fandomhighdorms | The Deck, Sunday Afternoon.

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The Deck, Sunday Afternoon.

There was sunshine. There was a deck. Really, it didn't take a genius to add one plus one and come up with PLAN. Or at least, it only took a Dōjima.

This was the perfect opportunity to lay outside in her swimsuit, reading one of her trashy romance novels, with an ill-gotten blender that she'd stolen from one of the common rooms set-up and filled with piña colada goodness.

This was what being a graduated senior was all about.

[Open deck is open!]

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Sunbathing at home was one of Sookie's favorite hobbies -- if nothing else, the sun sure didn't cost anything. So with her own trashy romance novel, a bikini-clad Sookie made her way out to the deck to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon there.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one smart enough to enjoy the sunshine," she commented, smiling over at the other girl.

"Considering that this place is cloudy almost nine months of the year? I swear, I'll take it whenever I can get it," Dōjima replied, grinning over at her new companion. "It's not summer unless I have a tan."

"There's next to nothing to do in my hometown," Sookie confessed with a grin. "Tanning's pretty much a cultivated hobby for me at this point."

"Ready to compete in tanning as an Olympic sport?" she laughed. "That would be awesome. There's plenty to do at home, but nothing beats just laying out with your friends, ne?"

"Can you imagine if tanning was a competitive sport?" she sighed happily. "I mean, it'd be bad for our skin in the long run, but I doubt that'd really stop anyone."

"No worse for you than getting pounded playing football for years," Dōjima pointed out. "I mean, those guys must live a permanent concussion. But if you tan just right, then it really isn't as much of a problem."

"That's true," Sookie noted thoughtfully. "And it's all about knowing your limits, and all that. Like any sport."

"Exactly! And if they can get awards for hitting each other, we totally deserve one for a perfect tan."

She grinned at the other girl, shifting over enough to offer her hand. "Dōjima. I don't think we've actually met yet, have we?"

"Sookie," she returned, shaking the offered hand and briefly pausing to strengthen her mental barriers so she wouldn't get thoughts on contact. She was pretty sure she was getting better at that, bit by bit. "Pretty sure we haven't met, nope. I haven't been as sociable as I should be, though."

"Same. Graduation hit, and I went hermit," Dōjima agreed. "I figure I've got a few good weeks left, so I should get out and be more social."

"Although I can't believe there aren't more people out here today! It's nice out! I guess they're all down at the beach, or hiding from those creepy reptile-things from the other day."

"Yeah, I'm used to gators," Sookie admitted, "but those things were not like the ones at home. Wouldn't blame everyone if they're still hiding away from 'em."

[woe for I must sleep! I shall pick up in the AM!]

"One thing to go on the list of 'Things I Actually Won't Miss About Fandom,'" she said dryly. "Fish-spitting alligators. It's a pretty short list, all things considered. It joins 'Zombies' and 'Creepy Statues', everything else has been pretty awesome."

[No worries, I fell asleep on the keyboards again.]

"Creepy statues?" Sookie echoed, arching an eyebrow. "I mean, you can find those most anywhere, I thought."

"These were, like, the angel statues you see in graveyards? But they moved when you didn't look, and sent people back in time," Dōjima said, gesturing with her hands to indicate Level of Weird. "Apparently they were aliens or something, but they were really really freaky."

"...as if we needed another reason to not go into a graveyard," Sookie said in disbelief. "Those things're creepy 'nough on their own without being...aliens."

"I know!" Dōjima exclaimed. "I mean, I went to a pretty cool party in the graveyard before all that happened, but now? There's no way you'd get me in there after dark. I know they're not following people around anymore, but I'd rather not take my chances."

"This was just a few months after I got here, too. Talk about a way to get introduced to Fandom Strange."

"Poor thing," Sookie said sympathetically. "Yeah, at home, there's graveyard themed parties all over the place. Not in Bon Temps, but the bigger cities, like Shreveport, and certainly in New Orleans. Mostly for vampires and fa -- um, people who follow them around. I never really wanted to go to one much before, and now I have another reason."

"You've got vampires at home?" she echoed, looking surprised. "We have witches, but no vampires. At least, none that I've ever heard about."

"And I've never heard of anyone throwing a party for a witch, or for a vampire. Aren't people, you know," she gave a half-shrug. "Worried about getting eaten? I mean, that's what vampires do, right?"

"Well, we didn't know 'bout 'em until a few years back," Sookie noted. "The Japanese perfected a synthetic blood substitute, and the vampires came out as a subculture of their own, now that they can drink that stuff and safely live among humans and all. We still have prejudices -- it's like any minority, you know? -- but there're people who'll follow the vampires around and try to be like them. Some people even want to get bitten, even though it's illegal."

She paused, tilting her head. "But we don't have witches, that I know of. I mean, voodoo ladies and stuff, but not witches. Are yours, um, dangerous witches?"

Dōjima started giggling. "The Japanese invented a blood substitute for vampires?" she gasped. "Of course we did. Because inventing things out of videogames is the national Japanese past-time."

She hesitated for a moment, however, as she thought about how to answer Sookie's question. "Witches are people who use the Craft to hurt other people or commit crime," she said finally. "Most people don't even know Craft is real, but it's out there, and there's even a special force to police its use."

"We've got cryokinetics, psycho-controllers, telekinesis... Heck, one of my co-workers is a psychokinetic; she can read the history of an item, and its owner, with one touch of her hand."

Yurika had her own prejudices on the topic, but at least she recognized them for what they were. She didn't have any problem with most Craft users, but the psycho-controllers and teeps still creeped her the hell out, especially after the incident in Rome.

"You have psychics?" Sookie asked, perking up a little. "Or, um, people with mental abilities, and stuff like that? We do too. Kind of. At least one."

"Yeah," Dōjima made a face. "Thankfully the pure-bred telepaths are rare, because if one goes Witch, you don't want to be in their way."

"I mean, if Karasuma snapped, what's she going to do? Read my purse and tell everyone about my sex life? Take my PIN off my ATM card and empty my bank account? Those aren't life-threatening things," she said. "But if you've got an angry full-on teep on your hands, you have a problem. Those bastards will claw their way right into your head, and shred anything in their path."

Yurika? Still bitter? Noooooooooo.

"All of the Craft is mental, in a way. You either have the genetic talent, or you don't, or you're a latent, like me." She wriggled her fingers and grinned at Sookie. "Lights are on, but no one is home, as they say. I can't even lift a pencil."

"Right," Sookie said, smiling a little nervously. "Um, the telepath...we have...is just that. We don't have telekinetics or anything -- just mind-reading. And most people think it's just pure craziness, anyway, even with the vampires proving the supernatural's real."

Yurika noted the nervousness and filed it away as interesting, but not unusual. Craft could be startling, even after living at Fandom, and typically no one liked the idea of someone creeping in your brain.

"Read-only telepaths? Really? They don't do any of the," and here she wriggled her fingers near her brain for lack of proper terminology. "Rewrite, I guess? You'd think basic Craft would stay the same between universes, but I guess not."

"What are you reading?" someone asked from over her shoulder.

"Nothing," she answered, snapping her book shut to smile at him angelically. "Hi there, koibito. Care to join me?"

"Always," he said, and poured himself a drink. "Is it the same sort of nothing I was reading at the shop a few weeks ago?"

"Nooooooooo," she drawled, batting her eyes at him. "Not really?"

It was worse.

"No young ladies kept apart from their true loves by the tragedy of the supernatural?" Romeo checked. "Hardly worth reading, then."

"No, by Vikings," she answered with a perfectly straight face. "Lots of very manly and angry Vikings."

Dōjima looked at the blender longingly, torn between getting up and soaking up more sun. "Pour one of those for me, too?"

"Is there ravishing?" Romeo asked. "I hear the ravishing is the best part."

He handed her a drink.

"The ravishing is always the best part," she practically purred, letting her fingers linger against his wrist for a moment before accepting the drink. "Sadly, there's only been wishful-thinking ravishment. It'll get to the good stuff eventually."

"I'll keep you company until you do," Romeo promised. "How have you been Killed any monstrous lizards lately?"

"You mean our visitors earlier this week?" Yurika asked, making a face. "I stayed inside. There's not much I can do against something like that."

"Besides, they were gross."

"I shot at a few," Romeo said laconically. "You didn't miss much. They weren't bright or interesting."

"My hero, keeping me safe," she drawled. "I would have watched from the window, if I'd known."

"I would think it would bore you," Romeo returned. "Unless some of your vikings found their way into the fight."

"Who needs Vikings, when I've got a Verona boy?" Yurika laughed, setting the book aside completely. "You're much more interesting."

"Now that is high praise, my love," Romeo told her. He sipped the drink again. "How much rum did you put in this?"

"Enough?" she asked sheepishly, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Um, a lot."

What? It was summer, and it wasn't like she could get detention for it, right?

"It's really, really good," Romeo informed her. "Don't apologize."

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The Deck, Sunday Afternoon.

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