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

[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.