fandomhigh | Coping With Change, Friday, Period 3

This week, students showing up for Jono's class would be treated to not one, but two teachers! Neither of whom probably looked quite how they were expected to look, but what in the world were you going to do about that, with the island as… Fandom… as it was being, these days?

//So,// Jono began, clad in all black as usual, though his head appeared to be not there, replaced with fire, held in by a metal helmet. Which he figured was status quo, thank you very much, though he supposed everyone else's opinions were going to vary. //I've been informed that the class I'm teaching you today isn't, in fact, the one I remember teaching you lot for the past few months now. Lord only knows why I'd choose to teach a class on coping with anything, but at least I've picked up somebody a little more well-versed in change to assist.//

It was amazing how he could give Cecil a side-eye, without benefit of having, you know, eyes.

Cecil just snickered. "You cope just fine!" he assured Jono. He grinned back at him, a couple of his tentacles going to pat him on the back. "But really, change is life, right? I mean, we pretty much all change all the time; there's no point in fighting it."

//Ah, but fighting, I can do,// Jono sighed. //I have a perfectly good syllabus for that already figured out. Much as I'd like pitting you lot against a pack of Danger Shop Sentinels or something, however, I suppose we ought to focus on what you're actually here for. Considering the state of the island these days, I figure we've all got a bit of it to wrap our heads around.//

"Well, so to speak," Cecil amended, with a sheepish grin at Jono.

He was met with another particularly impressive side-eye. This one might have involved a few sparks.

//… I'd place bets there are at least a few of you in here who've been informed that you're… getting yourself wrong, somehow. Cecil and I are likely rather obvious at a glance, from what I've heard. A few of you seem to be, as well.//

Cecil gave him a blank look. "Obvious about what?"

//… Well, apparently I'm obvious. Cecil here could very well have aged a decade or so and sprouted tentacles overnight, granted.// And really, knowing how special the X-gene tended to be, Jono probably could, too. He wasn't going to think about that. //Either way, something unusual seems to be going on.//

Cecil rolled his eyes. All three of them. "I've had these since I hit puberty; they're hardly new. And I'm...well, mostly aging at the same rate as always, odd weekends and such notwithstanding, and -"

//-- And I've been wearing this thing,// Jono rapped two knuckles against the side of his helmet, making a hollow, metallic echo, //for the past decade, now, but there are people here who insist that I've only been for a week or two. And others who have informed me that at some point in my life or other, I was blue. Something is amiss around here. Changes are happening where they probably aren't meant to be. Discuss.//

[OOC: Open! Co-written with the delightful

voiceoverdue!]

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"What can we do?" Celia asked, clearly distressed. "How do we know which is right when our own memories are apparently failing us? Is it even 'change' when we're caught in a riptide of not knowing how things apparently used to be versus what we know them to be now?"

The last few days had been a nightmare for Celia. She was struggling to keep herself under control, now, because the last thing she needed to do was make something important implode on itself because she couldn't calm down.

//We start,// Jono said gently, //by keeping our cool. Take a few deep breaths, if you're able. There has to be an explanation for this- there always is.//

Jono had danced this dance on many a Fandom, apparently.

//The best I can suggest, if you're not certain that it's caught you too, is to just talk to people. Perhaps it's changed them, perhaps it's changed you, or neither, or both. But as it stands, my memories feel real enough to me- whether they're accurate for this reality is irrelevant. My physical self reflects what I remember. I'm going to consider it the truth, while at the same time not dismissing the truths of those around me in kind.//

Everything was true until proven otherwise. What other choice was there?

//If multiple realities and alternate timelines are falling into play, we're all right. We're simply mismatched.//

Celia took a long, deep breath, reminding herself that no matter how anxious all of this made her, it wouldn't solve anything to work herself up over it. "Then what happens to us when order is restored?" she asked, more calmly. "Will we just fade away to be replaced by the correctly-matched versions of ourselves? Or is that a change I shouldn't fear, because I may not know the difference?"

These were mostly rhetorical, and she knew it; Celia was sure there wasn't a real answer to her questions, that anyone knew. She was just looking for someone -- anyone -- to tell her it was going to be all right.

//I don't know,// Jono admitted, honestly. //Perhaps we'll all simply go back to where we belong. If this is a case of scrambled identities, we might return to being what we were intended to be. If this is a case of us being up and transplanted into the wrong reality entirely, we might simply go home.//

It was difficult to be reassuring with no concrete answers to be had, and Jonothon hated that he didn't know more about what was happening. He'd sort of just stumbled across it, himself.

//Before I can really come up with any answers for you, I think we'd have to know exactly what's going on, and then draw our conclusions about the best way to go ahead from there. I don't think anyone here is particularly keen on fading out of being... but if this keeps up, it's entirely possible that any one of us will find ourselves being replaced again, too.//

"After that," Cecil picked up, "just relax! After all, compared to the overwhelming terror and wonder of existence, this is really nothing, right?"

"Existence is the easy part," Celia countered quietly. "Drawing it all into question is where I fall apart."

"Well," Cecil pointed out, "either we exist, which is wonderful and awful, or we don't, in which case, what do we have to worry about?"

Yeah, Cecil probably wasn't the one to go to for reassurance.

"We have to worry about not existing," Celia said carefully, frowning. "Which is...wonderful and awful, I suppose."

How she was being drawn into an existential crisis in the middle of this was beyond her, but at least it was a rabbit hole to go down.

"I was thinking more 'nothing', but that works, too!" Cecil agreed. "I mean, really - it's the same worry whether we exist or not, right?"

That was comforting, wasn't it?

Coping With Change, Friday, Period 3

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