Chapter Text
He was cooped up in his cabin for most of the day, hunched over his desk trying and failing to finally create a new chapter. To put something, anything interesting onto the page. Hours of work only resulted in half-baked WIPs and even worse fully formed pages. Everything he was writing today was just awful, truly he was in a rut. A horrible, sickening writing stump.
With a hearty sigh, he finally pushed away from the desk, his back cracking from hours of sitting hunched over. He spared a glance at the clock, 3 pm… A lot earlier than he would’ve guessed but it allotted him time to watch the waves before it got dark. He picked up his coat, rifling around in the pockets as he slipped it on; from the weight in his wallet, it seemed a stop a the saloon would be on the itinerary as well.
The warm breeze of the sea brushed his face as he left his house a small smile crawling up his cheeks. Oh, how he loved the sea. His good moon soured as he saw the farmer come into his view. He had nothing against the farmer, if anything they had been nothing but kind. But something, he could never tell what but there was something, so inexplicably wrong about the farmer. Everything about them was a cruel mockery of a human life. Every encounter with them left his skin itchy and every one of his hair standing on edge.
He stood for a moment, watching the farmer as they fished. No matter how hard the breeze blew not a single hair moved out of place, if Elliot looked even closer it seemed as if the farmer didn’t breathe. But surely, he had to just be paranoid, everything alive needed to breathe.
Shrugging off his initial hesitance, he continued his walk onto the dock to take in the view of the sea. About an hour passed before the farmer moved, finally reeling in their last fish (unusually fast he might add) and packing up. A chill passed down Elliot's spine as the farmer looked over at him, a huge smile split their face and they waved their arm almost comically fast.
It seemed ever too fast how quickly they made their way over to him rifling around in their bag as they went. “Hello, farmer. Are you well?” He smiled down at them even as they seemed to ignore him in favor of finding something in their bag. It took them a second, as it seemed the bag was full almost to burst, and they pulled out… a nearly 2-foot lobster???? And they handed it to him with a grin.
“Oh farmer… this is a beautiful gift thank you!” He reached to take the, frankly huge (how in Yoba’s name did it even fit in their bag?) crustacean from the farmer accidentally brushing their hands in exchange. The farmer’s skin was freezing.
Yoba, Elliott needed a drink.