fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Fourth Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

Wes was having a... strange day. For one thing, he still had a few globs of pie filling in his hair from his Badass class earlier, and he was still annoyed at the way his Science of Deduction teacher had criticized his "tiny brain." So he retreated to the common room to decompress. Showering might have been a better choice, but sitting in the common room with a stack of books seemed more appealing. So he did.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

One end of Dolf's mouth went up despite his say so. "That's just stuff out of fairytales," he said, then faltered. "...Right?"

Try as he might, he couldn't completely rid himself of several months' worth of experience with faith in the supernatural.

"In your world, it might very well be," Wesley said gently. Argh. There was a speech that he had to memorize when he was younger, a really candid explanation of vampires and demons and stuff that he had been taught should be the first thing he should ever tell a Slayer. He couldn't for the life of him remember it, though. So he decided to wing it. "Because almost every student here comes from a different reality, each person is accustomed to different perspectives on what is real and what is, as you say, fairy tales. No one belief is wrong or right, but each is tailored specifically to the individual's experience in his or her home dimension."

Wow. That was probably even better than the Slayer speech. He was pretty proud of that, actually. Kind of smug, even.

"So what you're trying to tell me is that everything is real?" Dolf said, hesitantly. It was a frightening thought, and he felt a little closer to ten than twenty all of a sudden.

But, then again, was there anyone outside of Doctor Simiak's circle who truly believed time travel was possible?

"So... tell me. Has anyone gone back in time, where you're from?"

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it, yes," he admitted. Aw, man, did he scare him? He was always scaring people. He attempted damage control: "It's not meant to be - to be alarming, however, because your own reality is likely exactly as you perceive it, without the 'fairy tale stuff,' as you put it."

"Back in time? I don't believe so," he said hesitantly. "I certainly haven't."

"I have," Dolf said, cautiously. "I went back to the thirteenth century. Is that 'fairy tale stuff' to you?"

"Somewhat, yes," he admitted. "I mean, there's a great deal of speculation as to when time travel will eventually be made possible, and what it will entail, but for the most part it's quite a mystery. What was it like?"

"Harsh," he admitted. "Everyone was always hungry and cold. There was no one to rely on but ourselves, and almost everyone was disinterested. It was strange, at first. But so is this."

Wes had been to a fair number of inhospitable dimensions himself, so he could kind of relate. Which raised the question, "If you don't mind my asking, why were you there?" he asked.

...

Dolf flushed red again, and it was a little brighter this time. "I wanted to see the knights jousting at Montgivray," he admitted, "And my father has a friend who had a prototype time machine, so I thought I'd try to convince him to let me test it."

He was... trying to make that sound less stupidly reckless than it had been.

Oh, Wesley didn't think it was stupidly reckless at all. Actually, he thought it was just about the coolest thing he'd ever heard.

"Fascinating," he breathed. "Truly. I'm rather a fan of swordsmanship myself, so I can understand the urge to see it during its prime. Did you enjoy the jousts, at least?"

Well, at least that meant he didn't need to get terribly defensive about it.

"Actually, there was an error," Dolf continued, relaxing, the red fading quickly from his skin. "I wound up in Speyers, not Montgivray. I do know how to swing a sword around now, though. A little. I'm not a fighter."

"Then that's not too bad," Wesley reasoned. "So long as you ended up profiting from the experience. I suppose you managed to get home safely and all that?"

"This was supposed to be me getting home," Dolf said, ruefully.

And, alright, a little self-indulgent about his own misery, but he was allowed.

Ooh. Well. That was bad.

"Well... at least it's safe here," Wesley tried. Hopefully Dolf hadn't gotten attacked by monsters or anything. "There are certainly worse dimensions to get stuck in, at any rate."

"It is safe, and there's food," Dolf agreed, and kind of wanted to kick his legs out at something, but there wasn't anything. "How did you get here?" A pause. "...And what is your name? Sorry, I hadn't thought to ask."

"Oh, I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he said, embarrassed that he hadn't thought to introduce himself before. "And yourself?"

Then he answered, "I took a Portal here from home. That's a means of moving rapidly between dimensions. My father sent me here."

"Rudolf," Dolf said, used to using that in any language close to Germanic, then caught himself. "Dolf Wega," he ammended. "People can send you here?"

"Yes..." answered Wesley, kind of confused by that, because how else would people get here? "Did you suppose everyone else came here by accident?" he laughed.

Dolf shrugged, and absolutely refused to blush again. "They could be," he said, stubbornly.

Realizing that may have come across as a wee bit offensive, Wesley admitted, "Yes, quite right, I suppose they could. I'm sure quite a few people do, in fact."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fourth Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject