🐇 fen waugh | the magicians

[consortial]

	✔ Cʀᴏssᴏᴠᴇʀs/AU ✔ Aᴄᴛɪᴏɴsᴘᴀᴍ ✔ Pʀᴏsᴇ	✔ Pɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛs ✔ Oᴛʜᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴅʟʏ ✔ Sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀs	♥ F/M, F/F ⏰ Uᴘ ᴛᴏ S4

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lmk if this works

[dramaquinn]

( qualtagh )

[ It's not a special day so much as a significant one: ten days since Quentin died in the mirror realm. Alice has never cared about Fillory much, but Quentin loved it. Loved it enough to save it, even, when no one else could. So, because she's started doing things like stealing from Brakebills and smoking cigarettes, she figures one more out of character thing isn't going to make much of a dent in her image. Grieving lovers are allowed to be off the rails, and honestly, as far as bad decisions go, going to Fillory by herself is one of her tamest.

Maybe she'll run into unicorns this time.

The grandfather clock lets her out into the woods. The opium in the air does little to lift her spirits, unable to compete against the weight of memory. How Quentin bad looked when they all first came here, how he knew exactly what needed to be done to move along the story, to move through the land and be where they needed to be. Every tree she walks past, every sight is a reminder.

Choking back a sob, Alice stops walking just a few yards from the edge of the woods and sinks slowly to her knees at the base of a tree. Okay, this was a bad idea, but at least she's alone out here. She's not so restrained now when she cries, but it's also a more hollow kind of crying. Like she's got no more tears and wailing left in her. Her sobs are quiet, barely disturbing the peace amid the trees, making snapping twigs sound distant and muted. She assumes there are talking animals around, and she's ready to call them assholes if need be. ]

Fuck Fillory, [ she murmurs, but it sounds muffled and damp, unclear even to her, and she's the one who said it. ]