fandomhighdorms | Dorm Front Lawn, Sunday Afternoon

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Dorm Front Lawn, Sunday Afternoon

It was a lovely day today. Exactly the sort of day to spread a blanket out on the lawn, wear sunglasses, read a book and enjoy the sunshine.

Elsa -- usually an ice princess, but temporarily a polar bear cub -- was scampering around on the lawn, making the most adorable honk-growling noises. There was a very localized sort of storm around the cub: the lawn was frosting over under Elsa's feet. Little snowflakes danced in the air; Elsa was striving valiantly to catch them on her tongue.

It was incredibly cute. In fact, Eleanor was too busy watching to get very far in her book.

If anyone asked about the implausible snow, Eleanor would claim there was some Fandom-ish weather strangeness going on. Hopefully, they'd be too distracted by the adorableness to question that.

(SO VERY OPEN.)

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Joker had noticed Eleanor and Elsa while looking out the common room window, and just had to head on down to see in person. Sure, he wasn't really all that much of an animal person, but c'mon, this was adorable.

He wandered up with a big grin on his face. "She is going to be absolutely mortified when she changes back," he commented. "Which... seriously, any day now, Elsa. I'm starting to get worried, here."

"As am I," Eleanor said with a frown. "I'm growing concerned about her diet. Polar bears need to fill up on fat during these summer months to survive the lean of winter ahead, but I haven't the heart to kill seals for her."

Not unless it proved to be absolutely necessary.

"Still?" Celia greeted Eleanor with a raised eyebrow towards Elsa. "I would've thought the poor thing'd change back by now."

A pause, and then, "Not that she isn't absolutely adorable this way. Oh, god. I hope she doesn't remember me fawning over her, because I'm going to and normal-Elsa might not love that."

"I'm pretty sure winter's a long way off," Joker pointed out. He hadn't sat down yet -- to his shame, he was secretly enjoying being taller than her just for a moment. "If it gets to be winter and she's still a bear, her diet's really not what you should be concerned about. Besides, I don't think there are any seals around here, anyway. Unless you plan to sneak into the aquarium with a club?"

"She sleeps in my arms at night," Eleanor said. "She insists upon burrowing in. It's marvelous, but another thing I hope she forgets."

Elsa, for her part, was honk-growling a greeting at Celia. Hello! Hello! Could she nip at the ankles, please? ANKLES!

"I don't know how long transformations last," she added. "I'm getting a touch worried myself."

"Perhaps those fat reserves translate into something of her own metabolism," Eleanor said. "I don't want her to change back emaciated and undernourished."

She was unclear on the metaphysics of all of it, if that was even the right word.

She tilted her head back so she could stare up at him. "I can't imagine it," she admitted. "Letting her get fish from the sea is one thing, but brutally cudgeling a wide-eyed seal is a touch beyond what I can muster."

"Has it been longer than a week?" Celia asked, dropping to her knees to let her skirts pool around her, so she could reach out to scritch Elsa behind her ears. There might have been face-making, but Celia would never admit to it. "I feel like if it goes longer than a week, someone should consult a doctor, or...Principal Winchester, or something. She seems like she's quite taken to bear living, though."

"A week as of last night," Eleanor said, looking thoughtfully at the Elsa-bear. "I've been making sure she gets enough food, but ... I suppose you may be right. About ... seeing a doctor."

Forgive the involuntary shudder. She would be brave, for Elsa. And she'd hover and make sure no one turned her into a lab rat, if it killed her.

"She catches fish?" Joker asked, incredulously. "I wouldn't've thought she was big enough. That's adorable!" He peered at Elsa thoughtfully. "She doesn't look malnourished to me. And I'm sure bears can eat things other than seals. In fact, I'm pretty sure they can eat just about anything."

He gave Eleanor a grin. "You know, most girls wouldn't take kindly to someone trying to fatten them up."

Celia looked up from where she was playing with Elsa, frowning. "I wouldn't worry, Eleanor," she said gently. "She seems happy and healthy, and...well, you heard Ender. This sort of thing happens all the time. And I don't even know what I'm talking about -- it's not as though I see doctors very often. They might not have any idea what to do with her."

Or they might recommend a veterinarian.

Edited 2014-06-08 21:41 (UTC)

"Have you seen Elsa?" Eleanor asked, raising an eyebrow. "She's got quite the delicate frame. I've no doubt she's healthy, but a few more pounds wouldn't go amiss on her. Or are we to discuss societal expectations for women instead?"

He would enjoy that conversation a lot less.

"And yes, she catches the fish and romps about with them," Eleanor said, sounding a bit like a proud parent. "I ought to record it somehow."

"The clinic may know what to make of her ailment, though," Eleanor said, musing. "I suppose I have to overcome my phobias sooner or later. This would be a reasonable push in that direction."

Or she could make someone else do it. Like Joker. He liked doctors.

"They're not phobias when they're justified," Celia noted softly, reaching out to take Elsa by her forepaws and wrestle with her a bit. Again, denying if anyone mentioned it later. "I could try and change her back, but she'd probably still act like a polar bear, unfortunately."

Not that that wouldn't be hilarious.

Joker shrugged. "It was just supposed to be a joke," he explained. "I didn't mean... Look, I'm well aware of societal expectations, and how much it all sucks -- it does get better, though."

He watched Elsa romping and grinned again. "Definitely need to record it," he agreed. He tapped a few things, and a glowing light encased his hand as his omnitool started up. He then pointed his palm at Elsa, so he could start recording her antics. "An omnitool might be a bit much -- I know it gets me some strange looks, around here. You need a phone, is what you need."

"But if she does remember, the shade of pink she turns will be just as adorable," Joker replied with a smirk. "Either way, I'm taking some video now, 'cause this is just too cute."

"A phone?" Eleanor was going to let the other matter drop to focus on watching him use the weird ... arm-tool in order to ... record Elsa. "Phones make calls. I wanted the visual, not just audio."

Eleanor tried to stifle a giggle. But she failed. Horribly.

When she finally recovered herself, her eyes were still dancing.

"Absolutely not," she said. Do not ask her how tempted she'd been, Celia. That would be so adorable.

Okay, giggling again.

"Oh, yes, by all means, record her," Celia encouraged, taking that opportunity to make sure she wouldn't be in the shot. "I mean, she might not really appreciate how cute she was without seeing it secondhand, anyway."

"She'd probably still make that noise," Celia pointed out, clearly trying not to laugh. "And stomp around, and play with snowflakes, and never forgive me."

But it almost might be worth it, seriously.

Joker frowned, a little confused. "Right, but... No, I think we're up to smartphones, now, aren't we?"

He stopped recording Elsa for the moment, so he could poke around on the Fandom-era internet. He pulled up an image of a standard candy-bar style phone. "Yeah, no, see? Big camera on the back, smaller one on the front, touchscreen... Everybody's got one. People rarely use them to actually make phone calls. Give it a week, and you won't know how you ever lived without one."

"Hearing about something is never as good as actually seeing it," Joker agreed. "She's just lucky that I'm too much of a gentleman to post this online without asking her first. It'd get so many hits, you don't even know."

"Hits?" Celia repeated, looking concerned. "You could put that recording of her on the internet and people would be able to look at it?" She considered it, tilting her head. "That makes sense. I suppose it must all come from somewhere."

"A 'hit' is just what you call each time someone looks at something on the extranet," Joker explained. "And, yeah, someone puts up everything that's out there. Sometimes for fun, sometimes it's their job. If it's good enough, people send the link to their friends and they send it to their friends and then you get fake-famous online. I'll bet the mere thought of that would probably terrify Elsa."

"Elsa's not exactly screaming to be famous, from what I can tell," Celia agreed. "However, possession of such a recording, even without putting it out for the world to see, is a nice place to be. I'm not advocating blackmail, of course, but I can only imagine that having recordings of your friends as polar bear cubs would a better position than being the polar bear cub in question."

"Why do people own phones, if not to make phone calls?" she asked. "There's a phone in my room. Why do I need another one? Why doesn't the phone in my room have a camera on it?"

It was also larger than the weird, black prism Joker was showing her, but those questions could wait.

"You aren't helping," Eleanor said, shaking with poorly-suppressed laughter. "It's cruel to make me laugh this hard."

It would be even crueler to put a poor polar bear cub back into Elsa's normal elegant frame. She was refraining from enabling her friend. But only just.

Joker, thoroughly taken aback, raised a hand to his breast and fluttered it. He was shocked, shocked, he'd tell you! "Why, my dear Celia, blackmail?! I would never!" He chuckled. "...Actually, I wouldn't. Strictly for private embarrassment purposes only."

"If making people laugh too hard was cruel, then I am afraid I strive to be a very poor friend," Celia decided. "I'd probably get her hair wrong, or something, anyway. And there's the issue, as I mentioned, of how Elsa would probably hate me forever. So best to not even think of it as a possibility."

Except now that was all she was thinking about.

"How has cub-sitting been, anyway?" she asked. "Aside from any medical concerns. Has she been a terrible burden?"

She didn't look it, at all, but then Celia had always been partial to animals.

"You'll forgive me if I still hope you don't have that...recorder thing with you whenever I have the misfortune of turning into something," Celia said with a laugh. "It's distressingly common, suddenly. I'm half-afraid the whole island will be like a zoo before June's out."

"Honestly?" Joker replied. "To play games, mostly. Also to use as a camera, to check email, to keep track of your calendar and to-do list, to look up stuff on the extranet, to read books or watch movies or listen to the radio..." He shrugged. "Plus, people can call you even when you're not in your room. The one you've already got doesn't work when you unplug it from the wall."

"No such luck," Joker told her. "I take it everywhere. Besides, if I don't record you, someone else will. I guess the only thing to do is get a phone of your own and record everyone else. Mutually Assured Embarrassment."

"So it's ... more of a portable computer-thing that also makes phone calls than a proper phone," Eleanor said, slowly. "At least, in design and usage. How expensive are they?"

Because she was tempted. Being able to read without carrying a book around with her ... use the internet for research without finding a computer lab ... making phone calls from her job?

"Not in the least," Eleanor said easily. "The biggest worry I have is that she scratches me in her sleep. I have --"

Eleanor had tugged upwards on her shirt, to show off her midsection, but her midsection looked perfectly normal.

"-- I had scratches," she sighed. "I didn't realize they'd vanish this quickly."

Joker shrugged. "Probably somewhere between 'not very' and 'a lot', depending on what phone you want and the deal you get. However expensive they are, they're worth it. Trust me on that. I can front you some cash if you don't have enough?"

"Wouldn't that be weird?" Eleanor asked. "Oh, and I meant to tell you that I'm cancelling our date tonight. My apologies. I hope you understand why."

Bear-sitting didn't make for good make-outs.

"You heal that quickly unconsciously?" Celia asked, surprised. She leaned forward to inspect her friend's stomach, eyes narrowing. "I have to work at it, every time I heal. It's awful. I'm jealous, really."

"I have no need of a phone," Celia decided. "Aside from scenarios you're describing, anyway. I'd probably end up breaking it."

Or intentionally taking apart and then forgetting how to put it back together. Either one.

Eleanor was flushing as she tugged down her shirt. "Stem cells," she said. "They can take whatever shape they need to. They're all through my bloodstream. When I was younger, it was almost instantaneous. One girl shattered her legs jumping from a great height, and it took the doctors several tries to set the broken bones properly. They healed too fast."

"Okay, so A), no, it wouldn't be weird. I loan you money, you pay it back whenever you can. People do that. It's a thing. And B), why cancel the date? We're not leaving the island, so the restaurant has to be used to having animals every now and then, right?"

"Oh, come on, everybody has need of a phone. All of the information in the world at your fingertips, games, books, movies, music, notes, calendar, to-do list..." Joker shrugged, and gave her a wink. "Plus, when a guy asks you for your digits, you'll have some to give him."

"I have money," Eleanor said, awkwardly. "I was going to use it to buy myself summer clothes. It seems childish to burn all of that and then borrow more from you."

For the rest, she flushed and dipped her head. "It's not the restaurant that would be difficult," she said. "I suppose we could have dinner, but a very ... chaste, bowlderized sort of date."

No going to his room to kiss for a couple straight hours.

"'Bowlderized'?" Joker asked. Because somehow that was the important part. "Sure, yeah, I mean, no going at it in front of the young 'un -- that'd just be weird. I will still my eager heart and wait patiently for less bear-ful times. ...And, seriously, you need clothes and you need a phone. Let me help out where I can. It's no big."

Celia snorted at that, shaking her head. "I have never had a guy ask for my digits," she assured him, shaking her head. Which probably had more to do with the fact that everyone she would have given her number to only lived about a floor away. "And I have...books and a to-do list and a calendar that all work fine without being in a tiny computer in my pocket. Which, again, I would likely break. Besides, I don't like the notion of this...texting that everyone uses their phones for. It seems to lack thought."

"Oh my god," Celia breathed, eyes wide. "There's no rhyme or reason to it? It just -- heals, even if it's wrong?"

Poor Eleanor. Celia really wished she could take back that comment about being jealous.

"You've never heard of Thomas Bowdler?" Eleanor asked. "He republished works in what he considered to be a more appropriate manner. He omitted anything improper in case women and children were reading."

Clearly, the man considered the two to be synonymous.

"I feel odd being indebted to you," she added. "I have earned money but it slips away from me just as quickly."

Edited 2014-06-11 01:52 (UTC)

Eleanor nodded, trying not to think about the myriad ways in which something like that could be abused. And, considering Rapture, probably had been.

"It's not a conscious thing," she said with a shrug. "The body tries to heal itself. Sometimes it fails. Allergies work much the same way, on a much smaller scale."

That made it seem more ... normal, and less freakish. She hoped.

"I suppose it's useful for when one's pet polar bear likes to cuddle."

"Sounds like a copyright infringement suit waiting to happen," Joker commented. "And also a douche. But, yes, a bowdlerized evening sounds wonderful."

He gave her a shrug. "Money always slips away. That's why people are so obsessed with getting more of it. My dad's giving me a pretty generous allowance -- let me do something with it, 'kay?"

"Having to consciously heal is awful," Celia offered with a slight shrug, "but having no control over it at all sounds like a nightmare. Though handy. Polar bear claw marks aren't something I'd necessarily want to wake up and deal with."

That made it better, if she kept it light and stopped imagining bones growing back wrong.

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Dorm Front Lawn, Sunday Afternoon

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