk to me. Please. Let me know where you are."

But no. It just went to fucking voicemail.

[[ open if you have a reason to stop by or call, as always. ]]

Comments

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo stared at him.

Was it staring? Her eye was big and her face looked-- desperate? Desolate? Both?

"Shit, what if he's in Fillory?" she whispered. "Fuck."

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

"I, um. I'm not sure I'd be able to tell." Please don't be upset, Margo, it was unsettling and Jon didn't know what to do if you weren't being snarky and angry.

"But, um. There are other people missing, too. So...so it might just be a Fandom thing."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

A Fandom thing.

Well. At least Margo was beginning to claw her way back to the angry. “A Fandom thing,” she growled. “What in the name of Cheese Panda fuckery is happening, Jon?”

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

Jon tried. He reached out in that way he hated and actively tried again to see where Eliot was. He pushed the Eye as far as he could.

And eventually had to wince and say his least favorite words at the moment. "I don't know."