it's a small world after all

[morethanhuman]

Once, Erik had gone through a door in the hotel and found himself in a desolate world. Ravaged by some horrible plague, it was a version of Earth that stood wrecked and empty, populated with shambling undead that lived on human flesh. It had been haunting and eerie, the zombies themselves downright terrifying. Even with his powers, he had barely made it back in one piece.

Standing in the midst of a crowded plaza, surrounded by screaming children wearing mouse ears and watching a grown man juggling an enormous plush fish and three cones of cotton candy, Erik found himself thinking maybe the zombies hadn't actually been that bad.

If he could only find the door back, he thought desperately, dodging a herd of tourists chattering rapidly in Japanese. It had to be here somewhere— he hadn't gone far from where he'd come through, but trying to find anything in this miasma of insanity was like looking for a needle in an entire field of hay. Harder, even; in his case, he could have used his powers to find the needle.

He was distracted from his own predicament by the sounds of a scuffle on the other side of the square, which drew not only his attention but that of a few other park wanderers. Curiosity got the better of Erik, and after a moment spent dithering, he headed toward the sounds of distress. Those sounds resolved themselves into words as he got within earshot, a stream of rapid-fire French invective heated enough to make Erik's eyebrows shoot toward the sky. The perpetrator was dressed like he was in costume himself, and engaged in a sort of pantomime dance with a six-foot tall Donald Duck, who kept waiting till the man's back was turned before knocking his oversized hat off his head. This, in turn sparked a fresh wave of ire from the man each time; Erik thought it was lucky no one else in the vicinity happened to speak French, or the man might find himself escorted from the premises.

Normally altruism wasn't in his repertoire, but Erik would have found himself just as furious in the Frenchman's position, and so decided to intervene, if only briefly. Lucky for him the costume had a sizeable number of staples holding the soles onto the great webbed feet; a flick of his fingers sent Donald crashing to the ground on his padded rear end. In the consternation and laughter that followed, Erik leaned in and grabbed the man by the elbow, hauling him off into the crowd before anyone— Donald included— was the wiser.

Comments

[armedagainstlove]

Athos plucked his hat up and regarded his savior with a look that implied that he was unsure if he was yet drunk. "Merci," he offers, though given the predilection for English around here, he switches easily enough, feeling rather shaken yet. "What on earth was that horrid thing?" Athos demands, thinking he could use a very large glass of red wine.

"And who are you?"

[morethanhuman]

Up close, Erik realized abruptly that he recognized the man— on a few of his near-daily visits to the Nexus's hotel bar with Jordan, he'd taken note of the man nursing a solitary drink, often with the entire bottle nearby to keep it company. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful that he wasn't alone here, or doubly fearful that they were trapped.

"De rien." Erik gave a thin smile along with his reply. "I'm Erik— I recognize you from the hotel. And that was Donald Duck," he said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder.

"This is Disneyworld," he added as the man gave him a quizzical look. Not that that seemed to help; it was obviously a staple of a world long after the Frenchman's time. Trying to explain Disney and animation was outside the realm of Erik's capabilities; he thought he'd be better off keeping it simple. "It's a— a park paying tribute to an artist of the twentieth century. The duck is one of his— subjects."

Just when I thought my life couldn't get more ridiculous...

[armedagainstlove]

Athos' replying look is blank and somewhat filled with disbelief, as though he simply would not actually believe such a thing. English is a strong language for him, but still his second and he believes that he isn't understanding half the words this man is saying. "I've managed to travel through time to a kingdom of an artist who has duck worshippers," Athos summarizes as best as he can.

"I know I'm not that drunk because I had only hours ago been training, but you're making quite the case for my inebriation," he feels inclined to point out. He bows his head, however, proper manners reminding him to give his name in kind. "I'm Athos."

[morethanhuman]

Erik couldn't help but grin at the man's confusion; he imagined anyone who hadn't heard of Disney and his creations would have the same reaction, but then, he'd never been particularly prone to wonder and awe, except where mutations were concerned. Certainly he found the phenomenon of amusement parks amazing only in the sense that he was amazed by how many people seemed eager to empty their pockets to visit them.

At least he wasn't alone in his bafflement. "I thought I might be hallucinating, too, when I first stepped through," he admitted. As they passed, he looked askance at another costumed performer, this one dressed as a toothy blue monster with round, black eyes. "Though maybe it would be easier to handle if I were intoxicated."

[armedagainstlove]

Athos raises his brow calmly, turning to his fresh companion now that he's had such a brilliant and admirable idea. "Say no more, I don't care what other ideas you have, that's your best," Athos informs him with a firm nod of his head. "We must find ourselves a bar or a pub or some other drinking establishment willing to sell me enough wine to drown away these images and the screams of children."

He has not heard such screams since someone was murdered outside Notre Dame.

[morethanhuman]

Erik nodded up the way where a familiar neon glow in a window proclaimed Corona was sold inside. "After you, then," he said.

The pub was cool and dim inside, only a handful of other patrons scattered among the tables. Taking a stool at the bar, the sun streaming in through the window and the polished wood under his hands, he was suddenly reminded of Argentina. Villa Gessel, the photo on the wall that had led him to Miami, to Shaw... he hadn't thought of that in years.

This bartender was a tired-looking girl, college-aged or thereabouts, who barely looked at them twice when Erik ordered a pitcher of beer and two glasses. "How long have you been stuck here?" he asked while they waited.

[armedagainstlove]

Here, too, the lights are offensively and drowning. Athos would give anything to return to the quiet, dank, miserable bars he frequents where a man could drink three to four bottles of wine in peace, only to wake up when the owner threw a bucket of icy water over your head. "Here? An unfortunate span of time. I believe it all began to drain away from me between the screaming and the unfortunately large stuffed creatures," Athos says with disdain, eyeing the pitcher with a raised brow.

He orders a bottle of wine to go with the ale, thinking that the one drink alone will not be enough. "And yourself? You seemed lucky enough to have only stumbled across that hell."

[morethanhuman]

Erik nodded. "I doubt I've been out of the hotel more than an hour." Though time did seem to pass strangely here— like being in a casino— though he couldn't have said whether that was a function of the park's atmosphere or the hotel's magic. The barkeep soon returned with Athos's wine and another two glasses, though Erik wasn't sure he needed to be drunk badly enough to mix the two. As long as the wailing children stayed outside, at least.

"It's not the worst place I've ended up after going through one of the doors," he admitted. "But it's close." At least he'd been able to eliminate the zombies without consequence— something told him decapitating park-goers with swords wouldn't be well received here.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos does not drink the wine lightly. There are long sips, a great relief taken in every gulp, and soon he is without a drink for he has made a habit of being able to drink two bottles without a single thing affecting him. It is only when he reaches three that it becomes dangerous.

"There are worse than this?" he wonders. "I don't see how."

[morethanhuman]

Erik's mouth quirked wryly. "Try running for your life from reanimated corpses with a taste for human flesh," he said. "It certainly puts things like this in perspective."

Though there were different kinds of terrors, he reflected, thinking of the world of dinosaurs that he had been to, now, twice. For some reason those scared him less, though they were certainly no less lethal.

"Those doors— one never quite knows what to expect, going through them."

[armedagainstlove]

With enough wine, Athos could see fit to cope with anything. After all, with Aramis and Porthos, he has been dragged through the most ridiculous of situations and he honestly does not put it past them to want to bring him to a world of reanimated corpses. If anyone can find a way, it will be them with d'Artagnan's aid. "I have slowly begun to understand that they seem inclined to lead me through to many other worlds, though this is on par with the last one I discovered. Las Vegas," he explains. "I believe I am unfortunately still married from that venture."

And now he has two dark-haired, sharp, and dangerous ex-wives. He is beginning to hoard them, unfortunately.