logsinthenight | funnel cake or bust

Entry tags:

funnel cake or bust

characters: Eliot Waugh & OPEN
location: The Amusement Park
date/time: Second week-ish of March/a few days after the park's discovery.
content: You know, just a casual day at a weird fair.
warnings: Potential fun being had.

[ Now that Midge seems to be gone, Eliot feels odd staying inside the cabin. Not because he feels like he doesn't belong there, but because it had been nice to have someone around all the time. He appreciates consistency and routine more than he'll ever admit. But, he's a grown up (allegedly), and shit happens and you just have to deal with it when it does.

So rather than sit around in the dark cabin, drinking up Midge's wine, Eliot decides to just go out. He hopes he can meet more people, or maybe even people that already know him from his apparent first time here. Or maybe it's just nice to not sit around a dark house for a bit.

Either way, he can't really resist the appeal of checking out the newly found amusement park. ]

➼ i. DEEP FRIED GOODNESS

[ Is it even a carnival without the food?

Eliot doesn't consider himself athletically inclined enough for games, and if the rides were working he probably wouldn't really trust them. But food? Food he can definitely do, and food he definitely will do. He wanders around the food carts, pleasantly surprised at the normalcy of it all. The spirits seem eager to please, too, trying to lure him into their own specific delicacies.

Okay, so he ends up with a candied acorn that he gently discards when he's out of sight of the spirit who'd given it to him, but there it is. The Holy Grail of amusement park cuisine - funnel cake. And it's real, and there's no battered sticks or leaves, just fluffy, golden goodness with a sprinkling of powdered sugar.

This alone was probably worth coming out here. ]

➼ ii. FUN AND GAMES

[ He's got his funnel cake, so he decides to go see the games. Not that he'll actually play them, but Eliot has to admit he's curious to see what sort of prizes Beacon has on offer. He's not expecting anything amazing, but maybe, sort of, he's hoping for a surprise. Like something useful or something from home.

No. Instead there appear to be fish bowls, bullets, and foliage-stuffed plushies.

Okay, the stuffed animals are sort of cute.

The spirit manning the booth seems to catch on to Eliot looking at them, too, because it's urging him over. Apparently, it doesn't really take no for an answer, despite Eliot knowing he's got no chance. He sighs as he shoves the last of his funnel cake into his mouth and gets a handful of rocks to throw at the bottles.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't win. He does manage to at least knock one bottle over, but Eliot had avoided sports as a rule during his formative years. He shrugs, and feels sort of bad that the spirit seems to be sad he didn't win. ]

Maybe next time.

➼ iii. TAKE ME FOR A RIDE

[ It's probably good that the rides aren't working. Eliot side-eyes the roller coaster as he goes by it. A ride that's basically assisted suicide? That seems pretty on brand for this place, and it makes him think that he doesn't really want to try any of the others if they ever do get powered up.

Who knows what's lurking inside the Haunted House?

It doesn't stop him from standing there, looking at the defunct rides. ]

Do you think when they work, they light up?

[ Because - What's the point of a Tunnel Of Love if it's just pitch black inside and you can't see shit? But if this all were to light up the way an amusement park should, it'd be insane. Eliot wonders how far the glow would cast. ]

➼ iv. WILDCARD

Choose your own amusement park shenanigans.

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Consider me impressed.

[ He smiles, teasing, but he really is. It's not the gun firing that makes Quentin hot, because Eliot isn't really about that, but it's the fact that Quentin could do it at all. That, in a pinch, Quentin really could keep him safe.

He plucks one of the bullets from Quentin's hand. ]

We might. Maybe we can trade it for something, or melt them down.

There's gunpowder in there.

[Quentin points out, rolling one of them between his fingers and he stuffs the rest in to his pocket. Not that he knows a lot about bullets, but the fact that they have something highly explosive inside of them is one of those few things.

Say...]

We could build a bomb? Or, yeah. Melt them down to something less lethal?

[Where to next, because the rides are all dark. Well, okay, so all of Beacon is dark but these rides are even darker. Most of them just gaping dark holes in the sparse light from their lanterns, but it's still kind of nice. To just walk without a clear goal in mind.]

Hey, do you think they have corn-dogs somewhere around here?

[ Eliot's not completely ruling out the possibility they might need to make a bomb. ]

There are definitely corn dogs. I saw them when I was looking for funnel cakes. Follow me.

[ Not that Eliot gives Quentin much of a choice. He's wrapping an arm around Quentin's shoulders and leading him off to the stalls where the smell of fried food is coming from. ]

[With the scent of fried foods and open flames, the flickering of the light and the warm weight of Eliot's arm around him-- this could almost be normal.

If he squints. It's normal adjacent and really, that's more than enough for now and Quentin lets the golden glow from their lanterns light the way towards the food.

Until... the light from his starts to bleed a deep red and in that split-second when he sees it and before the pain hits, he pushes away from Eliot, both hands clasped to his face. The pain is still the worst, like needles pushing their way through his skin and he huffs with it, eyes screwed shut against it and when the first tentacles wriggle their way past his fingers, Quentin collapses to the ground on his knees.]

Shit--

[It takes minutes before the pain recedes enough for him to make much noise, except for curses and grunts, his lantern is cracked and throwing everything in to a red light by his side.]

[ It is nearly normal, and while Eliot had said it's not a date it sort of feels like in some other world, in some other life, it could be one. Which is enough for him, because he's an expert on taking what he can get, but his content mood fades away pretty quickly. ]

Quentin? Quentin!

[ Something isn't right. Eliot tries to reach for Quentin, to see what's wrong and what he can do, to try and help save Quentin from something that Eliot is oblivious to. But it's hard to see in the dark. The lanterns don't cast a wide glow and the red light suddenly emanating from Quentin's lantern is horrifying but makes it even harder to see properly.

Except that Eliot thinks he sees something moving, and, please God, don't let this be a fucked up Alien moment.

By the time Quentin is on his knees, Eliot's moving close again, forgetting about caution. When he reaches out he expects to find Quentin's hand to move from his face, to grip in his own and offer some sort of steadfast comfort. Instead, he finds something wiggly and definitely not human. ]

Jesus Christ - [ Eliot recoils, drawing his hand back and taking a few steps back. ] - What the fuck is going on, Q?

[The blinding pain fades, like it always does, leaving his face feeling like it's suffering from a hangover except for how chugging water won't help at all. He stays down, face tilted to the ground and he doesn't remove his hands.

Quentin shakes his head.

He felt it, because of course the fucking tentacles feel like his face feels things. Heat or cold or the sharp bite of a razor and it's not because he hadn't tried to cut them off before. So many times. He'd hold one up by the bathroom mirror, straight-razor poised and that first cut was the fucking worst. And the tentacles just grew back.

So, what's the point.

He felt Eliot reach out and the instant-recoil after that, and he just stays, shoulders hunched and head bowed.]

I'm fine, El. It's nothing. Just, uh, I don't think I want a corndog anymore.

[Deep even breathes and every word sounds warped, from his hands and from the curtain of tentacles he's desperately trying to hide.]

You can go back. It's fine.

[ Well, Eliot's already established this place is fucked up. And, yeah, feeling something wriggling when you're not expecting it is alarming, but Quentin is his friend. Well, he's more than that, but it's complicated, and suddenly Eliot feels a pang of guilt for the way he reacted. Because this isn't new to Quentin. Quentin isn't freaking out, he's resigned, and maybe Eliot's made it worse.

He sucks in a breath and kneels down beside Quentin. ]

H- Hey.

[ Eliot presses his lips together and his brow furrows. He still has no idea what the fuck is happening, just that neither of them would ever ditch the other.

He reaches over to gently squeeze the back of Quentin's neck. ]

It'd be a pretty shitty fake date if we didn't leave together.

[ He attempts a slight smile. ]

[Usually, when Quentin stalls in answering, it's because he doesn't know what to say or how to say it. When the words just won't come or they come all at once and it takes him a second to get it all straight in his head before he opens his mouth.

He doesn't always remember to wait that second, and that's when the words get weird and tangled up, coming it stutters and false starts.

The other times, is when he knows exactly what he wants to say and how to say it, and he just can't. Because quite honestly, there's no way in hell Eliot would want to hear a our first date will end so much better than this from him right now. Or possibly ever.

The tentacles squirm in embarrassment under his palms and Quentin huffs, hating and loving how much that hand on the back of his neck actually helps.

This is Eliot.]

Promise me you won't run. Or laugh.

Quentin.

[ Eliot sighs out the name, like he's exasperated, but he's clearly just playing around a bit. Trying to lighten the mood. ]

I literally watched you grow old and grow the worst beard in the history of beards, and I never once ran or laughed. Okay, I laughed a bit, but I didn't run no matter how many times I thought about it. I think I can handle this.

[Okay, so. Eliot remembers the third key, and any other day, Quentin would have been able to take some kind of comfort in that.]

This isn't a beard, and-and really, the grandkids thought it looked great, so there.

[But he does sit back on his heels, looking up. The blood-red light of his lantern turns the carnival rides in to creepy shadows and he pulls his hands away. The tentacles writhe and twist as if they're trying to hide themselves.]

It just, uh. It just happens sometimes?

[ Eliot smiles a little more at the mention of their grandkids, but it fades pretty quick when Quentin moves his hands. Though Eliot does a good job of not recoiling again, thank you very much.

He does frown, though, and spends a few hard moments just looking at Quentin. ]

You look an extra in Pirates Of The Caribbean.

[For one heartbeat, Quentin just sits there and he sucks in a startled breath and laughs. Just a little.

It's hard, being looked at when his face looks like this, but the tentacles wave at Eliot a little enthusiastically before settling down.]

That's... not what I expected you to say. But- you're not wrong.

It, uh. Really brings out your eyes.

[ Eliot looks equal parts amused and confused, but he stands up, taking Quentin's hand to pull him up as well. ]

So. This happens a lot here? To everyone or just - You know. You?

What? That's- nevermind.

[He lets himself get pulled to his feet, and as soon as he's somewhat upright, Quentin pulls away a little.]

I haven't seen them on anyone else, but. That doesn't mean it's just me. I've seen the lanterns, though. Do that thing? [he gestures to it and the tentacles curl up in to little balls before relaxing again.] Where it looks like it's going to break? Other people had that. Some, uh, someone saw things that weren't there.

That's moderately reassuring.

[ Eliot just doesn't think that he can pull off the tentacle look.

He looks at Quentin's lantern, the deep red colour, and then glances at his own. Thankfully it's still normal. When he looks back at Quentin, he feels oddly inclined to take Quentin's hand again. He doesn't, but it feels like he should. ]

Well, I guess that's our day at the fair done. Want me to walk you home?

Huh?

[Quentin tries to ignore the feeling of tentacles sliding against his lips every time he opens his mouth. The heavy weight of them on his face and how profoundly stupid he must look like this.

The tentacles seem less likely to get with the program of just calming the fuck down and wriggle enthusiastically at Eliot. He slams his hand down on them, forcing them to just. stop. doing. that.]

No, it's fine. This really isn't the first time this has happened to me and I'm fine. They'll go away in a couple of hours.

[Usually. Like there's ever anything usual about anything in this place, except for maybe suffering and Quentin sighs.]

But... since you're not running for the hills or looking like you want to maybe throw up a little, we can keep going. Maybe we'll find something that will help light this place up. [He gestures one-handed at the rest of the carnival, keeping one hand clasped over the mess on his face.]

They're, uh. Very friendly.

[ And very weird. And Eliot won't lie and say it isn't sort of shocking every time he looks at Quentin, he's not going to be scared off. It's still Quentin. Speaking of - Okay, he's going to hold Quentin's hand, but it's under the guise of moving Quentin's hand away from his face. Then he can just forget to let it go, and it's fine. Friends hold hands. ]

It's not like I have anything better to do. If you were a big, creepy amusement park generator, where would you be?

Uh, yeah.

[They're like having a wriggling set of mood-rings attached to the face, and Quentin hates that. Hates that he can't even pretend to be cool and disinterested, not with the tentacles waving madly at Eliot every time he tries to move his hand away.

So, instead, he keeps his hand over his mouth and hums.]

Somewhere in the back, maybe? I mean, that's where I would put them. Close enough to use shorter cords but still far enough away, so drunks won't mess with them. Behind the rides.

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