fandomhighdorms | The Valley Campfire: Monday Afternoon

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The Valley Campfire: Monday Afternoon

Anyone coming across the campfire today would find Layla sprawled out on a blanket as she traced a convuluted route on a map of the Northeastern part of the United States. She was lying on her stomach with her feet up in the air as she munched on a snack of raisins and goldfish crackers

And while a fire wasn't lit in the firepit, there was a cooler of drinks and some goodies from J'GOB sitting on top of them for visitors to enjoy.

[Open campfire is open]

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"I would have preferred a cat," Tybalt replied, his lip curling as he attempted to idly brush some of the smell from his clothing. "Perhaps the island will decide to be more charitable in the future, and might see fit to afford me with a slightly more mobile form, should it change me again at all."

It was difficult to be a sexy beast when you were a cylinder made of tin.

"I don't think the island has any concern for us, but yeah, I hope you don't turn into immobile things again."

She looked around, and addressed the island in general. "Hey Fandom, that doesn't mean that I want to turn into anything immobile, either. I liked being a cat just fine, thank you."

"Mobility," Tybalt chimed in, looking up and addressing the island as well, "is indeed preferable to the state in which I was locked these past few days. Prithee, do keep that in mind."

"Just that one little, simple request, okay Fandom?"

Kate looked at Tybalt. "...Do you have the nagging feeling that by doing that we've just drawn the island's attention to ourselves? And that it's gonna mess with us any minute now? Because I do."

"I can't imagine that people address it directly very often," Tybalt agreed, glancing back at her warily. "Though it would be in terrible form for it to single us out so soon after my own return to humanity, and while you're charged with the care and protection of... Bobby the penguin."

He hoped?

She hoped, too.

"Well, it hasn't demonstrated that level of cruelty at me yet, so..." Like that means anything. "Even the singing wasn't so bad. So, we'll just have to hope it doesn't mystically bitchslap us for our insolence."

"Seeing as we can hardly slap it back," Tybalt added, "that would probably be for the best."

The worst he really could do to the island as a whole would be to kick a rock or something. And that wasn't nearly so satisfying.

"Just in case something does happen, and especially something that leaves me incapable of speaking," Kate smirked, "I should probably introduce myself. I'm Kate."

"And I am Tybalt, of the house of Capulet." Oh, the pride was so thick in that statement of his name that it could have been used to tar potholes in the road. Or something. "And it is a pleasure to make thine acquaintance, Kate."

"Nice to meet you too, Tybalt."

She bit on her lip, because she didn't want to aks the obvious question. But she had to. "You're probably tired of hearing this by now, but the way you speak is... interesting. Where are you from?"

Tybalt offered her a wry, if tolerant, sort of grin.

"Verona Beach, in the year 1996. Though I'm coming to realize that the year has little bearing on my manner of speech, and so I'll have to assume that the difference is, in fact, a regional one."

"I was three years old in '96, but yeah, I think that wasn't the usual style back then," Kate nodded with a little grin. "I'm from Overland Park myself. And from this year."

"I've heard talk of other worlds, of alternate universes and realities. I find myself wondering, then, if such differences aren't a matter of these alternate worlds, as well. I've not heard any before my arrival here who use such informal speech day by day, as I'm certain not many here have heard the Verona tongue so readily as I present it."

Someone had told Tybalt that he sounded as though he was from a play of some sort. He'd stared at her as though she was crazy.

"That's probably it. Which means that you and me are not just from different times, but actually different worlds as well." She didn't necessarily want to think about that in great detail. It tended to make her head spin.

"I'm probably one of the luckier ones, because this is my time – and kinda my place as well. It's these other freaks," and she used the word as a term of endearment, "that are messing it up for me."

Tybalt actually cracked a grin, at that.

"And would thou be suggesting, then, that I ought to put forth an effort to be less freakish?" He cleared his throat, and then took a moment to seriously consider his next words. Changing up one's dialect so completely was a challenge, at best. "I don't think I can manage to talk to you like this for long, you know."

You could almost see him twitch, actually, when he'd used 'you' instead of 'thee.'

"Well you could make some effort to be more presentable," Kate replied teasingly. "Like that. That's not so hard, now is it, talking like us normal people?"

"I should like to see thee attempt to speak in the Verona tongue as simply as I can apparently make the same efforts to speak in thine," Tybalt laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Should I dispose of manners and form entirely, then, so as to better fit in? I daresay fewer people would ask near so many questions."

Actually, he kind of liked the attention...

"I know you'd like that. But I'm not going to." Mainly because of the distinct possibility of embarrassing herself royally. Her mother's brain could handle four different manners of speaking; hers, not so much. She made a mental note of trying to learn at some point. To surprise him. "I spend enough of my energy on just trying to keep up with what your saying."

"And I bet you actually like being special," she added with a smirk. She had liked being different at one point, too.

"Oh, is it special, now, and not freakish? Well, should I continue to be identified as special, then I am hardly in any position to complain."

Oh, he was practically preening.

"T'is a shame and a sin that we are not in such a position to speak more fluently, each in the tongue of the other. Should thou find thyself continuing to have difficulty understanding my speech, please, do inform me of such, and I'll make note to affect my wording accordingly."

"You do know that 'special' doesn't always mean a good thing in this world, right?" Kate remarked, one eyebrow raised. Not that she didn't think he was special in a positive way. But it had to be said. She couldn't have stopped herself if she had wanted to.

Tybalt's own eyebrow twitched upward at that, a smirk still playing over his lips.

"A play on the word, is it? Ah, but what word is there that does not possess such a double-meaning? So long as man is capable of dishonest notions, there will be words which a dictionary will define in a positive light, presented with barbs and thorns to prick where normally they might soothe."

Heck, Tybalt's own dialect involved a large number of insults that, at first glance, probably didn't sound like insults at all.

... Many of which seemed to, for whatever reason, involve cheese.

"And so, now I hesitate to ask if I should be taking thy words as such a prick, and as such be considered a prick myself, or, should I allow pride to play on thy words and turn my back to that other meaning, thus negating the sting and therefore remaining, simply, special."

It was entirely possible that he was really, really laying it on thick with the Verona tongue on purpose now, yes.

And you could almost see the concentration on the girl's face as she listened. She had read old plays – because yes, that was what he sounded like – but it still took some effort to follow his speech.

At least she didn't take too long to answer. "That's for me to know and for you to find out." Not the best nor the snarkiest answer, but still better than just blurting out you're a prick. And the smirk was still there.

"Well, then I pray I shall find out soon," Tybalt replied, grinning a little more broadly. Oh, yes, he was totally chocking this conversation up to 'personal victory' status, even if there hadn't actually been any sort of formal competition in the first place.

He was absolutely a prick, that way.

Informal competition there had been, oh yes, and as one side recognized victory, the other tried to come to terms with losing. Oh, next time she'd be better prepared.

"You do that," Kate nodded, then kind of pretended to be preoccupied with watching Bobby.

Bobby wasn't even doing anything interesting, damn him.

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The Valley Campfire: Monday Afternoon

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