Chapter Text
Jebediah Harley is the name on your legal ID and driver's permit. You are always a Harley when you return to this place. To access the Harley Estate, you have to be a part of the Harley family.
You have recently picked up a companion, a teenage girl named Carlah. She is your descendant, with brown skin and black hair and acid green eyes. She fiddles with her long braid as she sits in the car next to you as you drive. Her bangs need to be trimmed.
Carlah had been raised for the last 16 years by a troll named Moorie after her father died of childbirth. You had seen a few pictures of the troll woman before her death, her mutated bronze blood resulting in her eyes shining a bright orange. Her life had been cut off by a sudden accident, leaving you the only one left to care for your "niece"
"I thought I was going to stay with my uncle Jason." Says Carlah, breaking the silence.
"Jason Harley is my father, and he is very old and lives in a care center." You tell her. You had recently shaved off your mustache, an act that managed to wash forty years off your face. In the next few decades, you will grow back your facial hair, and your hair will grey as you slip back into the identity of an old man. But for now you present yourself with fresh youth that still feels strange on your skin. "Your father was my cousin."
"Whatever Uncle Jeb." Her voice has a calculated casualty to it. You know that in the local dialect of her hometown, the honorific of "uncle" is only applied to men of your perceived age as an insult. If she actually respected you she would be calling you "Bro" right now.
You pull into a town general store, the location marked on your map. Carlah follows you inside with her earbuds in.
Going up to the check out, you tap the bell. A red blood troll steps out from the back. She gives you a deadpan stare. You both stare at each other in silence for a few awkward seconds until she raises an eyebrow questioning.
"Oh! Sorry" you chuckles nervously. "Forgive me. I'm here to pick up the keys to the Harley estate. I was told to come here for it…."
"Yeah city hall is fucking useless when it comes to anything involving the northern properties so it gets dumped on me. I'm Alaena, and you are Jebediah Harley I assume?" Alana asks. Her arms folded across her chest in a casual yet assertive posture.
She's a bit shorter than you, but that's hardly a fair comparison as she is still a bit on the tall side, and her figure is sturdy but slender, with wide shoulders and a rectangular shaped body. Her shoulder length hair is somewhere between very loose curls and wavy. She has the same small nubby horns that 90% of those of her blood color possess. Despite the many differences in appearance, you can't help but see a bit of Karkat in her facial structure. You have yet to meet a red blood that didn't have something about them that looked eerily similar to their shared ancestor regardless how much their appearances vary.
You hand her your ID, which Aleana squints at for a few seconds before opening a drawer from behind the counter, pulling out a file of paperwork and a small box, handing it to you.
"That was surprisingly easy."
"Eh, if you're some con artist trying to get into the estate, it's your funeral. Everyone knows the place is cursed. Only the Harley family can live there without getting fucked over." Aleana shrugs. "Disclaimer if you are a con artist and you die it will be great for tourism so please try to die in the most dramatic way possible."
"Oh I plan to have an absolute shindig of a time." You assure her with a laugh.
"Hey Uncle Jeb can you buy this?" Carlah calls out. You turn to see her pointing at a box of ramen. "It's chili shrimp flavored."
Aleana leans over the counter to get a look at Carlah. "Uncle Jeb, huh?" She smirks at you. "They must breed 'em to be pretty polite where you come from."
"Hardly"
Carlah carries a box the size of her torso up to the counter. "We will be buying this, thank you." She grins at you. You pull out your wallet with a barely restrained roll of the eyes.
"You can come down here any time for groceries and other stuff, and also to update me on not being dead." Says Aleana as she places the bills in the cash register. "I can also hold on to packages for you."
"Do you get a lot of customers?" Carlah asks.
"Nah. You two are the first I've seen all day. I was playing video games in the back. Still it's easier for this side of town if I keep this place open, I handle all the bits and bobs that would otherwise get lost in the process."
"I'm sure you're a vital part of your community." You assure her.
"Ha! Someone needs to cuss out city hall when they fuck up. I've ratioed those bitches on Chitter once a month minimum. Keeps the bureaucrats humble."
Carlah shoves the box into the already overflowing back seat before returning to her place in the shotgun. You drive up the forest road leading to the Harley Estate.
The mansion is almost 700 years old now. You built it, designed the layout yourself with Him, and have only added more over the years. Driving up the entrance you see the fountain had finally dried up. You make a mental note to refill it. You are sure it will still work after all this time. It always does.
You unlock the heavy doors, which swing open with a cloud of dusk. Carlah coughs behind you. Stepping inside, the house is dark. You open up some of the nearby curtains, shaking off the dust.
"We will need to find the power hub, and get the place running again. It has self cleaning mechanics and air filtering that will deal with this dust in no time." You tell Carlah. She looks at you skeptically.
The front hall is framed by two large staircases leading to the upper levels. A portrait is hung on display and the first thing anyone sees upon coming inside. An old portrait of yourself with a respectably large gun and one of your many beloved dogs.
"Our ancestor." You say. "The one who first built this place, Jake Harley. Quite the gentlemen don't you think?"
"Eh." Carlah shrugs.
You open a subtly hidden door in the wall paneling beneath the right hand staircase. It reveals another stair, this one leading down. Carlah follows you as you pull out a flashlight, descending into the deep dark.
The central power hub is built from distinctly sburbian tech. Gutted from the inner mechanics of the ancient game many lifetimes ago, it still remains ever preserved and untouched and unaffected by time. Flipping a few switches and pressing a few choice buttons, the place lights up. You hear Carlah gasp quietly behind you. You can't help but smirk, knowing you impressed her. You turn on the ventilation, the electricity, the heat, and the water, among other things.
Returning to the house proper, Carlah grabs your arm. "So where is my block going to be?"
"Well, you'll have to decide that for yourself, now won't you?"
She follows you into a lounge. You'll have to stick up the bar, but don't doubt that the wine is still good. The walls above the couches are covered in blue tinted photos of ballerinas. A hundred and fifty or so years ago you were a manager of a ballet troupe. You simply adore ballet, and adored working with the ladies and gentlemen who danced in your theaters. One of the larger portraits shows you surrounded by the young lady dancers in full costume, many of whom have their arms around you. Oh, those were good times.
A picture in picticular catches your eye. Oh Anastasia, you had the loveliest lavender marriage with that woman. She got three kids out of you before running off with her girlfriend with your entire bank account, five of your favorite taxidermies, twelve guns, six paintings, and all four of your dogs. Out of all the wives you've played house with over the years, she will likely always remain your favorite.
"Look Carlah, it's your great great grandma Ana!" You point to the portrait. "She was a famous ballerina!"
"Okay?"
Teenagers.
Carlah ends up choosing a nice bedroom on the second floor, not far away from the front of the house. It's for the best that the two of you stay mostly in the front of the house. So Carlah doesn't get lost, that is.
You enjoy a nice dinner of shrimp ramen in the small kitchen, and it is far from awful.
◇◇◇
The next day consists mostly of unpacking. Not much needs to be done, it's mostly the stocking of the kitchen and finding a place for Carlah clothes and other possessions that need doing.
A honk sounds from outside as you are placing canned soups into the cupboards. Opening the front door, you look down the steps to see an orange car parked next to your own dark green jeep. Carlah pushes past you, running down to stick her head through the driver's window.
"Hey who are you?" She asks.
"Diederik Strilonde. May I ask who you are?"
"Carlah Harley."
Carlah steps back to let Him step out of the car. He smiles up at you. His white hair is pulled back into a short ponytail. A thin jacket falls off his wide shoulders, showing off his upper arms and tank top. He's wearing tripp pants.
"Do you know Uncle Jeb?"
"Yeah, we are old friends."
"Cool. Where are you from? What's your classpect? What are you doing here? Do you have any kids? You got a job?"
She is instantly enamored by him, far more eager for his attention in the first minute she's known him then she's been towards you in the last month you've been caring for her.
"I'm from the texan isles, I'm a knight of void, I'm here to give my old friend a hand moving into this old house, I don't have any kids but I have a baby sister and brother who are now adults, and I freelance in robotics but demand has been down these last few years so I'm in temporary retirement."
"Cool. I'm a prince of heart."
"Is that so? That's a canon classpect."
"People tend to get their asses twisted over canon classpects but it's not such a big deal. Besides the god of love and war is like, totally cool. Destroyers of souls and all that."
He follows Carlah as she skips up the steps to the door, pushing past you. He smiles at you as he passes, but you just look at him sternly.
"You're gonna be staying here, Deech?" Carlah asks.
"Yeah probably."
"Cool."
He smiles that small smile at you.
◇◇◇
The southern courtyard is a complete mess. The place is overridden with vines, and the trees had long since grown into the bordering walls. He is kneeling down, a tile from the walkway pulled up to reveal plumbing. He cranks a wretch back and forth, toned arms flexing with the effort.
"Is the water running?" He calls out.
Carlah has climbed on top of the fountain, staring down at the faucet at the top. She touches it. "It's a little bit wet." She calls back.
"I'm not sure you should be up there when the water starts." You say from your spot on the fountain's edge.
He pulls the wretch down hard, and water suddenly sprays from the fountain top with force. Confirming your fears, Carlah jerks back, falling off her perch into your arms. She is laughing as she falls. Jumping off you after getting her bearings, she runs towards him with a giggle.
"The fountain is working!" She exclaims.
"I can tell."
"We still need to do some serious overhauling to the garden, most of these plants can survive with minimal maintenance but we should still make sure everything is pruned back every twenty years or so." You say. "More elbow grease and less dangerous malarkey with all the fountains."
He pulls a large pair of clippers from the tool box. "Here kid, think you can open a path there?" He points to one of the smaller paths that had been completely overgrown. "I'm pretty sure there used to be a door behind that."
Carlah grins, grabbing the blades before skipping off with minimal scissor safety.
He finally stands up, placing himself next to you, with that same small smile.
"Why are you here, Dirk?" You ask.
"This is my house too, you know. We built it together."
"But why now ."
"Come on, you aren't the fatherly type. What are you doing with a kid?"
"Carlah's sixteen. She'll be on her own in just a few years. She'll be a hip hoppity out of my hair as soon as she's twenty, maybe sooner, and with a full wallet on my behalf. Not that cash is much of an issue round these parts but it's good to have some walking around money you get?"
He stares at you. The smile is gone.
"...I could have saved Jackson, but I didn't, because I cut myself off from my decendants. He had no one, that branch of the family tree had withered away and now Carlah had no one either. She's the only remaining heir of the Harley estate, and dammit Dirk she's Ana's kid. You remember Ana, she was a real pussycat, that woman. If I leave Carlah hanging I have no doubt in my mind Ana will drag her ghost out of the dream bubbles and beat me senseless."
You get a chuckle out of him with that last line. But the humor was gone as soon as it came.
"You sure it's a good place to bring her here ." He asks.
"It's her home too, and I think it's a good idea to have someone caring for this old house instead of letting it rot every time we leave. Let this house be a real home, not a tomb of our pasts."
"Yeah. I hope you're right."
You also hope you are right.