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Elliot Bordeaux

Your wish is my command...

0 · 937 views · located in The Ruins

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by FizzGig

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A brotherhood committed to the relocation of demons and other hazardous creatures. WARNING: Members are armed and extremely spontaneous.

Description

Elliot Bordeaux

Image

If you’re a wisher…

A hoper…

A trier…

A magic bean buyer…

If you could wish it or want it, you win

Come in, Come in.

So begins...

Elliot Bordeaux's Story

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#, as written by FizzGig
Elliot loved perusing public places at odd hours. She like seeing what others didn't, not only because she had the Sight to do so, but also because she had a sense of patience quite unlike the majority of her mortal counterparts. The woman was a curiosity, a rarity, a jewel wrapped in the figure of a wouldn't-glance-twice-at female. She wasn't unattractive, but she wasn't particularly pretty either. She certainly wouldn't draw attention to herself in a crowded room.

Thus, her entrance into the empty bar was of no consequence. She simply walked in, her steps confident and sure. She carried no weapons, and wore no clothing of exotic origin. She merely clad herself in jeans, flats, and a lavender blouse, though, her red pea-coat covered most of that.

As she glanced around, she pursed her lips, nodding in approval before selecting a table closer to the back, where she could have a better view of the door, and the people coming inside it.

Elliot loved people-watching.

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#, as written by FizzGig
She drew up a little straighter in her chair, green eyes brightening at the prospect the newcomer provided. Though she still wasn't very sure of how she would proceed, she took her time looking over the other figure. He had a man's stature, though most of his body was covered by a worn robe. The sword at his side was a beautiful weapon, something Elliot could admire. While she carried no weapons (that could be seen), she had some knowledge of blades. If she had to pick a favorite, they would certainly be it.

What truly caught her attention though, was the sound of his labored breathing. Now, concern more than curiosity drove her to stand, to walk over and gently approach the man from his right side.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you," she began, holding out a hand to hover over his shoulder, "...but are you alright?" She seemed to think, from the sound of his breath, that he might be injured.

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#, as written by FizzGig
Elliot startled, her eyes widening as she did her best not to appear rude. She fought the urge to take a cautionary step backwards.

Having had little experience with those who were ill, she was no person to judge whether or not the man had an ailment, or simply was the way that he was. Instead of speaking, she drew her hand away, letting her other hand linger over the table he sat at before sweeping her fingers towards the back of the nearest chair. She nudged it out, and carefully lowered herself to sit.

Compelled to help, even to a fault, she paused to re-assess the situation. Though she'd sat uninvited at his table, there was still the fact that he'd said not a word since her approach. Debating asking him again, she rested her arm on the table, the ring on her left hand pulsing with the beat of, not her heart, but his.

She angled her head to better look into his sunken eyes. "Well?"

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#, as written by FizzGig
Once again, she found herself surprised to speechlessness. The man was mute!

Feeling a small sense of shame for jumping to conclusions so quickly, she nodded her understanding, looking around the room before lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "This place is called Gambits," she said, leaning forward to prop her chin in her hand. "It's a gathering place, a wonderful location to meet new people. Creatures of all kinds come here, it's rather remarkable."

She noted the deep gauges in the walls, old scars left by long-forgotten battles. "This place has housed conflict and romance. There are many secrets in these walls." She then smiled, holding out a hand for him to shake.

"I'm Elliot, by the way."

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#, as written by FizzGig
Nodding her understanding, Elliot smiled, standing from the table and walking over to the bar counter. She retrieved a napkin from one of the dispensers, and worked on unbuttoning her peacoat. Inside, a pocket that lined the interior of the jacket held a couple of pens. She withdrew one, and set both down on the table in front of him.

"I don't make a habit of carrying paper with me," she explained. "But this should do."

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As she watched him write, she stared at his hand in fascination, her brow knitting together as she noted the way the man seemed to marvel over his own writing. Swiping her tongue over her bottom lip, she leaned forward, drawing the napkin away from him so she could have a better look at it.

Slowly, her hand lifted, fingertips pressing to her bottom lip as she frowned. How...how very curious.

"Maurizio." she said, her tongue carrying the word smoothly. She watched him, something like pity reflected in her eyes. "Your name matters to me." she said quietly, sliding the napkin back over to him.

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She ducked to the side, her eyes wide as she scooted her chair back, staring at the man with an incredulous expression on her face. "I...I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

It was possibly the first time in her life that someone had assaulted her in such a way. It didn't physically hurt, but it did sting. Her face, like a mirror to her feelings, reflected that injury.

"Should I go?"

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#, as written by FizzGig
Hunger.

She'd know that from anywhere. Still caught up in a whirlwind of confusion from his previous action, Elliot hesitantly rose to her feet, nodding her understanding before drifting away towards the bar counter. She slipped between a red-headed figure, and still another quiet patron sitting at the bar, and placed an order. Soup and a sandwich, nothing too terribly fancy.

Upon her return, she set it down between them, pushing the tray closer to him while she kept a watchful eye on his face.

Though her expression was rather plain, she was being careful, almost wary. She didn't want him throwing the hot soup at her too.

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#, as written by FizzGig
If Elliot had not been perplexed before, she certainly was now. Not just perplexed, but even frightened. When she saw the man slump, she was already half-way out of her seat, on her way over to him as he gasped and tried to rip the mask off of his face.

"Oh no no no," she gasped, grasping the mask where his hands were and trying to help him remove it.

"Breathe, come on." Goodness who would have thought that eating would have become such a traumatic experience?!

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#, as written by FizzGig
Oh for Heaven's sake...

She tried to smile back, but her own face had gone white, her stomach churning with disgust as she observed the hose that lay in a pile in the man's lap. She set the mask down on the table, wiping her hands on the tops of her jeans as she took a step back, still gazing at him in horrified wonder.

"Are you alright then?" she asked. There was a part of her that really didn't want to stick around to watch him eat.

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#, as written by FizzGig
"I'm fine." She sounded like she was in a daze. Stepping back, she returned to her seat, still wide-eyed as she attempted to recover from what she had just seen. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and turned to give him a reassuring smile.

She certainly could not look at him for too long though. A shudder ran up her spine. "Why did you have that thing," she gestured to the hose, "...in your mouth?" Down your throat? In your stomach? What could possibly have been the purpose of that?

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"It seems that way." she replied, calming down a little now that he'd stopped eating. "I don't know too much about this place. But such a large variety of people come here, it would only make sense."

She shifted uncomfortably. "How did you get to be this way? The thing inside you...how did it get there?"

He was not the only one with a Thing residing in his physical body. Elliot was all too aware that she and the old man across from her had far more in common than she originally thought.

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#, as written by FizzGig
Don't I know that much, she thought to herself, her lips pursing as she listened to him explain the truth behind the hose. Even if it was only partially true, it didn't make it any less disconcerting.

"None of us ever know what we really want." she replied quietly, looking away from him. "And if we do, we don't realize the cost of such things."

Nobody ever understood just what was at stake. Not until they had to face payment, and didn't she hate being the collector?

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"Just a vessel," she replied. "A servant, but a pretty one, to distract from what lies within." She smiled, a flat expression, and the green of her eyes began to glow. That red ring that sat on her finger pulsed with her heart-beat, faster and faster still, the light flashing on the underside of her chin.

The hobo had her wondering. Everything had her wondering. When he paused to look her way, she straightened, her eyes suddenly as flat as a pane of glass. When she caught him licking his lips...she found that she was licking hers as well.

She looked away, a flash of alarm spreading across her face. She put her face into her hands, groaning softly under her breath as she fought to control her suddenly whirling thoughts.

"There's more to everyone. It's what I've learned. The most gallant man could be a completely worthless git, and even the greatest cravens can find true courage in themselves." What was she? A pretty face, a soul forced to servitude by something far greater than what she and her weak mind could understand.

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Maurizio was proving to be a challenging fellow with which she could enjoy shared company. She wasn’t so sensitive as to storm off in a huff at the poorly delivered insult, but her confusion was redoubled at his sudden (this time verbal) attack. She found herself staring, incredulity making her face contort with the expression. She only looked away when he muttered under his breath about a leech, and her eyes found Cro.

There was something about Cro that was more than off to her. While the Thing inside did little to provide insight into the minds of the people she met, she couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that crawled through her stomach as her eyes settled on Cro’s face, slipping over his figure, observing the limp, the state of his clothing. She adjusted her pea-coat more securely around her torso, unwilling to stand or even meet the other man’s eyes for more than just a few seconds.

In spite of herself, she offered him a chair at their table. The way he loomed over her made her extraordinarily uncomfortable. She scooted her own chair more towards the seven-o-clock point of the table, with Maurizio sitting at high noon. She didn’t want to be any closer to him than necessary either.

“Can I offer you a drink?” she asked the newcomer.

The fact that she could maintain any semblance of propriety through the revulsion was a marvel.

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#, as written by FizzGig
"I'm happy enough." Elliot replied, keeping her hands in her lap for the moment. "I've run into hard times like any other person. Nothing particularly remarkable." She gave Maurizio a sidelong glance, her eyes widening in sudden horror when she realized what he was about to do.

Oh no. No no no no no no!

"Tell me about yourself!" she said, a bit louder than necessary as she turned towards Crow, intentionally averting her eyes in order to avoid the unappetizing prospect of watching the man swallow his tube.

Oh heavens she hadn't signed up for this.

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She met Cro’s eyes, her own wide, fixed on his. As he leaned closer, she found herself leaning in just slightly, her head turning, ears drinking in the soothing balm of his words.

(All of this happened while Maurizio fed himself the tube. Jesus Christ what a motley bunch they made.)

She was about to open her mouth to speak, but then something rather strange occurred. A word slipped out, but it was cut short, as though someone had firmly clamped their hand on her throat. The flashing red ring began to glow with a steady, burning light, and her eyes matched with a green intensity that was hard to ignore.

She all but threw herself back in her chair, gasping once, crying out as her head jerked to one side in a Turret’s-like convulsion. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, lids fluttering, the underside of her chin and her throat exposed for a moment, pulses plain along the length of her neck.

When her face finally rolled back to center, she was grinning, not smiling, but grinning, and it was a ferocious, feral, ugly expression. Her eyes now burned a deep crimson, and the ring on her finger was flat, the stone a dull, weathered emerald.

“Disgusting little creature, aren’t you?” she croaked, suddenly sitting with her back ram-rod straight. “Worm of the universe. Your putrid words might have some small affect on the weak one’s mind, but my consciousness you will not touch.”

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As Cro began to have his aggressive meltdown, Elliot merely sat there and smiled, slowly and steadily rising from her chair as the hands at her sides clawed towards her palms. She began to laugh, a wicked, throaty chuckle as Cro practically boiled with his rage.

Ugly. Ugly and warped. As the colors dripped off of his face, she sneered, licking her lips slowly and dramatically. “Tantrums are so unbecoming,” she said under her breath, bracing herself as Cro launched himself at her.

But the table came between them, shattering explosively and sending her careening backwards. She flipped over her chair, sending it to the floor as she rolled.

“Cry all you want!” she laughed. “You should try eating your own disappointment,” she snapped waspishly. Her lip curled. “Don’t you know that every desire comes with consequences?” A bloody gash had opened up on her brow, as red and bright as his waxy drippings.

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"Your arrogance is a fabrication of what real mortals feel!" Elliot catcalled, stumbling to her feet and drawing a hand roughly over her brow. Her palm came away bloodstained, and she looked not more than annoyed. She took a step back as Cro shuffled forward, her lip curling with disgust as she almost playfully swatted his hand away.

"Look at you making this awful scene. I bet you love every minute of it. It must be maddening that you can't get what you really want!" She took another step backwards, her eyes sliding over to Maurizio.

"And what is it you truly desire?" she suddenly said in a purr, her gaze flickering from the shrunken old man to the monster before her. She wasn't speaking to the human, however, but the power that drove him with maddening intensity.

"I can give it to you. If it's a body of your own, it's yours, one that will not waste away. But you will have to pay a price for it." So long as he helped her. And what she said was true.

His wish was her command.

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Horrible, wicked, ugly thing. Elliot stumbled back as a large amount of the stuff smacked against her chest. She found herself knocked to the ground again, crying out as she struggled to rip the stuff off of her pea-coat. Finding sudden inspiration, she slipped the jacket off, kicking it away from her roughly before tearing the remainder away from her.

She was tired, moreso than she should have been. She leaned back against the nearest table, eyes rolling to the back of her head for a moment. The ring on her hand pulsed, angry and red, and her eyes returned to their natural green.

She stared with sudden, newfound horror at the mess before her, lifting her arms to guard her face as Max came forward with the fire-lance in hand.

“Holy shit!” she cried, looking over to Mourizio. “What did I miss?!”

There were spots erupting behind her eyes. She didn’t realize that more of that goop had attached itself to her. Her eyes fluttered weakly as she slipped to her knees, pressing her palms to her face as she tried to keep herself awake.

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