milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

del,
gilbert blythe

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The door to the White Sands Schoolhouse has once again refused to open to the White Sands School.

Gil should be listening to presentations on Canadian history right now, but Canadian history not being the most exciting history any country's ever had . . . well, let's just say he's not too sorry to find himself in Milliways again.

He is, as always, looking for a certain redhead. But he's in a very good mood, and happy to talk to just about anyone.

Come on over.

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Gil hands her the pitcher.

"Your sister?"

Oh, dear.

"Death. Original goth chick, dontchaknow. Too fond of eyeliner."

The pitcher's a butterfly.

The pitcher's a fire hydrant.

The pitcher's a mango, and she bites into it and smiles at him.

"We're like a bad episode of Springer that's been running since the beginning of stars."

"Your sister is Death?"

"Uh-huh."

What?

No big deal.

Gil closes his eyes, counts to ten, opens them and discovers that he's still here.

It would be very nice if this were a dream. Just not, you know, a Dream.

"Oh."

"I know."

With a smile.

What she knows, well, that's neither here nor there.

"She's the Eldest Sister."

"Well, yes," says Gilbert. "She would be, wouldn't she?"

And though he's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear the answer, he asks, "Are there many more of you? In your family?"

"Seven. And our children. Even points of view can love and be parents," solemnly. "Desinty is Eldest, and when the first soul was made, he read their life story in his book. Then comes Death, because everything has to end. Dream lets you know there's something more, and Destruction comes to give the reality check. Despair and Desire are twins, and sometimes the cruelest, especially when they come together."

"I can see that," he says, "about Desire and Despair."

And he can.

"And you are?"

"I know you can," and for a moment her smile's just kind. "They're bastards sometimes, my siblings. So am I. It's what we do. It's how you make us."

Del looks at the table, and through the table, and then smiles vaguely.

"Me? I'm the youngest. I'm the last. I'm Delirium who was once Delight and knows how to touch the past again, and I'm something else that your race can't take in yet, and so I have my secret name that only I know, too. I'm just Del, and I wrap it all up. On the last day, when it's time to lock up, I'm the one who gives the Eldest Sister the key. I'm just Del. Just. Del."

"Well, I'm very glad to have met you, Del," he says, seriously.

And that's true, too. Still confused, still in waters way too deep for a boy from smalltown Canada 1882, but glad, none the less.

"You shouldn't be." Simply. "Mortals do best when they don't attract too much attention from too many of the Endless."

And then she opens her hand and a frog jumps out.

"I like amphibians. Don't you?"

"Amphibians are well enough, I suppose," he says, looking at the frog.

"I think you should get used to them," solemnly.

Why Del thinks this, no one knows. Possibly not even her.

Besides.

Frogs are cute.

"I'll try to, then," says Gil.

There aren't a lot of amphibians around in Maritime Canada in the winter.

But he'll try.

"Derry likes them," cheerfully. "And so I make them a lot."

Gil decides that it's worth risking that Derry is either a person or something close enough, and opts for "who" over "what." (Or, for that matter, "when" or "where" and above all "why.")

"Who is Derry?"

The answer is really very simple.

...Kinda.

"My daughter."

Gil smiles.

"And she likes frogs?"

"I'm a weird mom," solemnly. "But I think frogs are better for little girls to play with than ex-demon-gods who are now lizards cause they fucked with me too much."

Gil blinks again.

"Well, yes, I would imagine so," he says. "Ex-demon-gods don't sound like safe toys at all."

"They are not made of non-toxic-materials," seriously. "Derry should not gnaw on them. No."

"No. But then, she probably shouldn't gnaw on frogs, either."

It would be awfully bad for the frogs, for one thing.

"Sometimes they taste like butterscotch, when I forget what frogs should taste like. Then it's okay."

"Oh. Well, yes, that's a whole other matter, then, isn't it?"

Gil may never look at frogs the same way again.

"How old is your daughter, Del?"