on a sunny tuesday

He’s hit with the taste of opium, and the sweet, hickory scent of the Fillorian woods. Magic swells up within him, dances along his fingertips, and up into the air all around him. He feels his smile inch wider; even more so when he looks to his right and see’s the meadow. And beyond that—the cottage. Three little kids are running around chasing one another in the front of it, and Quentin’s sitting on the ground with a baby, smiling hopelessly at her, while she gurgles and laughs, tugging at his beard. Teddy comes from around the side of the cottage, holding a stack of freshly washed mosaic tiles, his wife trailing after him, content smiles on both their faces.This is Eliot’s happy place. He swallows, before making his way over. The leaves and twigs beneath his feet crunch and crack, giving him away. And before he knows it, three excited screams are directed at him, and he’s got a child attached to each leg, hugging him tight like a viper, and one holding her arms up at him, hands opening and closing; yelling for him to pick her up.  ---Or, Eliot relives a memory.