When a rare guitarist meets a moon person at the mall....
Who: Faustina and Oz
Where: Sunnydale Mall
When: Saturday afternoon
Oz wandered through the mall, not really looking for anything in particular. He'd felt a little out of the loop since returning to Sunnydale. His friends were busy with Dingo Ate my Baby, and since he was no longer a part of that he found himself without much to do. Of course, once the new band he'd joined decided to start having practice he'd probably have more to take up his time - but they all seemed pretty unorganized at the moment.
Eventually, Oz found himself at the food court, and he got himself a soda before taking up a table and people watching.
Faustina, a strange looking young lady with a tribal facial tatoo was sitting at a nearby table, utterly perplexed by a plate of chinese food that she'd obtained at the food court. All they had given her to eat it with was a pair of sticks. She studied the food, and the sticks, trying to figure out how this was supposed to work. "Huh..."
Oz's gaze fell on the nearby woman, watching her stare at her food in befuddlement. "I never understood the whole chopstick concept," he said to her, his expression showing that he felt her pain.
"I do not understand this," Faustina said, holding up the sticks to show him. "Does the food go on here? Do you nudge it into your mouth with them? The lady said ' no more fork, you eat with stick!' But how, she did not explain..." Humans had so many strange customs - she wasn't aware that stick-eating was one of the many things she hadn't grasped yet.
"Well it's a pretty complex process," Oz said. "The ancient art of eating with sticks is not to be taken lightly."
He shrugged. "I don't actually know how to do it - but I bet you can snag a fork over there at the Italian place."
"Italian?" Faustina looked over to where he was pointing - and smiled. "Oh yes, the place with the pizza. I should have chosen that to begin with - no complicated parts." She gave him a grateful smile, then got up to explain her need for a fork to the Italians. She returned a short time later, brandishing the plastic utensil triumphantly. "Thank you!"
"Excellent, the American way of life prevails," Oz said.
Faustina started eating her food, with the fork! It was much easier than the confusing sticks. She glanced back over towards the boy who had given her such good advice. He seemed unusual somehow - not quite like the other humans, and not just because he was sensible either. "What are you?" she asked, curious.
"I'm an Oz," he said, noting the use of what rather than who, and hoping it was because she just had an odd way of phrasing things. "A rare breed of gutairist."
"Oh... well, hello an Oz. I am a Faustina of the moon people," the girl said, and held out a hand to him for the custom of handshaking. After a moment's thought, she set the fork down and tried the gesture again.
"Just Oz is fine," he said, shaking her hand once it was devoid of fork. He almost let it go, but finally couldn't help but say, "...Moon people?"
"F'ela'ar'kr-an-ish-ka'h," Faustina said, giving the proper name of her clan. "But this is hard for humans to say, so we call outselves 'the moon people', as we are attuned to it."
Oz couldn't help the weird sweep of nervous energy that went through him as she explained. He was pretty "attuned" to the moon himself. "Oh yeah? How so?"
"We derive power from the moon- she is our godess," Faustina said. She picked up her plate of food and came to sit at Oz-the-rare-guitarist's table as she wanted to speak to him more as she ate. "We dwell in the mountains, to be closer to her - but this is my Year of Choosing, so I have come down to live among the world."
Oz took a sip of his soda, nodding as he listened. "Huh. Cool. Year of choosing what?"
"Choosing whether to live among the world, or to return home to my people," Faustina said, frowning as she thought of it. "It is a very difficult decision. If I do not go back... I may never return. And if I return... I may never come back here."
"Like the Amish?" Oz said. "So are you leaning one way or the ther yet?"
"I have not heard of the Amish clan," Faustina said, then took another few bites of her food before answering the other question. "There are so many things here that are wonderous - we are simple in the mountains. But... it is lonely here, too. So many people, and yet you speak to someone so briefly, then often never again. I have made no connections. At home, everyone knows everyone..."
"Yeah, that's true," Oz said, thinking about his meeting with everyone at the diner the other day. How for the majority of it, the only person who'd spoken directly to him was the waitress when he asked her for a drink. "It can take a lot of work to make friends with people."
"Do you know how to make friends?" Faustina asked, her eyes wide with hope. If the rare guitarist would teach her to make friends, then she would enjoy her time here much more. It might make her decision easier. "This is a skill I need to learn, Oz."
"Uh, it's like a three step process," Oz said. "You meet, then you hang out, and then next thing you know you're meeting and hanging out all the time."
Faustina pondered this. "We have met, Oz-rare-guitarist, and this... this is hanging out, yes? So will we then meet and hang out again, and thereby be friends?" She thought that seemed quite agreeable, and gave him a big smile.
"Yeah pretty much," he said. Of course Oz tended to oversimplfy things, but he in his opinion there really wasn't any reason why it shouldn't be that easy.
"How will we know where to find each other again?" Faustina asked. This was part of the problem. Sunnydale was a larger area than she was used to living in, and there were far more people - and they never seemed to be in the same place when she returned to it to seek them.
"Ah, yeah, that's the planning stage of things," Oz said. He hadn't been at school recently, so he wasn't sure if she was there or not. "Well, are you spending your days at Sunnydale High? Because I'm there a lot. Well, not really a lot, but sometimes."
"I have not been to this place," Faustina said. "How high is it?" If it was tall, it would be easy enough to locate.
Oz's lips quirked into a smile. "The high school. You know, where us delinquents go to learn."
"Oh! A school," Faustina said. "I have heard of these places. Will they allow me to be there? There is much I need to learn - perhaps it is a good idea that I spend my days in this place."
"That's kind of what they're there for." And Oz was sure they were always looking for some new poor student to torment. "If you go talk to the principle, he'll probably let you in."
"I will do this," Faustina said, smiling more. "Thank you rare guitarist - you are most wise in the ways of humanity."
Where: Sunnydale Mall
When: Saturday afternoon
Oz wandered through the mall, not really looking for anything in particular. He'd felt a little out of the loop since returning to Sunnydale. His friends were busy with Dingo Ate my Baby, and since he was no longer a part of that he found himself without much to do. Of course, once the new band he'd joined decided to start having practice he'd probably have more to take up his time - but they all seemed pretty unorganized at the moment.
Eventually, Oz found himself at the food court, and he got himself a soda before taking up a table and people watching.
Faustina, a strange looking young lady with a tribal facial tatoo was sitting at a nearby table, utterly perplexed by a plate of chinese food that she'd obtained at the food court. All they had given her to eat it with was a pair of sticks. She studied the food, and the sticks, trying to figure out how this was supposed to work. "Huh..."
Oz's gaze fell on the nearby woman, watching her stare at her food in befuddlement. "I never understood the whole chopstick concept," he said to her, his expression showing that he felt her pain.
"I do not understand this," Faustina said, holding up the sticks to show him. "Does the food go on here? Do you nudge it into your mouth with them? The lady said ' no more fork, you eat with stick!' But how, she did not explain..." Humans had so many strange customs - she wasn't aware that stick-eating was one of the many things she hadn't grasped yet.
"Well it's a pretty complex process," Oz said. "The ancient art of eating with sticks is not to be taken lightly."
He shrugged. "I don't actually know how to do it - but I bet you can snag a fork over there at the Italian place."
"Italian?" Faustina looked over to where he was pointing - and smiled. "Oh yes, the place with the pizza. I should have chosen that to begin with - no complicated parts." She gave him a grateful smile, then got up to explain her need for a fork to the Italians. She returned a short time later, brandishing the plastic utensil triumphantly. "Thank you!"
"Excellent, the American way of life prevails," Oz said.
Faustina started eating her food, with the fork! It was much easier than the confusing sticks. She glanced back over towards the boy who had given her such good advice. He seemed unusual somehow - not quite like the other humans, and not just because he was sensible either. "What are you?" she asked, curious.
"I'm an Oz," he said, noting the use of what rather than who, and hoping it was because she just had an odd way of phrasing things. "A rare breed of gutairist."
"Oh... well, hello an Oz. I am a Faustina of the moon people," the girl said, and held out a hand to him for the custom of handshaking. After a moment's thought, she set the fork down and tried the gesture again.
"Just Oz is fine," he said, shaking her hand once it was devoid of fork. He almost let it go, but finally couldn't help but say, "...Moon people?"
"F'ela'ar'kr-an-ish-ka'h," Faustina said, giving the proper name of her clan. "But this is hard for humans to say, so we call outselves 'the moon people', as we are attuned to it."
Oz couldn't help the weird sweep of nervous energy that went through him as she explained. He was pretty "attuned" to the moon himself. "Oh yeah? How so?"
"We derive power from the moon- she is our godess," Faustina said. She picked up her plate of food and came to sit at Oz-the-rare-guitarist's table as she wanted to speak to him more as she ate. "We dwell in the mountains, to be closer to her - but this is my Year of Choosing, so I have come down to live among the world."
Oz took a sip of his soda, nodding as he listened. "Huh. Cool. Year of choosing what?"
"Choosing whether to live among the world, or to return home to my people," Faustina said, frowning as she thought of it. "It is a very difficult decision. If I do not go back... I may never return. And if I return... I may never come back here."
"Like the Amish?" Oz said. "So are you leaning one way or the ther yet?"
"I have not heard of the Amish clan," Faustina said, then took another few bites of her food before answering the other question. "There are so many things here that are wonderous - we are simple in the mountains. But... it is lonely here, too. So many people, and yet you speak to someone so briefly, then often never again. I have made no connections. At home, everyone knows everyone..."
"Yeah, that's true," Oz said, thinking about his meeting with everyone at the diner the other day. How for the majority of it, the only person who'd spoken directly to him was the waitress when he asked her for a drink. "It can take a lot of work to make friends with people."
"Do you know how to make friends?" Faustina asked, her eyes wide with hope. If the rare guitarist would teach her to make friends, then she would enjoy her time here much more. It might make her decision easier. "This is a skill I need to learn, Oz."
"Uh, it's like a three step process," Oz said. "You meet, then you hang out, and then next thing you know you're meeting and hanging out all the time."
Faustina pondered this. "We have met, Oz-rare-guitarist, and this... this is hanging out, yes? So will we then meet and hang out again, and thereby be friends?" She thought that seemed quite agreeable, and gave him a big smile.
"Yeah pretty much," he said. Of course Oz tended to oversimplfy things, but he in his opinion there really wasn't any reason why it shouldn't be that easy.
"How will we know where to find each other again?" Faustina asked. This was part of the problem. Sunnydale was a larger area than she was used to living in, and there were far more people - and they never seemed to be in the same place when she returned to it to seek them.
"Ah, yeah, that's the planning stage of things," Oz said. He hadn't been at school recently, so he wasn't sure if she was there or not. "Well, are you spending your days at Sunnydale High? Because I'm there a lot. Well, not really a lot, but sometimes."
"I have not been to this place," Faustina said. "How high is it?" If it was tall, it would be easy enough to locate.
Oz's lips quirked into a smile. "The high school. You know, where us delinquents go to learn."
"Oh! A school," Faustina said. "I have heard of these places. Will they allow me to be there? There is much I need to learn - perhaps it is a good idea that I spend my days in this place."
"That's kind of what they're there for." And Oz was sure they were always looking for some new poor student to torment. "If you go talk to the principle, he'll probably let you in."
"I will do this," Faustina said, smiling more. "Thank you rare guitarist - you are most wise in the ways of humanity."