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

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!event: welcome picnic

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

Some extra tables had been set up in the shade of the trees on the lawn, away from the buffet in spots where it might be less crowded and much quieter. Well, aside from the mariachi band, but at least their music was entertaining? They might even take requests!

[OCD is up, have at it! This is the FIRST post for general mingling. Please use this post first, if your browser can handle the comment load. Roommates, fake siblings and teachers are all here and there's more room for mingling here. Since it's outside, the picnic is open to all students, teachers, and townies!]

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This was Atton, deciding whether or not he felt inclined to talk to any of these people enough to pass comment.

"What, did you put an anti-grav generator in your hair?"

Apparently he did.

And right then and there, Sparkle was classifying this kid as 'jealous.'

"It's called product," he informed the other boy helpfully. "Some people use it when they want to change up their look. Maybe next I'll be dying it blue. Blue's a good colour."

Really, if he didn't want people to pass comment on his hair, he wouldn't stick it up like that in the first place.

Yeah, Atton was totally jealous of the kid with the weird hair. Yep.

"Pretty sure you've got enough product in there to start crawling down into your head," Atton said helpfully. "Dye's only going to speed that up."

He was saying it in a slow drawl; that kind of helped, right?

"Oh, yeah. Because I'm really totally worried about that." See Sparkle worry? He was the worriedest. Which was only a word when he wanted it to be, and shut up. "What does it matter to you what I do to my hair anyhow? It's not growing out of your head."

And he was the second one to ask him if he'd fried his own head or something, too. Sparkle was loving this place already.

"I'm just asking because it stood out," said Atton, now kind of offended in a seriously sedate way. "Who shat in your breakfast this morning?"

"I'm sure someone tried," Sparkle reasoned. "Anyhow, someone asks me what's with my hair, I ask them what's with their face. Maybe I want to stand out. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Hey, I'm not going to object if someone else wants to make themselves the biggest target in the room if we run into one of those invasions people keep warning me about," Atton said, lifting his chin at the guy. "Keep it up."

"Invasions. Right," Sparkle replied, looking slightly dubious. "Because if the island is suddenly overrun by pirates or something, the first person they're going to go after is the kid whose hair sticks up, instead of... I don't know. The people in charge? Someone who actually has money? You can't honestly tell me that you came to talk to me because you were worried my hairdo was going to get me killed, man."

"No, I talked to you because I was passing by and you had weird hair," Atton drawled. "And I thought 'hey, that guy has weird hair, I'm going to go talk to him'. But so far, I'm thinking the pony is a better conversationalist."

"The pony, right," Sparkle replied, looking back toward Pinkie Pie again. Yeah. This place was kind of different. "So you ask me if I stuck my head in a... a... thing. A gravity thing. Because that's a great way to start a conversation. I mean, if you want to pick a fight or something."

"You could've just said 'it's product, thanks for asking'," Atton said. "You know, between you and princess over there, I'm starting to wonder if there's something wrong with me."

No, he wasn't. He knew perfectly well what was wrong with him.

"Yeah," Sparkle scoffed, "weird how you could get an opinion like that around here."

Sparkle knew that there was plenty wrong with himself, at that. Nobody had even had to give him that impression, for that matter. He liked sparing them the effort.

"So, Mister Conversation. What did you do to get yourself stuck here?"

"I volunteered," Atton said. "Figured this place couldn't be worse than the smelly, Hutt-infested hole I crawled out of to get here."

He held up a taco. "So far, I'm not wrong."

Give Sparks a moment to kind of digest that information, Atton.

"You had huts in your smelly hole."

Aaand it had been digested wrong. Lo.

"Most people put them outside, you know."

"Hutts?" Atton asked, raising an eyebrow. "Pretty sure most of them live in opulent dens full of Twi'lek slave girls. Never did meet anyone who could lift a whole one."

"Yes."

Sparkle was also pretty sure he'd never met someone who could lift a whole hut. That's why sane people built them outside. And not... in their smelly hole.

"So. What the hell is a twilleck supposed to be, anyhow?"

Atton shot him a funny look.

"Oh, wait, this is one of those 'what time are you from' problems," he realized a second later. "Twi'leks. Non-humans with brain-tails and funny-colored skin. Hutts like to put them in bikinis and make 'em dance around."

That was a touchingly sensitive description, Atton.

Okay, here was where Sparkle realized that he was going to have to ask more questions.

"Uh-huh. And so now I ask what a hut is supposed to be, where you're from. Because what I'm thinking of doesn't tend to stick anything into bikinis, you know?"

"Giant, smelly slugs with pretensions of grandeur and an iron grip on the smuggling industry," Atton ponied up. "Why, what were you thinking about?"

This place was, for lack of a better word, weird.

"... You know, huts? Little houses made of, like, sticks or whatever? Little pigs build them so that big bad wolves can blow them down."

Sparkle could honestly say that the giant slugs were a bit of a new concept to him.

"Oh, right," Atton said after a beat. "Yeah, no, we lived in old storage containers. Not exactly easy living - I would've taken the hut over the Hutt."

Sparkle still wasn't entirely sure he knew what to make of the whole giant-slugs-and-brain-tentacles conversation that was going on between them, but at least there was a little bit of the conversation that he could wriggle in on because it made sense.

Sense was sort of awesome around here today, even if he'd never admit that he was having troubles finding it.

"Most living isn't easy living, you know. People live wherever people can live. Storage containers, tents on the city limits, on the steps of big public buildings holding out a cup and hoping that someone's going to give them a little spare change so they can buy themselves some food or some damn coffee even though everyone is convinced they're just going to use it to turn around and buy crack or meth or pot with it anyhow and you're too young for a job so you just go hungry so hungry you think of maybe eating cockroaches because at least that's a little protein and that's better than nothing."

Sparkle shot Atton a grin.

"Storage containers, huh? Sounds cozy."

It was a nice, moving little speech, it really was; just a pity it was lost on Atton, who'd seen and lived enough crap by now that he'd become numb to it all.

"Yeah, it's all fun and games until someone shits in the corner," he said, with not a single dip in his apathetic drawl. "Or sends Exchange thugs to shake you up, or maybe drops a bomb on your head."

Ooo! Thugs and shit! Sounded mostly homey!

Okay, so the bomb part was new.

"You get bombs dropped on your head often back home?"

"No, but my planet did," Atton said conversationally, leaving only the slightest emphasis on the word 'planet'.

"I'm just not interested in playing 'who's life got messed up worse'. I just came here planning not to settle for anything less than a room with a bed and a smell that reminds me slightly less of urine this time."

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