Only a Horizon

Alone in a crowd again. At least Clarice was used to it. She wasn’t like Garnet, or even Leona, who seemed to crave social interaction as other Sims craved food and sleep. She could well handle being by herself, especially for an activity like listening to music.

It would have been nice if Freddy had been able to make it — but he wasn’t, and Clarice would not pry or act disappointed. If it had been her grandmother who had just passed on, Clarice would not have wanted to spend an afternoon doing something frivolous. Freddy would have respected that wish, so Clarice would respect Freddy’s.

Sorrow Shared

“Dannie?” Rob called into the echoing house. “Dannie, I’m home!”

No answer.

After the Funeral

It was that time. The time when the burial was over and everyone still stood around, speaking in hushed voices, murmuring useless platitudes about mourning and grief and giving their useless sympathy. Joshua could not remember well this time from the last funeral he had attended — Isabel’s — and for that he was grateful. It was not, after all, sympathy that most people had to give: it was pity. He knew he had been pitiful in those first few days and weeks after Isabel’s death. But he was not sure how well he would have handled pity.

But now … now it had been a long day for Darius, and this was only the second funeral he had attended. The other children were occupied with each other or with their cousins. Nobody would mind if he took Darius to the side, out of everybody’s way.

They had a visit to make.

Good Night, and Joy Be with You All

“Granny!” George burst through the door, his broom tossed clattering to the porch. “Granny! I –”

He stopped. It was not as if she could know that he had the Elixir of Life with him. George made a point of never mentioning his planned enterprises ahead of time, both for his pride’s sake and to avoid being yelled at ahead of time. But he needed to see her regardless.

“Granny?” he called again. “Mum? Where are you?”

Damascus to Aleppo in a Night

What George was about to do was incredibly dangerous, probably stupid, and had a slight chance of proving to be fatal. It could also save his Granny’s life.

It was the first three characteristics of his quest that made him excited — not merely desperate — but George figured Granny would forgive him if all went well. And if it didn’t, well, she’d never know about the attempt in the first place.

He rubbed his hands together and listened closely. Nothing, not even the squeaking of mice in the school walls, though apparently the spectral cats tended to do as well or better with mice than regular cats. Wherever the Professors Emrys were, it wasn’t here.

All to the good.

Two Things in Life for which We are Never Truly Prepared

A shawl tied around her hips. One arm trying to modestly cover up her breasts, which, strictly speaking, did not appear to have anything to cover. It was official: this was the ugliest statue Will had ever seen, and he had no idea why his father had put it in the card room.

Or maybe his mother had put it into the card room so that she wouldn’t have to look at it every day. But why would she purchase anything so hideous? Maybe it had been a gift?

Whatever the statue’s origin, Will had come to a decision: when he inherited the castle (may the day be long in coming), that statue was going to be the first thing to go.

Or maybe not. He had been living here for over a year, and he had never bothered to look closely at the statue before now. It was only tonight that he had spent any time looking at it. Maybe he could go back to ignoring it tomorrow.

Tomorrow …

Tomorrow was shaping up to be either the best day or the worst day of his life.

Fear No More the Heat o’ th’ Sun

Helplessness. It was the feeling Bianca loathed above all others, the one she always sought to avoid. She remembered when she was fourteen, crowded into her father’s bedroom with her sisters and her mothers, shivering on a stool and watching her father’s fever-tossed exit from the world. Able to do nothing. Just — waiting. She couldn’t even think ahead to the problems they would face when her father was past his suffering, because to do that would mean giving up the hope that he would miraculously recover and fix everything.

It was happening again. And this time, she wasn’t even in the room. She was down below, while the doctor completed the examination and she tried to entertain — entertain! — Pamela and Cressida.

Then again, considering who it was upstairs being tended to, they had every right to be here that she did. She just wished she didn’t feel like a hostess now, and that she could be only a worried daughter.

To Build a Bridge

“And I trust your studies are going well, dear?” asked the Queen.

“V-very well,” Garnet replied — no, not merely replied, stammered. She was stammering! She never stammered!

Garnet did not quite dare to glance into the Queen’s tired, worn face. She had to keep looking forward. But if she had, she would have seen how the Queen’s brows knit in concern, how her head cocked to one side, listening for an elaboration that never came. She might have seen the Queen’s hand lifted from her skirts, only to fall again. She might have even noticed the sigh.

Face to Face and Heart to Heart

“I have to say, I like what you’ve done with the place,” Garnet remarked, surveying the library with the critical eye of a noblewoman born and bred.

“Thank you,” replied Morgan. Her tongue seemed stuck on further words. Garnet was the first houseguest she’d had since the redecoration. She really should have invited Alison over first: Alison seemed to understand some fundamental things about being a woman and taking pride in her home that Morgan had never quite gotten. Oh, Morgan understood about being proud of her home and trying to make it a happy and comfortable place, but she had never learned how to talk it up. Unfortunately, talking it up seemed to be exactly what Garnet wished for her to do.

Unfavorite

Garnet had a lot of nerve.

Mordred crossed his arms and watched her. Yes, indeed, she had a lot of nerve. The King had requested a meeting with her that necessitated a return to Albion from Camford — well and good. She had asked Mordred to allow her to stay with him, and of course he had allowed it. He was not an idiot, after all, nor was he unfeeling, and the fact that Garnet had asked instead of assuming indicated that she knew how she had transgressed. Here, Mordred thought, was one bridge that he could begin to mend.