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

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!event: welcome picnic

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

The weather was nice, the school wasn't currently under attack from forces not of this universe and they were still in Iceland. Oh yeah, it was day one of the rest of the newbies' lives.

Welcome to fandom, kiddos. Try not to trip over left over sombreros from Thursday!

[~~Please wait for~~ OCD is up! This is part one of the picnic, specifically for meeting siblings, roommates, and teachers. The rest of the picnic is happening here and here, in an effort to keep browsers from breaking for as long as possible.]

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There were so many new kids, Warren was just about convinced that he was going to totally drown in nametags before ever actually finding the girl he was looking for, here. But it didn't take him half as long as he was afraid it might before he noticed one in particular, smiled, and then made his way over to the girl in question.

"Hey there. Jocelyn Fairchild, right? New here today?"

She nodded, offering her hand "That'd be me. Are you Warren or just the welcoming committee?"

Always was good to get these things straight.

"A little bit of both, I guess," Warren replied, giving her a warm smile and a firm handshake. "That's sort of what this big sibling thing is all about, I'm pretty sure. I would have brought cookies, like my big sibling did for me back when I was still new here, but I can't bake to save my life, and I haven't had a chance to fly into town yet today."

Well, it was nice the school had assigned a pretty big sibling. She smiled back, staying closer to the formal side than the warm side. "I won't hold it against you. It's too early in the day for cookies anyway."

"Plus, the picnic spread is usually enough to feed a small army." Warren nodded toward the table, gesturing just slightly with one wing. "They probably don't need my help with that, really."

The cookie overdose would have been tragic.

"I think, as your big sibling here, it's my duty to let you know that no matter how weird things around here get, you're not actually going crazy," he added.

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking up to the wings and back. Warlock, then? It was an odd demon trait for a Downworlder, but she supposed it was possible.

"Why would I think I was going crazy?"

"You might not," Warren offered, shrugging a little. "I mean, there are people who think Fandom Island's quirks aren't all that strange in comparison to some of the stuff that goes on all the time, where they're from. But most people are kind of thrown, the first time it rains syrup, or you get... invaded by Vikings, or whatever."

There were still sombreros on the ground.

Weird.

...

No, seriously, Vikings? Jocelyn couldn't help the snicker of amusement. "So the school is in danger pillage and plunder?"

"Well, the plundering attempts mostly happened last weekend," Warren shared with a tiny quirk of a grin. "This week, they've mostly just been sharing mead and following people around with maracas."

He couldn't make this up, Jocelyn.

"Are maracas even Viking-ish?" she asked, laughing a little. There was nothing else to do. "They're very talented Vikings, I suppose."

And the question that had been bugging her from the start finally pushed its way forward. Jocelyn looked straight at the wings then back at Warren. "Are you a warlock?"

Well, at least she didn't tapdance around it. And it sure beat that one time when Rinoa had asked him if he was a sorceress.

"A mutant, actually," he explained. "Human, mostly. Just a little weird. It's a... it just kind of happens, where I'm from, sometimes."

"Oh. Like Angelica then," Jocelyn said, thinking about that. "Do you have people who can turn themselves metal or whatever too? I should've known a demon's mark wouldn't look like the angel's wings."

"I don't think I've met Angelica yet," Warren replied after a moment's thought. She must have been one of the new kids, too. "But... Yeah, lots of stuff like that. Guys who can bend metal with their minds, or create ice out of water molecules, or... you know. Just guys like me, who wound up with feathers."

Itchy, itchy feathers. Stupid moulting season.

"... Demon's mark?"

"She was on the shuttle," she agreed, answering that unspoken question and cataloging his response in her mental list of 'insane shit.' Jocelyn shrugged. "Warlocks are half-demon, half-human. So they all have some sort of mark of their heritage - a tail or cats' eyes or extra toes."

"I've met a guy with a tail around here before," Warren noted. "He was actually a mutant, too. Around here... it kind of isn't all set out in black-and-white. Wings can mean a lot of things, you know? Demon, mutant, angel, sorceress, fairy, Fandom feeling quirky..."

The list could go on for just about forever.

"It's like that with pretty much everything, around here. It kind of gets to the point where you just give up after a while, and stick it all under that big, general 'people' category. It's safer, that way."

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, her hand tightly around her red pendant. "Demons and Downworlders aren't exactly people," she pointed out.

Warren was quiet for a moment, his mouth opening a bit while his throat worked on remembering how to form sounds.

Oh, that was not the sort of thing he liked to hear on his new little sib's first day.

"Actually," he said, straightening up slightly, his wings spreading just a tiny bit while he worked up some semblance of backbone, "where I'm from, neither are mutants."

"Surely you're not comparing yourself to creatures who destroy entire worlds because they can only think of torture and killing," Jocelyn remarked, the sharper remark pushed back by his extending wings and the resemblance to every pictures she'd seen of Raziel rising from the lake.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Warren replied. "I've seen demons at work. I know what it looks like when creatures who can only think of torture and killing get their hands on a village full of innocent people who can't protect themselves. But... I've seen people with demon in their blood stand up against that sort of thing, too, and push themselves almost to collapse trying to heal the wounded. It's all... pretty relative."

He shook his head a little. "Nobody's telling you that you have to like them, but around here, it's probably a good idea not to tell anybody that they're less than people, either."

They might take it personally. Or, even if it didn't bother them at all, the people standing beside them might.

Jocelyn shrugged. "Your point only strengthens and confirms mine. Downworlders with demon blood aren't demons, and one doesn't judge them for their heritage. Most Downworlders hate demons as much as we do, and I've been healed by a warlock after a fight too. But it doesn't change the fact that they are what they are."

Edited 2011-05-07 16:49 (UTC)

"Wait, how does that confirm..." Warren bit the inside of his cheek, and he bit it hard, taking a breath and picking apart the conversation. "I think... maybe we're arguing semantics," he offered, a moment later. "I've seen baseline humans who were bigger monsters than any mutant or demon I've known. That doesn't make them stop being people, though. It just makes them really, really rotten ones."

He took a deep breath, folding his wings behind himself again.

"We're all equals here, though. That's the big thing about this place. Actions speak louder than social status or heritage. Too many people here spent their lives being told that they weren't."

Edited 2011-05-07 17:02 (UTC)

Jocelyn considered him for a long moment, unsure how anyone could argue that mundanes could be worse than demons. That was the point of the Nephilim. Mundanes couldn't protect themselves from demons; they couldn't even see demons. Her people hid away behind glamours and wards to keep the mundies from freaking out more than to protect themselves.

He obviously didn't understand. And she could tell it wasn't something she'd be able to explain standing here. Valentine was right. Downworlders were very different sometimes.

"Of course," Jocelyn said, lifting her chin. "I don't wish to be rude." Just unconsciously snobby. That was totally different.

Protect themselves? But who did that leave to protect the rest of the world from them?

"Hey, rude, I can handle," Warren replied, sighing and smiling a little all over again. "It's just something to keep in mind around here, okay? You never know who here might take offense to labels. Heck, some worlds use the same words to describe completely different concepts."

Whyever would they bother with the rest of the world?

"Is that why the island is glamoured so heavily?" she asked, seizing the opportunity to find more out about this place. "Because there are people from all different 'worlds' here?"

"Glamoured?" Warren blinked and tilted his head a little. "I... sorry, I'm not sure I totally understand what that means. Magically, somehow?"

This would be one of those examples of same words, different meanings. Warren grew up with a vague notion of the word being used to describe feather boas and lots of sequins, for example.

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