fandomhigh | Culture Shock, Thursday, 6/25, Period 2

Ah, finals week. The best week of the term, so far as Algren was concerned. Today was the day that he could throw whatever he felt like at the kids, call it a major assignment, and then send them on their merry way while letting them think that he actually had taken time to come up with this stuff.

He kind of had. It had taken a lot of whiskey. But that totally counted as thinking.

"I'm going to assume that the lot of you are more or less capable of surviving the shock that Fandom may or may not have brought about. After all, you've been here for a full term now without completely losing your minds. Congratulations."

He tilted his chin upward slightly, looking around the Danger Shop. "But in no time at all, there's going to be a group of entirely new students, who are going to be just as put-off by Fandom as the lot of you were. Now that you know both what it feels like and what the stages of culture shock actually are, it's time to put them to use. When you all arrived, you were assigned a big sibling, so I'm going to assume that you know more or less what their role here is."

Beside each student, a stick-man shimmered into place, frozen in a kind of two-dimensional stupor as though it was trying to figure out what to make of his surroundings.

"This is your little sibling assignment for the rest of the period. And you better believe that he's got a fair bit of adjusting to do. Get to it. And then when you're done, write me a list of challenges that this boy is bound to face during his stay here."

Well, obviously it was a boy. It had legs instead of a triangle at the bottom.

[OCD ~~coming~~ up! Have at thee!]

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"Nice to meet you, Stickby," said Arthur, who had to close his eyes for a moment just to deal with it. "I am Arthur Pendragon." Watch him avoid the 'Prince of Camelot' part. It may have been that he didn't want to deal with more title-related idiocy. It may also have been that it seemed completely insane to introduce yourself by title to a bloody stick figure. "And I'll be your big sibling, then."

It was that he liked Algren, or Algren was going to wind up on the list with Edna and Yzma of teachers he wouldn't mind yelling at for a few hours.

Algren would probably take that yelling, and just sit through it and smirk. Honestly, now.

A confused sort of expression crossed over Stickby's face. Well, as confused as two dots and a triangle for a mouth could really allow, of course. It would have probably involved blinking, if Stickby had been blessed with eyelids. Alas.

"Pendragon?" That sounded like a treacherous sort of name to a guy who was probably terrified of erasers.

Edited 2009-06-25 14:46 (UTC)

"Yes."

Arthur was feeling a headache coming on.

"Pendragon. Do you have any questions?"

"There aren't any pens involved in this gig, are there?"

The confusion was slowly shifting to panic, now. You could tell by the way Stickby was looking around. In case any pens decided to jump out at him and draw a moustache on his face or, worse still, give him dimension.

Funny, most people would be more terrified about the dragon part. "No, there are no pens here," he said, with the kind of patience someone who didn't really have a great deal of it would use. "Nor are we expecting any. It is simply my name."

"You have a pretty strong name, then," Stickby decided, crossing his wee stick arms over his wee stick chest and relaxing a little. "For a moment there, I was worried that I came to an island with writing tools on it. What a silly thing to think!"

Poor Stickby.

Oh, this was going to be painful. "We do have... writing tools," Arthur attempted, "But none of them are lethal. Or sentient. To my knowledge. You'll be perfectly safe."

If you don't lose your mind, first. Arthur was going to opt with having lost his about five minutes ago.

"Well, if you say so..." Stickby was somewhat concerned, but he was doing his best to put up a brave front. Honest. "People have been telling me that this place is pretty weird, and I mean, I can see that. I've never seen so many people with dimension to them, before. Where I'm from, that kind of thing just exists on TV!"

And in bad drawings that nobody bothered to try to put any sense of realism into.

"You'll be running into a great deal of... people unlike yourself." There he went again, trying. "But I'm sure we can find someone to-- draw you a friend."

Okay, now he was just trying to keep himself sane through mockery.

...

Stickby was now staring. Staring with his wee, beady eyes. Wee, beady eyes that were full of terror and awe.

And then Stickby did the only thing that really made any sense in his wee stick-brain.

He dropped down to his knees and he started to bow before Arthur. Because anyone who could draw simply had to be some sort of god.

[The mun would like to place a disclaimer here stating that she by no means considers herself a god. Usually. Mwahaha.]

Arthur took a moment to appreciate the fact that this all suddenly felt a lot more like home.

Of course, he wasn't at home, which meant that this was troubling. "You can get up," he said, "There's... no need."

Stickby was having none of it.

"Oh, wise and benevolent Lord Pendragon! Please, forgive anything I might have said about differently-dimensioned individuals! I was ignorant to the true power that you and your kind possess!"

It was kind of pathetic, actually.

Oh, wait, this wasn't respect, this was idolatry.

That changed things. "I am not a god," he assured... Stickby. "Save such worship for our Lord, will you?"

As soon as he said it, he realised that could be vastly misinterpreted.

If Stickby could have wide-eyes, he totally would, as he stared up at Arthur in awe. Pure, unadulterated, kind of stick-like awe.

"There is one more powerful than you?" And then there was a pause for consideration. "Of course! The principal! I must prepare proper offerings of paper and ink, to be burned in her honour!"

Vastly, vastly misinterpreted, yes.

Oh, for the love of--

A momentary expression of what in the fucking hell flitted across Arthur's features. "No," he said, slowly, "A higher authority. No mere man or woman on Earth. Just-- Listen. There's no need to worship anyone on this island. We're merely from... countries with different codes."

"Oh."

Well, in that case, Stickby was going to dubiously pull himself back to his feet. If Arthur insisted...

"Graphite versus India Ink, huh? I know how that kinda thing goes." He reached out to give Arthur a pat on his shoulder with his... round... circly hand... thing. "Since we're on even ground now, I have to tell you that it's okay, you know. You don't have to dress up to try to impress me."

"Don't worry, if I did I'd look vastly different," Arthur informed him, more than happy to at least get this as close to normality as a conversation with a stick figure would get. "This was for a class. You'll find most of them are completely insane. Don't be afraid, it all passes with time."

His tone could probably be slightly more compassionate, but for Arthur, it was pretty good.

"Good to know," Stickby decided. "Anything else I should know before I head off on my merry way?"

He took a breath. "Avoid gremlins, glitter, squirrels, the outdoors, and girls with blonde hair, and any teachers of abnormal stature with a strange laugh. I think that's it; I wish you the best of luck."

Arthur was officially the best big sibling a little stick man could ever ask for!

"Thank you! I'll be in touch with you if I need you!"

And with that, Stickby ambled off, in search of a means to actually put his nametag on properly.

Culture Shock, Thursday, 6/25, Period 2

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