fandomhighdorms | Second Floor Common Room [Tuesday afternoon]

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Second Floor Common Room [Tuesday afternoon]

It had been several weeks, now, since Po had arrived in this strange land, and he felt fairly educated about his new surroundings. The indoor lights and running water had fascinated him, certainly, as had these mysteries called "electronics," but he felt confident that now, at least, he understood these things in theory, if not wholly in practice.

Today, though, he was left with questions as he stared in confusion at the television. He had been told these devices were for entertainment, and thus he'd happily watched as people behind blue boxes bearing their scrawled names had answered questions about this world, moments earlier. But for the last twenty minutes, an older man had appeared and attempted to convince him that comfortable sleep was nigh unto impossible.

Po frowned as he watched, unsure what this strange man's purpose was. He made sleep seem as though it were a mission that could never be achieved without this pillow -- surely the same audience that so enjoyed the questions before wouldn't fall for this spiel? It seemed like misplaced advertising.

And, also, a really stupid pitch for a fairly useless-sounding product, but Po supposed that was neither here nor there.

[this post brought to you by the endless My Pillow infomercial that has been airing on every TV I've happened to see this week. Open!]

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Bay watched for a moment from the doorway. Playing with power tools really worked up a girl's appetite; after shop, she was both hungry and a little bored, and the common room seemed like the easiest place to solve both problems.

"God, I hate how stupid the people on things always are," she said, by way of greeting as she went toward the fridge. "The pancake maker one is even worse."

Edited 2013-01-15 16:24 (UTC)

"Pancake maker?" Po asked, glancing over at her with a small smile. "There are more like this? I can't imagine what their purpose is -- surely no one is so dim as to have this much trouble with such basic tasks."

"Like, it's a little batter pitcher and a skillet with indents?" Bay volunteered, glancing over to him with her own little smile. "And if you don't have it you're doomed to a life of inadequate pancakes. Scary part is, somebody somewhere has to be dumb enough to buy all this stuff."

"I'll readily confess I've never had to make a pancake," Po admitted, "but...it seems that the people who have cooked for me have never had need of this device. My world is a bit different from this one, and we survive without most of your modern conveniences, but while I can see the benefit of electrical lighting I simply don't see why I should invest in that pillow over my feather one."

"My dad can make pancakes, and he is not the cook in my family," Bay said. "And nobody really needs this stuff. It's mostly so cheap it'll fall apart right away anyhow."

She went into the fridge for a moment, emerged with bread, lunch meat and mustard. "I cannot imagine life without electricity. Are you adjusting okay? And do you want a sandwich?"

"I'd love a sandwich, if you're making one for yourself anyway," Po said, a bit surprised (and pleased.) "As far as adjustment goes -- every time I think I've figured this world out, something like this absurd pillow thing rears its stupid head, and I'm baffled all over again." He cocked his head at her, and added, "You're from a world similar to this one, I take it?"

Or at least, she seemed much more at ease with the kitchen than he was. Po would never admit that he was still a little afraid of all the different appliances.

Bay had a brother who was always hungry; the offer to make a second sandwich was just about automatic.

She nodded as she spread mustard on bread. "Yeah. Kansas City. It's like here except without any of the magic stuff." That seemed worth clarifying. "What's yours like?"

"Nothing like here," Po said with a small smile. "Though from what I've gathered it's like how your world was perhaps a thousand years ago, as far as technology is concerned. We do have magic, though, a form of it -- we don't think of it that way, exactly, but I imagine people from here would."

About all Bay knew about the world a thousand years before was that it was after pyramids and before the renaissance, and there were probably Vikings and plagues. Still, she got the idea that the guy was from very far away.

"There's more than one way to think about it?" she checked. "You have to walk me through this. Three weeks ago, the only magic I knew about outside movies was bunny-out-of-a-hat stuff."

"We have something called Graces," he explained. "A person may be especially gifted in one particular area, if they're Graced -- they can sense or cause weather patterns, or be a above-human archer, or something as mundane as the very best singer you've ever heard if they're Graced with music." He shrugged, and added, "I was told that some people call them 'powers,' and that might be a more familiar term. But other than us lucky few marked with Grace, my world is fairly free of magic. What I wouldn't give for a touch more, actually. Some of the things I've seen here would be incredibly useful."

"I haven't seen anything useful yet," Bay said, with a trace of skepticism. "Other than the pet dinosaur, and that's probably more cool than useful most of the time. But -- so you have some special genius ability? That is also very cool."

"My school-assigned sibling can stretch himself," Po admitted, "which sounds remarkably handy. And yes, the...dinosaur." Still a strange word to him. "She seems like she'd be more use to me than a horse, if she were trained well."

He shrugged, and added, "And yes, I'm Graced. I'm a hand-fighter, and undefeated thus far in my own kingdom." He cocked a grin at her. "If you should ever need a champion to fight for you, my lady, I'd be a good one to choose."

"Who stretches himself?" Bay asked, because that sounded intriguing. "I got a fake sister who does magic. Karla."

She flashed a smile at him as she put the sandwiches on two plates. "That's ...kind of absurdly chivalrous, but very cute." (And reminiscent of Emmett's promise that he'd always come find her, but she was making a point of not thinking about him.) "I promise, if anybody tries to beat me up I'll bug you about it."

"Evan does," Po said. "I was rather delighted with the idea. Much more useful than my abilities. I'm threatened far less often than I'm forced to try to reach things on high shelves."

"Heels help with that," Bay said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "I dunno. There have definitely been moments when I would have killed for a really good right hook."

She sat down near him, putting the plated sandwiches down on the coffee table.

"Thank you," Po said, reaching for a sandwich. He paused, thinking about it, and added, "Well, should you ever want to learn to throw a really good right hook, I'd be happy to teach you technique, at least. I've assisted all my brothers in their training -- Graced or not, it doesn't hurt to know how to fight, should the occasion arise."

Bay paused with her sandwich halfway to her mouth, surprised. "Sure," she said. "I mean, I never really thought about it, but that would not suck as a thing to know. Thanks for offering."

"You're welcome," Po replied, shrugging. "Ladies aren't much for fighting where I'm from, though there's one notable exception, but I've always thought everyone ought to learn at some point."

"Well yeah," Bay agreed. "It's not that girly where I'm from either, but even if your life is totally safe most of the time, there's always that one time things just don't go your way."

"And thus we prevent that one time," Po said amiably. "I'm Po, by the way."

"Bay," Bay said amiably. "We're both all monosyllabic."

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Second Floor Common Room [Tuesday afternoon]

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