fandomhighdorms | roof - wednesday noonish

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roof - wednesday noonish - 3/18

Liir had called in for work today.

He never missed work unless he was a kitten, but today, he couldn't summon the energy to want to do anything, even cook. He supposed that was a bad sign, that he couldn't even fall into the familiar and soothing patterns of menial labor, but there wasn't much he figured he could do about it.

His father was leaving. Almost certain death was preferable to his presence, apparently, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. And to top things off, last night had been wonderful; the stories, the knowledge, the affirmation of who and what he was. All the nights with his father would probably be wonderful.

Until he left.

Liir couldn't stand being in his room and, unfair to the poor puppy, couldn't stand to look at Makejoy any more than it took to do his minimum duties for the day; even then, the walk had been short. Instead, he was up here, broomless to prevent him from doing something stupid, looking out at the rest of the school, thinking highly uncharitable thoughts and wondering if it was times like this that made people turn to religion.

[open as a roof is]

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Ender had his own problems with staying in his room - he always liked the seclusion, but the roof gave him space to think, the kind of space he hadn't had growing up a lot. He enjoyed the freedom of it, and the indulgence of lingering for once.

When he got up there with his sandwich, he found it wasn't empty. He debated whether to give in to the school's population's habit of greeting people if you ran into them, and decided he wasn't feeling anti-social enough not to. "Hey," he said, and then took a spot on the roof to sit at a comfortable distance.

He turned at the word, his face shifting automatically into a polite sort of smile. He didn't know the other boy, but that didn't mean much. He was a nice distraction, anyway.

"Hello. Did you come up here to-- that is, would you like me to leave you to your sandwich?"

I wouldn't have said hey if I wanted to chase you off the roof, he thought, but social codes on Fandom had their own ways and he'd gotten used to it.

"If I wanted privacy, I'd be in my room," Ender pointed out, and took a bite of his sandwich. That was a contrast to the weekend, to being tiny again. He hadn't realised he'd actually gotten rid of some reservations over time. Then again, he didn't think about his childhood much as a rule, and it didn't matter much anyway.

He'd come up here for privacy, but he didn't mention it since it obviously hadn't been the best of ideas. Keep one's mouth shut and a foot had a harder time getting in there, Liir figured.

"Fair enough," and his eye caught on the sandwich as he wondered if he'd eaten today. He moved up to the face, since he wasn't actually hungry. And, of course, not to look like a madman.

"Liir, incidentally," he offered, since he couldn't recall being introduced to the other boy.

To Ender, privacy itself was a luxury he'd only gotten used to over the past couple of years. A privilege meant for commanders. And even then, or rather now, there was always Ichigo, even if he didn't see the other boy much, which suited him fine.

"I'm Ender," he offered. By now, he didn't shoot any furtive looks anymore, didn't try to scan for a recognition or some baby getting shoved in his face. Instead, he regarded Liir thoughtfully.

He'd been alone up on the roof. Ender wondered if he hadn't expected company.

"Good to meet you, Ender."

I hope you're having a better day than I am.

"It's remarkable how many people are on this island," he added after a minute, "since I'm sure you've been here at least since the beginning of the semester and we've not even made introductions before."

He'd lived a good portion of his life in seclusion. Privacy had been an unfortunate reality, given mostly because the other two people in the keep didn't care enough to look in on him much.

That had changed while he was in the Emerald City, and since he'd been here. Which, really, was for the better for him.

"I don't really get out much," Ender said, easily. At least not the way people did here. Small talk was wasted on him, and most of the time all the silly quips and introductions just seemed exhausting.

He wasn't very good at getting close to people, and that suited him fine, too.

"I'll wager you don't, either," he added, after a moment, "If there's so many people you haven't met yet."

"Not really. I'm, well, far more used to animals and Animals than I am to people," he admitted.

"Usually, I just cook."

You don't have to talk to people if their mouths are full. And they usually came off of an encounter thinking positively about you when you fed them. So he'd learned early on.

Serving food would work as a good distraction if you didn't want to talk but you wanted someone to think of you anyway, Ender registered, and nodded. He could make a few guesses.

"Useful," he commented. "With animals as well as people." He'd said animals twice, though, so Ender tilted his head and said, "I take it that 'animals' wasn't you being stuck on repeat."

Liir nodded to 'useful'. He didn't consider it dishonest, and so didn't think anyone shouldn't know that he cooked not just for his own interest but as a substitute for talking. After all, as long as he enjoyed his end and they enjoyed theirs, it was a good 'conversation', even if it was had in cookies instead of words. And he was much better at cookies, frankly.

But he shook his head to the second comment.

"There's animals and then there are Animals. The first you're probably familiar with. The second are thinking, speaking, rational creatures who just happen to look like the first.

"Though I've been told they used to wear clothing just like people, before the Wizard."

It was a strategy to cope with people like any other. But Ender tended to spend more time getting away from people, especially their good feelings about him, than towards them, and while he could understand it he couldn't see himself doing it. He'd always had to prove himself through actions in his own way.

The animals thing didn't sound that weird. It made him picture chickens, walking around in skirts and jackets, pigs with hats on their heads, dictating terms. He tried to picture Graff like that, and wondered what he'd be. A turkey, maybe. He gave Turkey Graff a dress in his mind and smiled.

I can still make you look silly, you old bastard.

"Sounds like something straight out of Fandom," he said, honestly, "or straight to Fandom." He thought about Liir's last statement. "I'm taking it we're talking about a real wizard, too." He sounded curious.

"I couldn't tell you," he admitted.

"The Witch didn't think much of him, of course. And there are, well, indications that he didn't so much work magic as want to."

His thirst for the Grimmerie. His fear of the Witch. The fact that he'd used the military instead of any kind of magic to do what he wanted done. Of course, for him, magic was a last resort, but he had his reasons. He didn't think the Wizard had.

"But that's what he was called. He was said to grant wishes to those who did as he asked."

Instantly, his thoughts went to the Scarecrow. He hadn't noticed him being more 'brainy' after his audience with the Wizard; he'd always been something of a pragmatist. On second thought, it might have been his disillusionment with the Wizard that had prompted the Scarecrow's thoughtful actions towards himself. Liir couldn't know, however; he doubted he'd ever see the Scarecrow again, after all.

"I couldn't tell you much about that, though. I wasn't allowed in when the rest of them met him."

Edited 2009-03-18 16:14 (UTC)

The Witch, the Wizard. Liir spoke as if he expected people to know what he was talking about. Or maybe Liir was just talking to himself, and Ender was an audience. He didn't really mind one way or the other. It took the focus off him, and he found he enjoyed the anonimity as much as the chance to get into someone else's head.

"So the Wizard made the Animals strip down," he repeated. He grasped onto Liir's first sentence: didn't work magic as much as want to. He knew people like that. They threw around their weight and pride, hoping nobody would notice their inadequacies. "You make it sound like he was compensating."

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