fandomhighdorms | Dorm roof, Tuesday afternoon

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Dorm roof, Tuesday afternoon

It was a particularly gorgeous day out, and Tip didn't have any classes or work or anything she needed to get done. She did have a care package from home, full of snacks from Mom's current grocery store (which included basically anything that would stand up to being dipped or coated in dark chocolate), a case of birch beer, and the world's ugliest belt, courtesy of J.Lo.

She was absolutely rocking that ugly ass belt, thank you. She was also munching on chocolate covered edamame and flipping through the paperback her mom had sent her (a cheesy looking YA romance about gay dragons, excellent) and kicking her feet out into the open air in a manner that would probably make anyone afraid of heights moan and cringe. Rihanna was playing on her phone, the sun was shining on her face, and all was right and pleasant in the world.

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Tip was not expecting that.

She also had zero ability to fly.

Bill shot out into the air, creating giant bubble formations of distress. Tip screamed bloody murder and flailed a lot. It was probably very interesting to observe.

Especially the part where the ugly belt Tip was wearing suddenly erupted into large rubbery safety balloons to cushion her landing. It still knocked the wind out of her, and she couldn't see a thing other than the slowly deflating balloons, but she didn't break her neck -- or even any limbs -- so the experiment couldn't be called a complete failure.

"PERIDOT YOU POOMP!" she bellowed as soon as she got her lungs full again. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

She wasn't even going to ask for a pardon for that language. It was well and truly earned.

See Peridot. See Peridot peering over the edge of the roof with an almost catlike sense of curiosity.

"YOU DIDN'T FLY," she called back, sounding appropriately scandalized. Tip, you were ruining her hypothesis! "WHY DIDN'T YOU FLY?"

It was a little sad that this was not the first time Tip had fallen several stories while interacting with an alien. It was the first time she'd been pushed, though.

She fought her way through the rapidly deflating safety balloons and stomped towards the dorm's entrance.

And then to the stairs.

And all the way up the stairs.

And back out onto the roof.

Where she panted for a few moments, finger pointing accusingly, before she finally managed to respond "HUMAN BEINGS DON'T FLY."

EXCUSE YOU, GRATUITY. 'H IS FOR HERO' DISAGREED WITH YOU STRONGLY.

...

Maybe she just needed a cape?

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?!"

Asking, Peridot. Asking would have answered that question for you super quick.

"ASK!" Wasn't it nice when the narrative and the characters agreed? "You didn't push any insects off the roof! I could have died!"

Bill circled above them, still spouting excited bubbles everywhere. Tip was reasonably certain he was cursing.

"Don't do that again," Tip said. "Don't ever do that again. Most people won't be wearing belts with safety balloons in them!"

Admittedly, most people also wouldn't be sitting on the edge of the roof without some method of making sure they wouldn't fall and die.

"Well there weren't any insects for me to push," Peridot replied, sounding as reasonable as she could be while she was being yelled at by a human. "What do you mean, you could have died?"

Humans weren't that squidgy, were they? Really?

Oh yes. They absolutely were.

"I mean I could have broken my neck or -- or knocked my head in or -- splattered on a sidewalk! I'm not made of rock, Peridot, I'm made of . . . meat."

Gross.

Super gross.

Probably. Peridot had no idea what a human's insides looked like, but 'splatter' sounded properly horrifying. She resolved to pick up a book on human anatomy as soon as she better understood the written word. Maybe once she was finished with the workbook she had.

That seemed reasonable.

"I was under the impression that your bodies fixed most of the damage dealt to them! It's why you eat!"

Something had apparently been lost in translation, there. She did pause for a moment, though, and look over the edge of the roof again.

"... Damaging you was... not my intention, though."

That was kind of apologetic.

"Not immediately," Tip said. "Healing takes time, and some damage is too big. Just -- don't do that kind of thing again. If you wanna know something, ask. If it's something we can do, I don't mind demonstrating."

She might regret that if Peridot got interested in bodily functions.

Like eating! And all that entailed!

Peridot probably wouldn't remain interested long enough for that to come to anything unfortunate, at least.

"... Nothing that might bring damage to a human body," Peridot replied, frowning a bit, but nodding. Is there something I can use to be sure? Some standard I can test by?"

"About whether you're going to damage a human?" Tip asked. "Uh. I mean. Different humans have different limits. So I guess just . . . go slow and if they say stop or 'ow', then -- stop. But mostly just ask. People know a lot about their own limits."

Please pardon just how skeptical Peridot looked at that. Homeworld had never really been big on things like asking permission or respecting bodily autonomy. She'd made up her mind to follow the advice, but it was still kind of a new concept.

"... And you're sure asking is all it takes?"

"Well, it's not a guarantee. But if you ask and they say yes and then they get hurt then it's at least partially their fault." She tilted her head, studying Peridot. "And you have to be ready for them to say 'no', too."

"Or giving completely unhelpful answers entirely," Peridot agreed, frowning as she remembered the coffee shop, and the frustrating boy's unwillingness to explain anything back on the deck. "In my experience, asking only yields useful results in a small percentage of scenarios."

"Learning to read will help with that," Tip offered. "Books are usually better at explaining things than people."

"They're less likely to get angry at me for asking too many questions," Peridot mumbled, looking down at her book again. "I'm looking forward to being able to make my way through a book without having to stop to second-guess if what I'm reading is even part of what gets said aloud."

"Maybe you could try audiobooks," Tip suggested.

"... Try what?"

THIS WAS THE FIRST PERIDOT HAD EVER HEARD OF THESE.

"Audiobooks? They're recordings of books being read out loud. For people to listen to if they can't see or have to concentrate on looking at other things or have some other trouble with written words."

Peridot was squinting in thought, then.

"... Recordings of books that are also in a written format?"

"Yup. Hey, maybe you could get the book and the audio and follow along, see if that helps you get the letters down."

Peridot gave her head a nod. A perilous, triangular nod.

"That's what I was thinking," she agreed, and now she was standing up and pacing again. "I know enough of the letters now to be able to tell if I'm completely off-track. I should be able to use these 'audiobooks' in order to help me figure out the differences between words from there."

"Good plan," Tip said. Then noticed a flaw. ". . . You don't have a phone or a computer yet, do you?"

Yeah, that was a bit of a glaring flaw, wasn't it?

"With my screen still broken? No." Peridot tilted her head a little. "What's a phone?"

Tip pulled hers out and held it up. "It's a little computer that lets you look up things on the internet and play games and watch videos and listen to music and things." A beat. "And talk to other people long distance."

No one Tip's age used their phone that way, though. Not unless forced to by a parent or someone.

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