Llamas!

In other news, I would rather be able to write good fanfiction than bad original fiction. Unfortunately, I can't manage the former, and am beyond expert at the latter.

If I moved this blog to livejournal, loyal readers (both of you), would you complain or rejoice? I'm curious. Speak to me. Validate my existence.

And now for something completely different.
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Dee was "working," which meant that he hung about in the living room with a bathrobe over his t-shirt and jeans, playing video games on his laptop. Carly was "on vacation," which meant that she hung about in the adjoining kitchen, making beef curry for dinner. They didn't always have curry; sometimes it would be stew, or takeout, or crepes and ice cream. After a year of being forced to eat bad Chinese food, pizza, and cafeteria slop, it was a relief to be able to cook food with flavor. Since Dee encouraged her culinary endeavors, it was her job to make sure he actually ate when she came home for breaks. Being able to call the place home was worth all the enforced domesticity.

"Oi, Carlsburger!" Dee's voice summoned her to the door between the two rooms.

"Yes, Mister Tallyman?" They traded stupid nicknames like baseball cards. He got bonus points every time he managed to include something food related while she was cooking, and she got gold stars for making obscure references to his first name.

"I'm in an a capella mood. Are you in an a capella mood?" He was typing busily away at his laptop, engrossed in the scans from some new holy text of Jubal's.

"Sure, Didi, I'm in an a capella mood." That earned her a Look, which made her grin.

"Load up the Beast, then. When's dinner going to be ready?"

"Half an hour or so." The Beast was Dee's stereo system, so named because it had acquired a sort of sentience over the years, and because it was frickin' huge and took up the better part of a wall. Carly rifled through Dee's considerable CD collection, picking out her favorites and a few of his. The Beast vibrated appreciatively as she fed the CDs into the appropriate slot; it had developed a liking for purely vocal music over the years. Tuvan throat singers were its favorite. She set the the feed to random and went back to the kitchen to poke at the stove.

Being home for break was nice, Carly decided as she stirred. School was fun, but it wasn't home, and there weren't nearly as many creepy rodent skeletons in the closets. It would've been nicer with her brothers around of course, but Tristan was busy tracking down a rogue Shade in Canada, and Jim still hadn't forgiven her for the whole pregnancy thing.

She didn't really blame him; she hadn't forgiven herself yet, either.

The doorbell rang, startling her out of her sudden introspection. Who the hell uses the doorbell? Everyone who'd visit already has a key or doesn't need one...

"Get that, Carls? I'm kind of busy here."

She turned the burner down and licked the spoon; it needed a little more salt. "Sure thing, Daddio," she called as she headed towards the door, followed by the sounds of a capella from the Beast. If there was anything Dee hated more than having his name made fun of, it was being called "Dad" in any way, shape, or form. She could practically hear him fuming from the other side of the house.

Being the adopted daughter of the brother-in-law of the CEO of one of the biggest record labels in the business was not only fun to try to explain to first dates, but it also came with some very sweet perks. Carly and her brothers had gotten backstage passes to Aerosmith's final concert, and all sorts of free music promotions. But it mostly meant that meeting musicians- even very famous ones- wasn't especially out of the ordinary. So it only came as a slight shock when Carly opened the door to find Lyra Ekphrasis standing on the doorstep.

She was much shorter in real life than she was on TV. But then, most people were. And she didn't normally look so much like a deer caught in someone's headlights on TV. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Hi." Her voice was soft, almost shy. "Ah...I don't suppose Dee is here? This probably isn't even his address anymore, but maybe you'd know where I could find him..."

Carly blinked. This didn't feel like a good situation to embarass the hell out of Dee, but she rarely listened to that little voice in the back of her head that gave her those feelings. "No, he's here. Hang on." She leaned back against the doorframe and shouted down the hall. "Hoy! Dad! Company! Respectable company, so put some pants on!" She turned back to the pop idol and grinned a lazy grin. The look on her face was priceless.

The look on Dee's face as he came down the hall was closer to homicidal, until he saw Lyra. Carly suddenly wished she'd listened to that little voice.

"And exit stage left," she muttered, skipping up the stairs and out of the way.

"Hey." Lyra was tiny compared to him; she barely came halfway up his chest.

"Hey. It's...been a while."

"Yeah. You look good."

"So do you." His hand reached out to brush the trailing ends of her hair, awkwardly. "Red looks good on you."

"Thanks. I...how are you doing? I didn't expect to find you here- it's been what, ten, fifteen years?"

"Seventeen years, four months, seven days, seventeen hours, and," he checked his watch. "Twenty-two minutes. But I haven't really been keeping track. I'm fine. Better, really."

She nodded. "That's good. Really good. You've got kids now, then? Are you married?"

The conversation was so stilted it hurt. "Three kids, mostly grown up. Not married. Not seeing anyone. And they're not mine- it's a long story, but they followed me home and I decided to keep them. I should've strangled them in their sleep when I had the chance-they're getting too old for slave labor."

"You could still sell them. How well are they trained? I could use a new sound tech- and maybe a piano player." Lyra kept her eyes firmly locked on her shoes as she said this. "My last one just quit, and none of the replacements have really clicked with the band, or with me..."

Dee ran a hand through his hair and rubbed at his eyes. "Lyra." His voice was broken.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here and I know this isn't fair to you- it was never fair to you, and I know I can't just show up on your doorstep because life isn't some kind of fucked up soap opera and it just doesn't work like that! I know that, I do, I just- I had to see you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I have no right." Her words came out in a rush and she stopped for breath before continuing, perfectly composed. "I'm sorry. You should hate me, and I should go."

Dee closed his eyes and swallowed against a lump in his throat. "I don't hate you."

"You should. God- you should be screaming at me, you have every right-"

"I don't hate you." He opened his eyes and sighed softly. This was a ridiculous conversation to be having when he loomed a foot an a half above her, so he dropped to his knees. They were nearly level, then. "I never did. Don't intend to start now."

"Dee-" She was crying now, just a little.

"Quiet. Just be quiet. It's been too goddamn long for either of us to make excuses. Too fucking long. I love you." His hands trembled slightly as he brushed away her tears and pulled her closer for a kiss.

She leaned against him, holding him close. "Yes." She didn't clarify any further; it was either an acknowledgement, an agreement, a prayer, and a commiseration, and it needed no other explanation.

In the other room, the CD changer clicked softly and a new song began.

Everything I need/ is right here in my hands/ right here in my hands/ right here in my hands/ Everything I need...

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GRATUITOUS SAP AND BEEF CURRY, YUM. And yes, Dee has a copy of the V8s. He used to date someone from MHC, and he stole all her CDs before they broke up. No, there is NO TIMELINE. NONE.

Augh. I like Carly's POV, but it fucks with the end. I could have her eavesdrop, but that's out of character. Don't ask about the pregnancy thing, don't ask what college she's going to, don't ask what year it is. Don't ask about that scene in the bar where Dei meets Lyra or about the scene where she leaves him.

Don't ask about the bathrobe.

The Tallyman thing comes from that song, you know, the Day-o one. "Come mister tally man, tally me banana." Normally members of the family call him Dei, which they pronounce "Dey," not to be confused with "Day," though they sound similar. The first pronunciation has the vowel formed more in the back of the mouth, with the tongue higher up. Sometimes they'll slip and pronounce it "Day," which isn't actually incorrect- since his first name is Deodat (blame the Salem Witch Trials), the first two syllables sound just like "Day-o." Tyler sometimes calls him that if he's being pissy (well, if either of them are being pissy). I'd write it "Deo" but it'd be pronounced "Day-o." Carly doesn't actually know Dei's first name, she just knows that Tyler apparently calls him Deo occasionally, and it pisses him off.

(Dei, for those who don't remember, is from his initials- D.E.I. Karolus. Don't ask about the E.)

The kids and Lyra call him Dee, because he sort of changed his name (but not really) to Dee Wexford after Boffo. (Wexford was his mother's maiden name; I have yet to decide if she's still alive. On the one hand, it's really convenient if she died when everyone else did, but on the other, her being alive provides an opportunity for even more Dei angst. She was a bitch and a half.)

I told you it was something completely different, didn't I?