fandomhigh | BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

Celia had had a trying morning, thus far.

She'd boarded a train in New York at the crack of dawn with a large trunk that she was pretending to struggle to carry. Hector had given her a cursory pat on the top of her hat and a tug to one stray curl, accompanied by a stern look that Celia knew meant Don't make me regret this. She'd fallen asleep on the train, and the conductor had awoken her...here. She'd not expected Maryland to be quite so much...brighter, or louder or confusing -- and in fact, Celia had been to Baltimore before, once, and she was very sure that this was unsettlingly different. She'd stumbled off the train, been ushered through a security checkpoint filled with people dressed strangely and giving her even stranger looks and now she was...here.

If not for the glittering sign bearing the name 'Fandom High,' she'd think she was in the wrong place.

Celia slumped gratefully into a chair, dropping her trunk on the floor beside her, and let out a sigh. Then she immediately straightened up. It wouldn't do to have her new classmates think her a lazy slob at first meeting.

[YAY NEWBIE SHUTTLE.]

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Celia stared at him for a long moment, then smiled and shook her head swiftly. "No, not a problem at all. It's just...different from how home is."

No one was this open about it. Ever.

It might still be a trick. She had to be careful, still.

//We hear that a lot, too.// Jono stepped back to the door of the bus, and shrugged his shoulders a little. //It's fairly different from where I come from as well. Hell, I'd prefer to keep my powers completely under wraps-// Ha. //- except I don't have much choice. I can't speak, otherwise.//

Celia raised her brows, her eyes darting towards his wraps before she carefully trained them back to a more neutral portion of his face. "Do you perform?" she asked, curious. Hector wouldn't have sent her somewhere where she couldn't prove herself before an audience, she was sure.

//Not any more. Can't really sing like this.// Jonothon stood there awkwardly for a moment before adding, //On a somewhat related note, I've got a theatre I'm looking to sell.//

He'd be passing it off to Dracula, most likely. But he couldn't bring himself to stay there. There were limits to his resolve, and going downstairs from his apartment to see a stage every day was going to push his to the breaking point.

Sing? That wasn't really what Celia had meant, but he had her interest anyway. "I've not come into a fortune of my own yet, or I'd buy it myself," she replied. "I love the feel of a good theater."

Jono was just going to cling to the idea that she was talking about singing, because the alternative was asking him if he had escaped from a freak show, at least in his own mind, and that was a no-touchy question if ever he heard one.

//And this one is an excellent one,// Jono replied, a little wistfully. //I imagine Drac will keep it running in my stead. You should check it out, sometime.//

"I'm sure I will," she decided, partially because it would feel like all the best parts of home, and partially because she was sure Hector would ask. "What sort of productions are done there? Just plays, concerts...?"

//Mostly plays,// Jono replied, //and the occasional concert. But there have been variety acts, as well. Summer and winter showcases, where anyone is welcome to demonstrate their talent in front of an audience.//

Truth be told, the showcases were Jono's favourite performances while he had been running the place. Partly because they were the ones that hadn't gone directly to hell on him, granted.

Celia nodded slowly, looking a bit worried at that prospect. She would be expected to perform, she was sure. "What sorts do you usually see in those showcases? Musicians? Puppeteers?"

Magicians?

//Singers, mostly. Though for the winter one we had the other year, a friend of mine did some storytelling.// He paused for a moment, and then added, //And she wove some illusions with her Craft, so that the audience saw what she was narrating, as she told her story.//

So, magicians of a sort, yes.

"Oh," Celia breathed, her usually well-schooled face betraying her in spite of herself. There were people like her here. People just like her, who could weave illusions and dazzle the mind. She couldn't keep the nervous joy from bubbling over, just a little. "Did the audience enjoy it? Her storytelling, I mean."

Edited 2014-01-04 01:11 (UTC)

The joy was difficult to miss, as was the nervousness, and Jono hesitated for a moment before sending a small psionic pulse of reassurance her way, wordless and warm.

//They loved it,// he promised. //She put on quite the show.//

Celia felt better, suddenly. She credited the knowledge that there was another like her, somewhere in this Fandom, and that even if Hector had shipped her off to the unknown, there was still something familiar.

"I'm sure she did," she said, remembering herself a little. "She sounds quite gifted."

//She's fantastic,// Jono replied, nodding. //A Healer and a Queen. She's gone back to her world to rule her territory, but there are others on the island who can do similar.//

No other Black Widows that he was aware of, but at least a handful of young women who had Craft, and then so many other people with powers besides.

"Healer, too," Celia said softly, filing that away. Though this girl had gone home, even if there were others similar. "Did anyone manage to find out how she'd done them? The illusions?" She smiled, and added, "Where I come from, audiences always want to know the trick when they see magic."

//In Karla's case, it was something to do with th'way she wove spidersilk,// Jono offered. //And... actual... magic, I suppose, though people where she's from refer to it as Craft. The audience really didn't ask, but I was there to watch her weave the webs, here and there.//

"Maybe I can find someone with this Craft to show me," Celia said, her mind racing with the idea that she was going somewhere where the audience didn't question magic.

She was without margins or borders or safety nets, here.

"It sounds like it was beautiful.

//It was stunning,// Jonothon agreed with a nod of his head. //She worked on it for weeks to make certain it was just right.//

There was a moment's pause, and then, tentatively, he ventured, //So, luv, what do you do?//

Celia balked, unsure of how much to show, whether this was a test. She was the daughter of a great magician -- no, she was a great magician, in her own right. Almost.

"I'm an illusionist," she said after a moment, softly. "A bit like your friend, in terms of what my favorite tricks look like."

Hector favored spectacle. Celia preferred creating something people would love.

Jonothon nodded faintly, looking thoughtful.

//A useful skill,// he noted. //I've known a few people who can make people see things that aren't really there. Lord knows it's saved my sorry arse a few times.//

BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

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