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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"I only fight when I must," Eleanor said, which was true enough. She hadn't chased down splicers to kill; she'd only gone for the ones who targeted Father. "So you're the better conversationalist and I'm the better fighter. What else can we take turns mastering?"

How about self-control? Stubbornness? Hiding?

"I suppose there's a whole world of things to draw from," Elsa said, thoughtfully. "Geometry, perhaps? Or singing?"

She was excellent at both.

"We may have to share geometry," Eleanor said. "I'm quite fond of triangles. But I can't sing. That was Aunt Gracie."

How delightful it had been, those few bright months when Aunt Gracie had been her caretaker. Stories while she brushed Eleanor's hair, and bluesy lullabies at night.

"I think I can handle sharing geometry," Elsa allowed. "I've got a good eye for fractals, myself."

For some reason.

"Is there anything else you enjoy?"

Tinkering with alarms, resurrecting her dead father, looting corpses ... most of what Eleanor enjoyed wasn't anything she could share.

She bit her lip and tried to come up with something that was passably interesting.

"I like learning new languages," she said, "though my pronunciation is a bit iffy."

Reading it from a book wasn't all that helpful.

"I've studied a few over the years, myself," Elsa replied, "but learning is difficult when you don't have somebody to practice with. That was always where I tripped up."

One of these days, she would commit a horrible social faux-pas with a dignitary from a neighboring kingdom, or... or...

Or not. The gates were still shut, after all.

"I'd suggest we help one another," Eleanor said, "but it seems like we might just reinforce our mistakes instead."

"Do you suppose we'd be making the same mistakes, though?" Elsa smiled faintly. "I imagine if we are, then at least we can console ourselves knowing that it's not us, it's probably them."

She was joking.

"If we find any native speakers, we can correct them," Eleanor agreed. "They must have been improperly taught."

"Really, it's a pity they've gone their entire lives never knowing the truth," Elsa mused. "They should be thankful we're around to assist."

BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

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