fandomhighdorms | Roof, Sunday Afternoon

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@roof,
alana

Roof, Sunday Afternoon

So Alana had these different parts for a weekend, and she'd finally worked up the courage to give them a good workout. She'd tried it by herself in her room, but, honestly, that didn't really do anything for her. She was going to need to do this in public.

Which was why a nervous-looking young man let himself onto the roof -- shirtless despite the early spring chill -- flexed his muscles, and then went to the edge of the roof. And once he was there, he spread a lovely green set of wings and flew.

".... WOOOHOOOOOO"

Alana yelped with delight as she steered herself in circles around the dorm's upper stories. Turned out flying was a lot easier and more fun with unclipped wings.

[OOC: I had to. Open roof, or you can spot her out your window.]

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It had been a weird weekend so far. Okay, not bad, just all over the place. Weird.

Dante needed a smoke. And maybe some fresh air. The roof seemed like the best option, so he was heading up the stairs, pack of cigarettes already in hand, and--

"Huh." He stared up. Yeah. That was. Uh. Definitely someone flying. He caught himself a few seconds later, and managed a perfectly functional, "...How's the feather up there?"

"For the birds," Alana returned easily, and flew down to hover in the air a couple yards from Dante's head. "Hey there! God, that's a rush."

She didn't bother introducing herself, but she didn't think Dante would have too hard a time figuring it out.

Yeah, the wings kind of made it an easy one, though so did a process of elimination.

Dante blinked up at her.

Then he slipped a cigarette between his lips in an attempt to wipe the 'huh' off his own face. "I didn't know you could do that," he said.

"I can't," Alana told him. "Long story, but boy-me is a hell of a lot better at flying than girl-me."

She tried a somersault in the air to demonstrate, but turned it into a loop when she realized she had no idea what to do with her legs. She'd have to work on that one.

"It's only for the weekend, but it's fucking awesome while it lasts."

"You definitely know how to cut it like that," Dante said. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "That's weird, though."

The her not being able to fly usually part. Not the flying part. Apparently.

"Rude," Alana said, not sounding terribly put out. She went back to flying lazy figure eights around the roof.

A moment later, it occurred to her to add, "Wait, which part is weird?"

"That you can't usually do that," Dante called. He hadn't really minded her flying off again, because it was cool to watch, but... "I know you said it's complicated, but what?"

This was a conversation she had to land for.

"It's called wingbleeding," Alana said, as she came to a rest heavily on her feet. "Think of it as like circumcision for girls' wings."

There was something guarded in her face: She knew from past experience that this particular cultural tradition did not tend to play well in Fandom.

"So guys get to fly and you don't," Dante said.

He didn't like playing to the guarded in her expression, exactly, but he was a boy with a sword called Rebellion etched on his soul; he had to go with a quiet, "That's fucked up."

"That's what everybody says," Alana reported. "Never bugged me back home -- it's not like even the guys fly that much -- but weekends like this make me feel like I missed out."

"It's something they can do that you can't," Dante said, shrugging. "Can't see how that's not fucked up, even if they don't do it." Beat. "It looks pretty damn cool from down here."

"It just never felt fucked up," Alana repeated. "I mean, I guess it is, but you guys are way more fucked up about the boy-girl thing than we are. Like, your whole hang-up about girls not wanting sex is really not a thing at home."

Though in an ideal world, Alana would be able to fly and want sex.

She sighed. "Anyhow. It feels cool. I'd offer to take you up but I'm not sure I can lift you."

"I'm good watching from here," Dante promised ~~because he was a year off from being able to sort-of join her~~. He sat down on the roof, finally digging around his pocket for his lighter. "You've never felt like going 'hey, why can I fly and not this guy'?"

"I guess? But no more than 'hey, how come her family is richer than mine' or 'hey, how come this person can sing and I can't,'" Alana shrugged. "You know. Basic life-isn't-fair stuff."

"Yeah, but... someone did that to you," Dante said slowly.

He really wanted to let it go - didn't like being the stick in the mud - but for him, that was a big deal.

"Somebody cuts off the tips of a lot of guys' dicks, and most of them don't spend their whole lives crying over it," Alana said. "It's cultural. But to be honest, between how amazing flying feels and the way people react to wingbleeding here -- I probably will skip it if I have a daughter someday."

Edited 2016-04-04 16:34 (UTC)

"It isn't the same, Alana," Dante said.

That sentence had a sense of finality about it, though - or at least the implication he wasn't going to press it beyond that point. "But at least you're enjoying yourself."

"Maybe it isn't," Alana said more softly, feeling an unfamiliar soreness on her back muscles that only came with energetic flying. "But I can't remember anything different."

"Anyhow," she said, with more characteristic breeziness, "I am. I'm still not sure how much distance these things are good for, but they should at least get me into town. Want to follow?"

"Sure, but I'm going to have to go the old-fashioned way," Dante said, jabbing his thumb towards the stairs.

He sounded distracted. The whole exchange had him back in his own head, trying to field this budding sense of unfairness he was feeling about something he couldn't do shit about and he shouldn't really give a shit about.

Yeah, Alana thought it might be best to leave Dante alone with his thoughts for a while. She still wasn't angry about the wingbleeding, but that didn't mean she wanted to defend it.

"See you soon," she called, and jumped off the roof, letting herself fall for a long moment before righting herself in midair. Landfallians weren't built for distance flight no matter what, but she made it easily off the school grounds and toward the shops in town. She flew slowly and only about 10 feet off the ground, trying to keep an eye out for Dante as she went.

Yeah, the walk was good on Dante. He generally subscribed to the point of view that everything was fucked up and they were all doomed anyway - or at least he was - so it shouldn't really matter.

By the time he hit the streets outside the school campus, he'd happily buried whatever upsurge of-- whatever idealistic bullshit he'd just felt-- under a few more layers of nihilistic rubble.

"How do you feel about ice cream?" he called.

Okay, it was cold and sugary nihilistic rubble. So sue him.

Edited 2016-04-04 19:32 (UTC)

Cold, sugary nihilistic rubble was the very best kind.

"Sure, I like ice cream," Alana said as she fell into step beside him, pulling a tank top out of a belt loop and working it over her head. " And I think I just burned like a bazillion calories, so probably I need it."

"Yeah, you were definitely going to town on the flying thing," Dante said, shooting her an easy grin. Teasingly, he added, "Might want to pack on the protein and hit Outback later."

"If that's you offering to buy me dinner, this is me accepting," Alana teased, grinning back. "Otherwise it'll be Mooby's protein for me."

Dante still had a couple of bills left in his wallet from his last trip down to Limbo City, so he shrugged. "Sure," he said. "But the T-bone is mine alone, all right?"

Innuendo... sort of unintended? Maybe?

Alana would end up chipping in her share, anyhow. She wasn't trying to make anybody go broke.

"You don't want to even give me a taste of the t-bone?" she asked, nudging him with a shoulder. "And here I thought you were all about sharing."

"Nope," Dante said merrily. He nudged her back. "You gotta earn your steak, Alana. That's how it works."

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Roof, Sunday Afternoon

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