(Untitled)

[somany_names]

The Lord of the Sleeping Marches stroked his chin in thought, brooding on recent events. There was a Corinthian in the Nexus. The nightmare obeyed him for the time being, but he could not guess at its purpose there, nor how long its obedience would stand. Moreover, it was not the Corinthian he had made--some trace of that familiar being lurked

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[somany_names]

To give fair credit, after uncountable ages of service, Lucien has become a logistical genius. It takes him next to no time at all to assemble all the essentials for a karaoke night in the dining room (which has, for the time being, been slightly redecorated toward that end).

There is a stage, with requisite microphone and karaoke machine, clusters of chairs and tables, and a bar to provide refreshments and liquid courage.

It's already starting to draw a crowd.

[somany_names]

There goes the eyebrow again. "I have not decided."

[vicioussweetie]

"Ah. I think you've got some time. You could discuss it with Lucien, perhaps? I suspect he's going to need help deciding too."

[somany_names]

"Is he? Interesting."

[vicioussweetie]

"Well...by 'deciding' I might mean 'convinced to get up on stage and sing instead of trying to hide behind the equipment all night'."

[somany_names]

"That sounds like Lucien." Is he a trifle amused?

[vicioussweetie]

Everybody knows he doesn't have a sense of humor!

"Indeed it does. But at least he likes puppies."

And then there is applause for what might be the worst Michael Jackson impersonation ever.

[somany_names]

"Does he?" Next on stage is Merv Pumpkinhead, who wants to sing "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald." Always a bundle of cheer, that Merv. At least he's got the voice for it.

[vicioussweetie]

It's not the sort of song to get random drunk girls to loudly inform him of their sexual urges, but then, it's unclear he'd know what to do with those kinds of offers anyway. So maybe it's just as well.

Meanwhile, Ali has juice. Yummy juice! "So he said. I think you need one with floppy ears."

[somany_names]

"Do you?" Oooh, he's a cagey one!

[vicioussweetie]

"Mm-hmm. It will take an especially cute one to melt your heart, darling."

[somany_names]

Eyebrow.

[vicioussweetie]

Smile!

[somany_names]

He opts not to take the conversational bait, and returns to the topic of karaoke. "Is there any song you hope to hear this evening?"

[vicioussweetie]

"Whatever moves you, darling. Whatever you feel needs to be said. Er, sung."

[somany_names]

He considers that, watching a few more performances. Some are exceptionally lovely. Others, terrible beyond words. A few even hang in the middle ground.

Dream, oddly enough, settles on a Barry Manilow piece, "I Write the Songs."