fandomhigh | Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part III

Entry tags:

!event: welcome picnic

Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part III

Yes, there were even more tents on the other side of the lawn.

Yes, the tables and chairs that had been set up there were still close to the ice cream.

Priorities are very important here at Fandom High.

[OCD is up! This is the SECOND post for general mingling. Use this post if your browser can't handle the comment load of the first mingling post. Roommates, fake siblings and teachers are here.]

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George sighed sadly. "Serves me right for not keepin' a lass guessin'," he said lightly. "And yerself? You must've been here for a bit?"

"Very nice deductive reasoning," she said with a wry smile.

"I've been here for a few weeks. Certainly not 'old' but no longer new."

Her head tilted curiously now as she turned a little more to look at him.

"Fiona Post. And you would be?"

"An' none of the shiny worn off you yet," George teased. "T'would be a pity if it did."

"It's a pleasure, Fiona Post. 'M George Cooper."

Away from the crowds, her hand was offered much more smoothly than it would have been earlier. If he was the type to notice such a thing, he might find that her hand was soft, but more unyielding than it had any right to be.

"Very nice to meet you, George. Do you prefer address by your first name or your last name?"

He noticed. It was hard not to when one was used to judging everything based on if it would get him killed, sent to the cells, or just starve after being crippled. As he shook her hand, his was too big for his frame and hard from years of fighting for his food.

"Can call me whatever y'like, lass," George said easily. "Most call me George though."

"George, then. I go by Fiona as well."

She glanced at the assembled crowd before giving a short laugh.

"And occasionally 'Yo-Yo Ma' but only by the crazy professor."

"Why would he call ye that?" he asked, smiling at her laugh. "Or is it explained fully by him bein' touched in the head?"

She shook her head and reached into her purse, pulling out a stainless steel yo-yo.

"I use this as my main weapon," she explained, pulling the string out a little before wrapping it back up.

"It's called a yo-yo, if you're not familiar with them. But he's also crazy."

George eyed the yo-yo curiously. "Is it weighted then?" It'd be a bit like the batons th' Dogs carried about if it was. Still, there was the issue of the string getting tangled.

She shook her head and held the yo-yo out to him.

He took it with a quick smile and examined the yo-yo closely, feeling for a weight or something to make it remotely weaponlike.

"Yer a terrible lass t'be havin' me on like that," George told her, looking from the yo-yo back to Fiona.

She sighed, a little tiredly, before giving him a crooked smile and pulling some of the string out from the yo-yo.

"If you find a rock, I'll show you how it works. I promise it's not a joke."

Though more and more she was glad she was learning the sword.

T'be fair, once George saw how it worked, he'd probably respect the yo-yo thing more than a noble's sword.

"One rock for ye then, Fiona," he said easily, standing up to look around. He returned with both a good sized rock and a longer stick.

"Would this one do?"

She nodded and held her hand out for the stone.

"You found it so no calling me a cheat, all right?"

A bit of looping had the string held taunt between her pointer finger and her thumb.

"Lass, in th' Lower City, ye call someone a cheat wi'out proof, and yer found in th'river the next day," he said, seriously, his eyes fixed on the string. "I shouldn't like that."

Accepting what he'd said without another word, she held up the rock. Held up the string.

Pressed the string to the rock. Held up the two halves of the rock.

"See?"

His eyes widened as he reached for one of the halves of rock. Would've been nice to see magic like the people of old and see just how that happened. Still, he could ask.

"Is it magic then?" George asked, spinning the rock in his fingers but watching Fiona intently.

She shook her head.

"It's what I can do. If I have an edge and the will to cut, I can cut it."

She put the other half of the rock onto the ground before winding up the rest of the string. Where she cut was as smooth as glass.

"Which is why I can use that. Not magic, though."

"Impressive," George commented, still watching the rocks and the string. "An' ye can do it wi' anythiing?"

"Anything. Could do the same thing with my hair. A blade of grass. Someone's necklace."

She shrugged.

"Lots of people here can do things. Some people tell, some people don't. So you know."

George nodded, glancing back at the rock. Secrets didn't bother him. He figured them all out eventually.

"So I've heard," he said easily. "Have ye always been able t'do that then?"

"Maybe," she admitted with a shrug.

"But I only found out I could after my last birthday. My family is a little weird."

George snorted. He'd heard that description a few too many times today. "A little weird, aye? Like this place-" the sweep of his hand took in the crowd and the castle amd the lawns "- is just a tiny bit weird?"

"Exactly like that," and her wry smile spoke to more than a few difficulties because of it.

"Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Don' mind in th' slightest," George said. "I'm told it's another world. 'M from th' Lower City in Tortall."

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