You can tune a piano, but you can't tuna fish... isn't that the joke? So's tuning a piano. A cruel, sick, and twisted joke. But Kelly's a man of true humor, and a man of dedication. The blonder, shorter version of Davydd is alternating between hitting a B-note and then turning a crank inside the innards of the grand piano.
     Closer, closer...
     Fuck, lost it again...
     The expletives aren't audible but they are nevertheless expressed -- in the screwing up of his nose, the frown, the sigh, the setting of the jaw and going back in.
     Fucking piano. I'm the boss around here. Me, human. You, instrument.
     B-flat... B-flat... B-sharp...
     "Fucking thing's worse than a harp," Kelly grunts...
     B-sharp... B-less sharp...B-almost true...
     Be fucking in tune you lousy...
     B...B...B...
     "Ha! Take that!" he says to the inanimate object. And moves to the next note down the line. C...sharp... C... very sharp...

     Entering the room, as though on cue from the word 'harp', Gwen appears in the doorway with her arms crossed and a smirk upon her lips.
     "Ah, but a harp is so much more delicate, and so it behaves more to the tuning... for if it does not, it will break. A piano, on the other hand," she offers, "is the heftier of the two, so it will put up a fight." The smirk is echoed in her stance, her mouth, the sparkle in her deep green eyes, and even the tone of her voice. "Have you been at that for long? Because maybe you just need a break," Gwendolyn suggests.
     So much like her father, she is. Her coppery locks have been pulled back into a long, thick braid down her back, but the curls have already started to escape their bonds, forming a ruddy-hued 'halo' of frizz about her face, framing it. Long, delicate fingers tuck some of this back behind an ear as she says, "Long time no see..."

     Upstairs, there was an argument going on in the mirror for a bit. "No. Um... no, don't think so. Oh, god, no." Hot pink lipstick is very nearly chucked across the room; she refrains with difficulty. "Fire engine red? The hell? Dot must've left it - oh, god, ew, there's hair stuck in it!"
     This time, she hurries over to the window, flinging it open, and a red lipstick goes sailing out into the stormy night. The window is then slammed shut with vigor, and a much calmer Fiona reseats herself to do her toilette.
     After all, one can't meet the 'in-laws', even if not legal ones, without war paint, right?
     Eyes blue, eyeshadow crystalline and almost sheer, barely there at all; eyelashes just faintly tinged with russet, lips painted with sealant and nothing but their natural colour. Laugh if you will, but it makes her feel better... Then she can finally go down to 'meet the family'.
     Down the stairs, a head poked into one room, then another - no, no Davydd here, no redheads, either, they must have all moved. "I'm not going to have to leave Wales to find them, am I?", Fiona mutters to herself. "If he's gone off to the Gory or something and left me here, I'm going to - I'm going to - I don't know what I'll do, but it shan't be very pleasant, and I'll make damned sure he doesn't enjoy it." Promises, promises?
     The sound of instruments being tuned gets her attention, though, an alertness sharpening her gaze and directing her footsteps. She peers around the edge of the doorway, not immediately sure of herself. "Sorry - should I come back when the pain and violence are over with?"

     When his face lights up, he's the Spitting Image. The apple that didn't fall far from the tree. The chip off the old Welsh block. "Hey," Kelly says, grinning as he looks up from the persistently out of tune C. "Normally, he tunes it once a week, but ... it's been a busy," and distracting, "...couple of weeks...." Oh, and then he catches the secondary meaning, smirking. "Are you saying I'm stubborn?" he mildly accuses his sister...
     Another voice in the doorway, and Kelly looks over, face lighting up again. "Hey to you, Fiona... ah, no...no... come on in. I think I'm about to raise the white flag for a bit. My sister here," a nod of his head to Gwendolyn, also near the doorway -- Fiona's closer to her than he is, "... seems to think that I need a break. And I think may be insinuating that me and this stubborn instrument deserve one another..."
     The hammer and crank are put aside and Kelly heads to meet the women folk halfway, arms folding against his chest as he does so. "The bloody thing's going to drive me to drink... or to homicide," he smirks.

     Smirk slanting, Gwendolyn uncurls her fingers resting over an elbow, holding them up like a raised hand, then lets them fall again, still keeping her arms over her chest. "Now, now... there's no need to get grumpy over simple facts..." she teases him, looking ready to run in case he decides to throw something at her.
     Looking over her shoulder to Fiona, she adds with a chuckle, "Don't mind him... he doesn't like to be reminded that he's the stubborn one..." There's a wink that accompanies that. Truth be known, stubborn runs in the family and has been known to hit her particularly hard, just as much as her brother here. But, she hides it better.
     "Oh, please do come in... Maybe if the two of us stand here laughing at him for a bit will make him finally give up on it. Then he can be sociable," she adds to Fiona, smirking. This is said even though Kelly is wandering over.

     "After everything I've put your brother through, I'm not at all surprised he's stubborn - he'd need it to counteract things like that," Fiona remarks, stepping into the room the rest of the way and offering a slanting smile in Kelly's direction. "But do come and be social, won't you? After all, if I've got to..."
     There's still the awkwardness, a bit below the skin; dealing with Kelly, well, at least she knew him before she knew he was Davydd's son. Still, it's odd, and there's no getting around it.
     "So what's going on?", Fiona asks curiously, glancing to the piano. "Did it slip out of tune again? Davydd was playing on it just the other night, too. Where is the Old Man, anyway? I'll have to smack him around later for neglecting his family so cruelly."

     You mean he's not in bed? Kelly gawks a bit, a bit surprised that Fiona, who's been wearing Davydd as an attachment for days and days at this point, has no idea where he is. And Davydd himself didn't tell her. "No, not at all actually, I figured he was upstairs with you..." He clears his throat, "...I mean.. you know... that the two of you just hadn't..." now he's pink. "... well, you know what I mean," he goes on. The hole just keeps getting bigger and bigger, doesn't it...
     "I didn't mean it like that," Kelly mutters, "...anyway, no... haven't clue one where he is. Maybe he's on the other side of the palace visiting the Morgans. Sabrina'rs in from America. He hasn't seen her in a while..." he offers.
     But that's just a guess...
     Looking to Gwendolyn, Kelly cocks up his eyebrows. You know anything? "Yeah, the piano's a bit sour, just on a few notes. Not the entire range... I think it's the weather." It can do that, you know. Kelly turns, heading back for the seating. "And I'm not stubborn," Kelly protests with a smirk to Gwendolyn. "I just know what I want..."
     "And right now I want that C to be C-natural, not C-sharp..."

     If she knows what's going on, she doesn't let on, merely giving her brother a shrug. Yes, she has the Sight, but she doesn't always use it -- and when she does, she often keeps her own counsel on such things. Instead, she busies herself with being amused at the rapidly-going-pink Kelly.
     "Well now, look at what ye've done, Kelly," she murmurs, smirking even more at him. "Would you like me t'get you a shovel? Perhaps a back-hoe at the rate yer goin'...?" she offers helpfully, trying hard not to burst into peals of laughter.
     Tossing a look over to Fiona, she says, "Dinnae mind him. A little foot-in-mouth disease isn't catchin' at least..." Brushing past her brother with a chuckle, she wanders over to the piano and strikes the C key for a moment, listening with a wince. Glancing back over at him, she says, "Well now, that is a problem. Shall I have a look at it?" The offer is sincere, all joking aside.

     Rapidly turning as red as any strawberry, Fiona responds tartly, "You know, even dogs do unswell after a bit in order to not be chained together at the - uh, genitals." Oh, god... she can't believe she just said that. It's a physical impossibility to blush any harder than she is now, but she's trying; she closes her eyes, and the blush is there on her eyelids, just about, under the fine dusting of silica. "Um. Anyway, if you don't know where he is, I'm sure I'll survive - I was ... just curious."
     Was Gwen saying something about foot-in-mouth disease not being catching? Fiona looks at the piano, concentrating on it very hard. "I'm no good at tuning things, or I'd offer to help. Is there anything I can do instead, though?" Such as keep her mouth shut?
     She brushes her hair back from her shoulders where it hangs loose, save for the delicate combs holding it from her face, then paces over to the other end of the room. "I could at least go get drinks," she announces wryly. "I'm fairly safe at that."

     Kelly blinks, goes momentarily red, and then laughs. "Holy shite, girl, and I thought I was the worse one in the house... welcome to the family..." There's enough foot in mouth and embarrassment to go around.
     "Speaking of dogs," Kelly ap Davydd says, expression still full of mirth, as much at himself as at anything, "...yes there is something you can do..." sounds ominous with a segue like that. "You can have a drink. Vodka, right? Vanil?" Once a bartender, always a bartender. "Hair of the dog that bit ya..."
     There's a selection of bottles that have accumulated nearby, as bottles tend to do with Davydd and Kelly, only this time they're full. "So... you enjoying chez Llywelyn?" he says to Fiona. "And you've met, I take it," glancing between the two women. Hell of an introduction if not...
     Kelly's pouring two glasses. If Fiona doesn't want one, he'll double fist it. "Gwennie... you want a touch of it?"

     It's a good thing that Gwen wasn't drinking anything at the moment Fiona opened her mouth, or it would have been all over the piano, for certain. Explosive, yet hearty laughter bursts forth from the harpist... so hard and sudden that she nearly doubles over with it. She laughs and laughs, grasping at her stomach because of the stitches the mirth causes in her sides.
     Finally, nearly crying from the effort it takes to stop herself laughing -- which is very nearly unsuccessful as she begins to giggle from the effort -- Gwen looks at Kelly as he welcomes Fiona to the family. "Kelly, just when you think you're on the top of it all, there's gonna be someone who'll top you... remember that. Well done, Fiona.. I don't think I've seen him go that red in years. The colour suits him," she manages to gasp out, plunking herself down on the piano's stool to catch her breath. "Yes, yes, Kelly... I may be clairvoyant," has father told you, Fiona? "but I don't pick people's names out of the air, silly... of course we've met." There's a pause as she finally manages to catch her breath and wipe the tears from her eyes. "Aye... after that... I'll take whiskey, straight up. I need it I think," she comments, shaking her head.

     "Uh, yes. Vanil will do me just fine." Taking a deep breath, Fiona grins sheepishly, reaching for the glass. "...Sorry about that. I did spend a number of years in the punk scene, and ... well, sometimes my mouth gets away from me." Only sometimes?
     Vodka, sweet vodka - maybe you'll help her keep her mouth closed. ...Right, sure. Bridges for sale, anyone? "We've met," Fiona agrees, still pink. "Davydd introduced us in brief when we got inside from the rain, and we had a spot of tea together. And I suppose you could say I'm enjoying it - I've more or less moved in, and I'm feeling a bit funny about it."
     She grins sheepishly at Gwen, moving to seat herself off to one side; the grin freezes for a moment, a slight quirk of a frown forming. Wait, back up, hang on a moment - clairvoyant?

     "Bah, it should feel like a home and be a home," Kelly rumbles warmly. "It's clear he's arse over tip for you anyway," he glances to them both as he pours. Two glasses of Stolichnaya Vanil and one Irish whiskey. "Ah, and I have fond memories of the pink-haired punk girl," Kelly grins. "She came in one night," he regales his sister with the story of it, "... calling out 'Bring me the head of Davydd Llywelyn'...the waitresses all but cheered her on, you know how he was, anyway," skipping over that bit, foot nearly in it again and shovel nearly in hand, "... she goes straight up to da and takes a swing at him! There I was, behind the bar -- about to take bets..."
     Clairvoyant. He sees Fiona halt at that, and figures it's a good time to give the lass her drink. "Here you go," and then his half-sister, "Gwen..." Taking up his own glass, Kelly pulls up a chair. "Each of us... are gifted with certain abilities... passed down from our father and sometimes our mothers, depending..."

     "Pft, don't worry about it, Fiona. That was funny," Gwen admits with a grin. "Plus, you made Kelly go red, so it was even funnier." She sticks her tongue out at her brother.
     Ah, but now he is telling a story and it's one of the past between Fiona and Davydd, so she settles down now to hear it. At the part about taking a swing at Davydd, her green eyes practically bug out as she cackles. "You did not, Fiona! Oh my lord, that would have been a sight to see!" This is killing her... the tears of laughter have started again as she just about laughs her ass off. "And you," pointing at the other redhead in the room, "taking bets! Oy, what a riot..." Wiping a hand across her eyes again, she forces herself to calm down as she realizes the conversation's moving on a bit.
     Nodding, she glances back at Fiona and replies, "I would have thought da had told you... but then again, he likes to leave surprises for people, so I suppose not. But yes, my 'gift' from my lineage is what I call the Sight. I can, well, see things. It's how I knew to have towels and Marti getting the kettles on at that very moment when the two of you came rushin' in with 'half of the Irish Sea' in your shoes, as he put it..." She taps her forefinger to her temple, saying, "I didn't look out the window... couldnae seen out of it anyhow for all the rain."

     "Well, I did," Fiona admits, sipping at her vodka. Oh, sweet nectar... "I was trying to break his nose - I thought he'd done something which in sober fact he hadn't. Spontaneously appearing tattoos, my mother'd have had a fit, she's not keen on tattoos. Davydd's going to have to keep his shirt on around her." Literally.
     As she listens to first one, then the other, Fiona nods slowly. "Okay, well, fair enough. Most days of the week I don't know if I'm coming or going anyway - I, well, it's been a bit weird," she admits. "I suppose that's not any odder than some of the stuff which's happened around me - at least it sounds as if you've got a handle on it."
     Of course, it begs a question - and Kelly gets a curious, inquisitive look from the girl as she takes another swallow of vodka. "So do you have anything, or just being an incredibly old highwayman who runs a pub? If you don't mind me asking."

     "Uncanny musical proficiency, dashing good looks, and the ability to take the shape of any object, animate or inanimate, real or legendary," he rattles off like reading a resume. "My mother ... a Llywelyn," so they're not only half-brother and sister but likely cousins as well, "...had the sight as well. I didn't get that. Sight runs along the Llywelyn line for sommat..."
     Kelly sips at the vodka and licks his fingertips free of the sticky traces. "Each one of us gets a bit of magic from him. Most of us have artistic bents... inspiration seems to run a bit thick. We're all muse-touched."
     Kelly grins, "Mostly I'm just an incredibly old highwayman... dashing highwayman... who owns a pub... who plays guitar and fiddle and anything with strings..."

     Grinning, Gwen admits, "That is something I would have loved to see... a punk girl trying to hit da... and watching how da dealt with it." Taking a gulp of her whiskey, closing her eyes to the burn momentarily, she rasps out, "I can only imagine you taking a swing and da being tempted to just hold you away from him with his palm upon your forehead... but that is just my mind making light of the situation, of course. What happened?"
     As for the 'abilities', she comments, "Well, Fiona... you seem to be taking to everything fairly well. I'll give you credit... not much seems to phase you. Or if it does, you hide it well, which is just as good." Winking, she raises her glass to Fiona and takes another swig.
     Nodding in her brother's direction, she adds, "Shapeshifting is nothing to shake a stick at... sometimes I wish I had that and not the Sight. But we all play the cards we've been dealt, certainly." Pause. "Oh, and yeah, you're an okay guitar and fiddle player..." Just okay. More teasing.

     "He dealt with it by throwing me over his shoulder and making me behave," Fiona mutters, flushing slightly at the memory. "I was furious beyond reason, he was ... surprised, mostly. Well, okay, he had a right to be surprised. I was ... different then."
     She's softened in some ways. Sharpened in others. At the moment, she's relatively unfazed, it's true...
     Fiona nods from one to the other slowly, then shakes her head. "I don't see things, usually. I don't do things - but then, as far as I know, I'm not related to all of you. Dating Davydd, or whatever it is we're doing, that's not the same as being related." One corner of her mouth tugs upwards and inwards, one shoulder lifting. "And he's a fine player, actually - I'll sing with him any time!"

     "I knew he was a goner then," Kelly says gently, with a grin. "That's his kind of woman. One not afraid to stand up to him, even give him a sock in the gut when he needs it. Mostly just someone with a fiery disposition. I could tell then and there. Didn't need the Sight for something like that..."
     Least surprised in this room, however, is not Kelly. Not likely...
     Kelly sips the vodka again, grinning, "I remember that. Fun night. And the night you both were supposed to come back and sing. I think that's the first time I heard you sing,"... not you then, or you but not. It was Isabel that night. "She's a great voice," he notes to Gwendolyn. "A good addition to the family."
     Dating? That makes Kelly chuckle. "Dating? Seems a bit ...well, it's none of my business anyway. Seems a bit more meaningful than that. But maybe that's only because I'm seeing you here and not in London...and thank you, Fiona, for noticing m' talent. My sister here likes to make fun, not sure why, since I'm better than she is..."

     Grinning, Gwen shakes her head and says, "Well, he never could hit a woman... which isn't necessarily a bad thing, don't get me wrong. But yeah, his reaction doesn't surprise me."
     Knocking back the rest of her whiskey, she chuckles, wincing again. "Now don't be like that, Kelly... if you were better than me, you woudnae have any trouble with C on this piano..." she teases him with a laugh so much like Davydd's own. Pianos and harps though, they're apples and oranges, really. She just likes to poke at her brother. If she can't, who can?
     "And aye... 'tis more meaningful than just 'dating'. It's obvious to anyone who sees you that you're more of an 'item' or a 'couple'... the word 'dating' is so... hesitant or...non-committal. It's definitely more than that, girl, rest assured."

     Fiona cocks up one eyebrow at Kelly - knew, did he? "I was rather gone on him already, back then," she admits with a small shrug. "I just didn't realize it - I suppose it was pretty obvious to everybody else that I was, but it took me another year or two to figure it out on my own."
     The vodka is diminishing in small, steady sips - she's not doing a shot of it, but swallowing with alacrity nonetheless. Kelly gets another slightly puzzled look - come back and sing? Well... it's been a couple of years, hasn't it? "Thanks for the compliment, though I need to work on it. I'd like to extend my range downwards a bit - I don't feel I did those first few songs, the last time, as well as I could've."
     A small pause, and Fiona adds wryly, "Well, yes, I suppose it's more than that - I just don't know what to call it. I, uh, I've moved in, you know." All her stuff, plus herself, and thinking of getting a kitten - not to mention the lurking discussion of Children... "It's sort of funny, really. Because, you know, he's not my boyfriend. He's not a boy, and well, we're a lot of things to each other, but we're not ... friends." She glances to Kelly, offering, "Do you want me to take a look? At the piano, I mean."

     There's an exhale of resignation. "Well, if you think you can negotiate with the old thing and get it to behave, have at it. I think I'm going to toss in the towel for the night." He's happy to sit here and drink, to be honest. "Eh, what do labels mean anyway? Those are for folks who follow normal conventions. There's not a soul in this room who's normal..."
     Kelly pours another round for himself and offers the bottle to Fiona, "Care for a refill? Gwennie?" He smirks at his sister. "You'd think we were born just a few years apart. Hard to believe I'm centuries older than she is. And me, with this baby-face."

     "He's your guy, you're his gal... labels aren't important, no. But it's important not to label it as something less than it is, of course," Gwen replies to Kelly's statement. Grinning, she adds, "Hey.. speak for yourself, weirdo. Just kidding.. he's right, though. None of us live 'normal' lives, so why should normal conventions work for us? You know what it is the two of you have, and that's the important thing."
     Holding up a hand to Kelly, she murmurs, "Nah, thanks. I have to give Charles a call soon and I shan't be slurrin' my words or he'll get his knickers in a knot worrying 'bout me." Snorting, though, she adds, "You? Baby-face? What's that make me?" She wrinkles her nose and adds, "Better watch it... or I might start calling you Lil' Old Man or Old Man Jr."

     "I'll be twenty-three, end of October," Fiona answers with a nonchalance which is entirely on the surface. Right. Baby-face. She waves off the offer of more vodka, rising to her feet to go over to examine the piano for a moment, depressing a couple of keys and ... feeling it, eyes narrowed, then half-closed. "So I suppose you could say that it's a May-December romance..."
     Not inappropriate, with Spring and Winter...
     There's only one problem with Fiona trying to concentrate, really. Bad things happen when she tries to concentrate. Pianos are made of wood, aren't they? Well, it doesn't burst into flames, but as she concentrates on the keys, playing and listening with her hair brushing against its side, the varnished surface begins to ripple slightly. "Ah, almost got it," she murmurs, more to herself than to either of the ancients in the room. "Just a little further..."
     A 'little further' seems to result in green budding branches coming out from various points, spreading and arching with unnatural speed. It's almost like watching one of those nature films, except, of course, that it's not usually coming out of a piano, is it? The budded tips open and spread, the scent of apple blossoms rich and fragrant, the pale pink-and-white easily recognizable, the only part of the piano visible that of the keyboard and tray of it.
     Fiona looks up, at long last, a faint sheen of perspiration visible on the glow of her face as she depresses C - true, natural C. "I got it! I - uh." Her face visibly falls, and she takes a step back - really, it's almost more of a teleportation, she's over by the doorway so fast. "I ... think I'd better go find Davydd now. I'll ... see you two later."
     How about never? The young woman turns, fleeing the apple blossomed piano and the two redheads left in the room with it. Well ... this is about as normal as it gets, really.

Posted by rowan at March 29, 2004 02:32 PM