Lost and Found | Elijah -- Fey

Nothin' else seems to hurt
like the smile on your face

The chill was what came first. A familiar cold cast a field of goosebumps spreading over his arms. Elijah sniffed once as the man was soon pushing himself up off a bitterly cold stone floor. "The hell?" He muttered a soft inquiry as his eyes heavily blinked with surprise. This was a dream he almost humorously concluded as the world around him blurred into view. He must have passed out at his desk. Oh, Inés was going to be so annoyed when she realized that he'd fallen asleep on her reading a report to him again. It happened more often than the man cared to admit. Probably wouldn't even bother waking him up to express her exasperation. Chances were Elijah would wake up with drool on his desk and a blanket draped over him. A small grin stretched his lips as he thought to his assistant.

Annnnd would allow the grin to fall with a splat when his vision began to clarify enough to showcase his surroundings. As quickly as he'd confirmed he was dreaming, Elijah cursed under his breath. This wasn't a dream, this was a nightmare. The torch's lamp flickered as if in a medieval dungeon, casting grimmacing shadows through the bars. What sweet hell had his mind concocted this time? Gathering his feet beneath him he unconsciously shivered once more at the cool air. He usually didn't experience touch in his dreams where sight was also in play. This was ... this was odd. Shaking his head, Elijah fought to loosen the tightening in his chest.

"Hello?" Elijah called back in response to the female inquiry. It wasn't a familiar voice. "I'm here." The female presence didn't seem to know anymore than he did. "Just, hold on, hun. Hold on. Give me a second." The older magi curled up a fist with a sense of ease as reared it back, aiming for one of the bars. His voice was parent like, soothing. The other's voice expressed clear anxiety. "I'll get us out of --" The painful thunk that sounded as a shocked Elijah hissed, quickly the earth magi was shaking his hand in a state of disbelief. That bar should have popped out easily. Beyond easily. This was a piece of cake. He did'nt feel any grogginess or intoxication caused by downers. His fist meeting the metal bar with such a strict refusal had left him wide eyed and staring in astonishment. Not only had such an easy task been failed, it had hurt. Like, hurt hurt.

Elijah stared down to the throbbing knuckles. Why did that hurt? This much at that? This was ... This was a sort of dream he'd never experienced before. Since when did pain strike you that severely in a dream? Especially without startling you awake? "I ... Hold on, hun." He said again, shaking his hand continuously as his eyes swiftly caught sight of the keys. Pausing a moment the ground beneath him refused to even give Elijah a clearer view of the scene around him. The vibrations and waves that traveled through the ground that usually gave clear visuals were now muddied. Almost as if the earth itself were drunk. He didn't have time for this shit.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself while I work on this." He called, again, trying to create a sense of calm. An adult was there to take care of the situation. Panicking only proved to worsen situations. Not improve them. He had used similar techniques when rescuing children of his race from dangerous circumstances as well. "Why don't you tell me your name, hun? My name is Elijah." He said in the kindest tone he could muster as his hands gripped the metal bar with a brow furrowing sense of determination. This was going to take a while. But gods dammit, if he wasn't going to give it his damndest.

Nothin' else seems to hurt
like the smile on your face

Elijah paused in his actions at the response he was given. A harsh tone snapped back at him. It was a bit whiplashing to be honest. Just moments before the voice had been panicked, which was understandable given their unkind surroundings. But this, this crafted a small grin upon the man's face. "Alright, I'll try to catch myself from now on." Hun seemed to be a trigger word for the stranger under similar unfortunate circumstances. Noted. It was an old fashioned habit for the magi. Most younger women in his life tended to withhold from bristling at the term of endearment. And most magi he found himself rescuing didn't mind the term either, finding solace in not only being saved but at the very idea someone could care for them. Such was the sad mindset Hunters and other racist groups attempted to brainwash them with.

"Fey is a very pretty name." The grin softened at hearing the heavy sigh and change of tone. Frustration and fear had a way of shoving people into snappier moods. He didn't take it personally, it was the stress. That sigh proved it. "It's nice to meet you." Elijah added with a social ease as his eyes closed. Why was this so difficult? Those deep brown eyes of his were squeezed tightly in concentration as the metal bars slowly but surely began to bend. His arms shaking slightly from the effort of pulling them apart.

"So, uh ..." The man huffed quietly as he pulled at the bars again, his muscles straining as the bars slooooowly obeyed. "Do you know what's going on here? I mean ...." The man took a moment to breath, allowing his arms to relax. "I know you're just a figment of my imagination but ...." The man pulled at the bars again, teeth gritting at the effort. "It would be nice to know what hell my brain has ... come up with and why." Another forced yanking motion and the man would roll his shoulders, releasing the bars to shake them out. If the young woman had a reply to his odd questioning he would listen to it quietly. Pondering.

It would be here that Elijah would attempt to at least squirm his way through the widened bars. It would take a while. A few sounds of quiet struggling would probably escape his lips before his chest would slip through the other side. Soon followed by his lower half until the man was standing in the hall, rubbing the shoulder that had been last to squeeze through. Walking over to the opposite wall the older magi would collect the key ring before turning for the first time to the cell where the female voice originated from. It was funny that even with his sight in such dreams, he found himself still utilizing his hearing more than his eyes. Outside of dreams he hadn't had them for eight years now after all. However, before inserting the key and freeing the other, Elijah would ponder this Fey's verbal responses which I'm sure will cause a thought or two of concern.

Nothin' else seems to hurt
like the smile on your face

This Ms Fey was a young one, especially of one of their race. The young lady was a teenager, a twenty year old at best. An immediate reassuring soft smile would greet the fiery eyes of the new acquaintance. Fiery in both determination and hue. The girl's long hair gently caressed her curved horns with every motion it seemed. Not to mention the light whispery glow of the woman's skin. I mean, Elijah had assumed the newcomer was a magi to be in such a similar place as this with him. But it was nice to have that confirmed.

"Real?" Elijah stopped dead in his tracks, one of the two keys hovering just outside the other's door. "Well of course you think you're real." He dismissed the concept as he continued in the motion. This was reality, not a teenager's fantasy vampire story where two people could share in one dream. When the key refused to turn Elijah spun the keyring round once to attempt the second key. "And I'm not going to argue with an imaginary friend as to why they're not real. So listen up. Apparently my mind has a nightmare set up for me, probably due to the stress I've been under, and it's given you to help me get through it ... probably." The lock clicked as the man was then able to easily swing the barred door open, the hinges squeaking harshly.

The man sunk his hands into his jeans pockets with a sigh. Arguing with himself was just as annoying asleep as when he was awake. "So, come on. The sooner I wake up the sooner I can get back to work." And there he'd wait with what was soon a deteriorating sense of patience. The atheist had never heard of any sort of strange magic that would combine dreams of two "real" people. So the concept was not only foreign but highly unlikely. Surely something so intense would have been known of by now in today's modern age. 

Nothin' else seems to hurt
like the smile on your face

The murmerings would go unhead by Elijah. So when the sass and attitude came his way, the older magi stood there with furrowed brows. Being in a leadership position and having no romantic interest in his life anymore, he was by far not used to this sort of interaction anymore. Those dark brown eyes squinted momentarily to consider if this younger lady was his brain's messed up way of reminding him of Serena. His since passed wife had been one who was not shy about metaphorically slapping sense into him. Elijah could have a narrow view of the world. It was the subject of many a lecture with hands upon hips back then.

And yet, here he was.

Some teenager telling him to stop existing in his own snowglobe world. A teeny girl, in his own dream, was being snippity at him. "Mmmmhm." Would be his audible reply as his eyes watched this Fey leave her cell. Sure he had heard whisperings about people who claimed to share dreams with another living person. But ... come on. Seriously? Dreams were, at best, subjective sensations experienced whilst sleeping. A collection of perceived images, sounds, voices. It was the process of transferring memories from the hippocampus to the cerebral cortex. That was science. That was proven. The idea that one could skip through a field of strawberries with a loved one in a shared dreamscape? It was stupid. It was hopeful in the worst of ways. Same for those that felt their loved ones floated around them as ghosts, spending their "after life" moving keys and wallets around.

This snippity girl was nothing more than either a memory or a representation of something. Whatever personality she was equiped with wasn't choosing to be self-aware and logical about the situation. It believed itself to be, what? Real and him the imaginary friend in this equation? Fine, whatever. If the dream wasn't going to allow himself to be openly self-aware, then he'd play along to an extent. The sooner he woke up the sooner he could get back to work. "I'll keep that in mind." He would say, his tone flat but not out right disrespectful. Arguing would most likely only prolong his snooze. There was a war to fight. He didn't have time to sleep, psh.

Elijah's gaze would follow the other's, resting on the staircase. With it being the only entry/exit to this unwelcoming guest quarters, it was clear where they needed to go. "Well, since you're a self proclaimed non-fairy, would you like me to say "Ladies first"? Or would you like me to head out first?" Elijah would ask, his sarcasm much more watered down than how he was feeling at the moment as he began to take his first steps towards staircase. Darkness didn't scare him. He was used to darkness. What had him worried was the ground beneath him not allowing a clear view of the world around him through his sense of feel, as he used when awake.

Nothin' else seems to hurt
like the smile on your face

"Yeah, you could say I'm in a hurry." Elijah responded, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. This dream was officially aggravating as all hell. Those dark brown eyes that the dreamscape had blessed him with watched attentively as the teenager sat down. He was not the best with this sort of attitude. The girl would continue to speak in that delightfully blissful tone that sent pins and needles up Elijah's arms. He was not used to this anymore. He was one of the bosses after all. The nonchalant shrug actually pulled a full frown out of the man. The older magi would stand there a short while, not quite fuming but definitely steeped in thought.

"I ... was never going to be good at that." He'd say quietly to himself. If the seemingly random sentence weren't quite heard to one not listening intently it would probably sound of hushed grumblings of gibberish. The teenage years. He was never going to be good at that. Serena had always been the one snappy with come backs and sass. When they had ended up birthing a little girl in the camps Elijah had stated his concerns to a then chuckling wife. She had rolled her eyes at him, standing there with a worried look upon his face while holding the craddled infant as if it were a foreign heirloom. "I'm not worried. Where you suck I'll be able to pick up the slack with ease." Well, Serena wasn't here to pick up the slack. Not with this girl.

A sigh would exit his lips as he shrugged. "Fine. I think it's safe here anyways. I've never been one to just sit around so you relax for the both of us, kay?" The man would attempt a smile back to the teenager before stepping around her and beginning the climb up the long staircase. "I hope your dream vacation is nice, Fey." He would say over his shoulder as he gave a single wave. No, Elijah didn't fair well with teenagers. That's what he would say to himself. In seeing that magi tended to age at different rates, this Fey could have been over one hundred years old as far as he was aware but the categorizing her in "teenage attitude" land seemed to be the easiest to deal with it at the time. "Sorry if I was being an asshole." Would come the softer apology. The words would most likely only be heard if the pitch dark void of space allowed sound to carry. An echoing along with his footsteps.

If left uninterrupted in his actions the man would reach the door at the top. Elijah believed himself to be fit so there would be no panting after the lengthy staircase. Reaching a hand forward he would turn the knob, opening the door with a natural caution that the scenery demanded.