Behind Blue Lake

The Ingenue

2011-11-09T17:28:00.004-05:00

Author’s Note: This short is written in response to the Simhaven November 2011 Challenge over at El Jay.

March 7, 1997-- Rawling Hills Ladies' Academy; Rawling Hills, Pleasantview

The clock above the door hummed as it ticked. But for that, the room was eerily still. Though Adriana had a purpose and an appointment, she could not have felt more intrusive. Prof. Tricou did not look up from his book as Adriana approached the desk at the rear of the classroom, hyperconscious of the sound of her shoes against the floorboards.

This was the middle of her first term in Prof. Tricou’s Theology course. Her parents had her registered because the topic was essential to the education of a proper young lady and the man teaching it was a family friend. It also did not hurt that the majority of the students were fae girls from prominent families. They had been sent to Pleasantview for the sole purpose of studying under Prof. Kvornan Tricou, a man who was revered by their people as a living, breathing god. In any case, the course provided a liaising opportunity, and if there was one thing that Adriana Fiorello’s mother appreciated, it was liaising.

Knowing Prof. Tricou outside of a school setting, the prospect of sitting in his class had not been so daunting initially. He had always seemed rather meek and aloof to her when they met. Adriana was soon to learn that behind that oak desk, he was a different creature altogether. Maybe it was the result of his monastic upbringing but Kvornan Tricou was a strict, demanding, nearly abusive teacher. How the other girls were keeping up with the course-load, Adriana could not begin to imagine. None of them paid attention to his lectures. Every day, she watched them moon over him like love-struck geese. For Adriana’s part, she would have preferred to be anywhere other than in a classroom with that man but she needed these additional sessions. Unlike the other girls, she did not have a temple education and was lost when Prof. Tricou breezed over concepts that the rest of the class would think rudimentary.

Prof. Tricou laid the book that he was reading aside, atop another book and open upon its belly to mark the page. He then counter-balanced it by perching a third book on the cover. Adriana scowled. He would ruin the spine that way. She was not sure about what reverence she held for her religion or even for the incarnate deity that sat before her but a book-- A book was a sacred object. Prof. Tricou cleared his throat. Adriana curtseyed. She was determined to seem bright and enthusiastic just to prove that he did not scare her.

"Deus eshil mit dyne tad-hymera sita, Mahadeva," she said. At least she spoke his language. That she could do fluently, elegantly--

"You’ll want to leave that open." The professor gestured towards the door. Adriana had momentarily forgotten about the social mores of his culture. It was an impropriety for them to be alone together with the door closed. She scurried to correct her error.

“Ken-urness ir--”

“If I am speaking English, then why am I being addressed in Ashkay?” The professor picked up a pen and held it at both ends like a finger trap. Adriana clasped her hands behind her back.

“My apologies, Maha—professor. And thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Not at all. Please have a seat, Miss Fiorello.” Stay up-beat. Stay jolly. Be casual. Be charming. Adriana took her seat on top of the desk closest to him. She would not quietly fade into the wall just because he said ‘boo’. She was Adriana Fiorello and he did not scare her.

Prof. Tricou looked from her down to the desk that she sat on and furrowed his brow. Then he laughed airily and only once.

“I don’t buy it,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“The act, I don’t buy it. Nauseating little ingenue that you like to appear, I know you and I know your type. You’re too smart to think that you can keep batting your eyelashes at me, and that I’ll say to myself, ‘She is as innocent as a babe and I should not treat her so harshly’.” Adriana blinked at him.

“That isn’t at all what I think.”

“Oh? Then what do you think, Miss Fiorello?” Adriana crossed her legs at the ankle.

“I think that you feel in control only when you’re intimidating.” The words just tumbled forth. Adriana regretted them immediately. Prof. Tricou nodded his head, not in agreement but in a perfunctory, directional way.

“You will need the notebook beneath your posterior if you intend to take notes,” he said. She was sitting on her notebook? Flustered, Adriana pulled the book out from underneath her. The more lady-like thing to do would have been to stand up rather than yanking something from beneath her arse but as the good professor had only just informed her, he did not buy the act. There was a fountain pen strapped to the cover of the book. Adriana untied it. Prof. Tricou did not ask her what had been confusing about his earlier lecture as he usually did. Instead, he plowed right into an explanation as if to tell her just how predictable she truly was.

"There are two basic classifications of daemon. The first is the Primordial Set. These are the daemons that originate from the First Enumeration, the first splintering of the Ren. The daemons that fall into this class include Lexis, who is known as The One Word or The Mouth of God. She is, as you know, the author of our primary holy texts. Chronos, the daemon of time, falls into this classification. Turan, the daemon of love is one. Daemons come to embody a concept by virtue of their actions or their function within the pantheon. Lotan, for example, earned the title ‘He Who Twists’ for his ability to morph a perfect truth into utter garbage. Most basic human concepts are represented by a primordial daemon. And it is from this set that the second set springs. These are the Balthezarian or Messenger Set. Balthezarian daemons have very specific areas of expertise. They are less powerful than the Primordial Set and their domains are thus limited. There is a definite hierarchy amongst these daemons, unlike the Primordials. With the Primordials, the power structure is more nebulous. But amongst the Balthezarians, everyone answers to someone else. For instance, Klutotechnes who is the daemon of engineering would preside over Carrum, the daemon of motoring.” Adriana snorted. Prof. Tricou smiled awkwardly.

“What? You don't believe that there is a daemon of motoring?” Adriana gave him an incredulous look.

“To see my wife behind the wheel is to know the wrath of Carrum.” Adriana sucked her teeth.

“What a thing to say,” she chastised.

“My wife would think that it was funny, were she here. Incidentally, Carrum is a good example of my next point because here we have an invention that was first conceived within the lifetimes of our parents, both mine and yours, but the daemon Carrum predates the automobile possibly by millennia. We do not know about a Balthezarian daemon until it manifests. There are literally billions of Balthezarians that are imperceptible because they have had no impetus to manifest within the mortal world. Carrum first manifested in response to the automobile about thirty years ago at the site of a terrible accident in Belladonna Cove. He is said to be a bat-like creature with eyes like electric lanterns.”

Adriana raised her hand. She knew that they were alone. She knew that it would make her look like the giggling chowderhead that he accused her of pretending to be. But the fact of the matter was that the two of them had entered into a subtle battle of wills and damn it, she was Adriana Fiorello!

“Yes, Miss Fiorello?” He did appear amused. She cursed his amusement.

“Sir, is it true that there is a type of fae that originated between a human and a Balthezarian daemon?” She could not remember where she read that. It was probably a detail from some junk novel.

“Well yes and no. You are thinking of the story of Marietta Henderson, who was born in 1460. She was what is known as a proto-fae-- That is a mortal child of heaven whose own children would typically display the characteristics of a fae. Occasionally a partling might be considered a proto-fae. Or a child of Proximus Deus, also. Marietta's mother was beloved of Bhasmasura, the daemon of ashes. Marietta is thought to have come about from this union. She married a human man. They had one son and that son was effectively fae. His descendants by now are so numerous that there is really only one type of fae and that is a fae of his bloodline.” Adriana raised her hand again. Prof. Tricou shook his head at her but she had the sense that she had permission to speak.

“Could a primordial daemon have children with a human or a fae?” It was a strange question. Prof. Tricou’s facial expression told her so.

“I suppose it is not outside of the realm of possibility but I would hate to meet something like that in a dark alley. I imagine that it would have the potential to be rather formidable. Less than Proximus Deus but much more than a fae. We would need an entirely different term for it than 'proto-fae'. Yes, Miss Fiorello?”

“Is it possible to invoke a daemon manifestation like in novels?” Prof. Tricou seemed to be struggling not to laugh. She would break him if it was that last thing she ever did.

“Ah... No, I don't think so. You would need a spiritual bond with that daemon first of all. Secondly, you would need to have enough mastery over the daemon that it would come when you beckoned it.” The bell sounded in the hallway. Adriana closed her notebook. Study hall was over. “Tonight your reading comes from Davenport, chapters 31-34. Be prepared for a possible examination,” Prof. Tricou said. Adriana groaned. He was so full of unpleasant surprises.

“Unfortunate as it may seem, exams are a necessary condition of studenthood,” he said. Adriana hopped down from the desk.

“Is studenthood a word, sir?”

“Don’t you have some place else to be?” Adriana rolled her eyes and began to walk away. She did not want a reputation for being saucy with this man but she was done trying to be adorable. “Taolen, Miss Fiorello. Your accent is very good, by the way.”

“I think you’re dreadful,” she called over her shoulder.

“I know,” he said. “And you have no idea how in control that makes me feel.” Adriana stopped walking. Blast, he had won.

The Lotharios are back!

2011-11-06T08:42:00.002-05:00

Chapter 93 Preview

2011-11-05T11:50:00.000-04:00

For real this time, y'all.

Chapter 92 Preview (Again)

2011-10-31T07:26:00.001-04:00

Heh, so remember that time I previewed that image of Haven and said that was going to be Chapter 92? Ah, the folly of youth.

Why I Don't Believe in Ghosts by Phillip Pullman

2011-10-29T22:53:00.004-04:00

I ran across this opinion piece in the NYTimes today in defense of fantasy fiction. The writer is the author of the "His Dark Materials" series. Since a lot of you write/enjoy stories with supernatural elements, I thought to pass this one on.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE! :)

The New Caliente Family Preview

2011-10-27T00:10:00.004-04:00

Picspam, y'all.

If you would like a bigger version of the one where Cully and Laurie are hugging, 'tis HERE.

HoodChecker 1.0.2

2011-10-24T20:19:00.002-04:00

Once I figure out how to run this in OS/X I am going to use the OS/X DBL neighborhood as a guinea pig for the "remove invalid references" option. I might be able to save it! That would make my transition to Windows so much less painful.

Laurie's Hair

2011-10-24T12:51:00.002-04:00

Does anyone have any idea where in the ruddy buttfruits I downloaded this?

Lost and Found Wallpapers

2011-10-11T19:43:00.004-04:00

Here are just a few assorted wallpapers that I found while poking through my files. Click on the images to get the full-sized versions.

From Kvornan to Troy

2011-10-10T19:20:00.004-04:00

...in four easy steps.

AND THE PEOPLE AT RADIO SHACK THOUGHT THAT I WAS MAD!

Chapter 91 Preview

2011-10-04T16:56:00.003-04:00

Sneak Peek at the New Elise

2011-10-01T09:41:00.002-04:00

Am I crazy or is Windows farting out higher quality images than my Mac OS??

Chapter 90 Preview (and more)

2011-09-29T16:44:00.004-04:00

First the preview:

And now for some brief site news. If you are using a browser where favicons are enabled, you will notice that the little icons by the site address are no longer the blogger symbol. For BBL, I have instituted this image of Enoch's face:

And for the main blog, there is now this illegible image:

I started to make all sites uniformly Enoch's head but seeing as how he probably already thinks that he is the hero of the story, I passed. :p

But hey, can you believe it? 90 chapters.

EDIT: The favicons are now uniform. I am fickle.

Chapter 89 Preview

2011-09-26T17:28:00.001-04:00

Conversion Impending

2011-09-24T19:54:00.003-04:00

So... *takes the seat across from you* We meet again.

DBL is undergoing some serious changes on the sim front. I am in the process of recreating everyone in Windows. I expect to start using the new game to take my images beginning with Chapter 93. I'm still getting the hang of this whole thing and have not been 100% faithful to the original appearances of my characters, partly because of an impulse towards idealization and partly because of sheer inability.

Chapters 88-90 are photographed with the original, self-cannibalizing game (as is Chapter 92). I am going to take 91 in that game as well.

And now for previews of Jorge and Cully 2.0:

For a limited time only

2011-06-30T10:13:00.001-04:00

I will have no home internet. Noooo! I am thinking that this won't last more than a week. But if I seem MIA, that'll be why.

Also, I started a quotes page on the table of contents site. It is pretty beta now. I will be adding more later and also accepting quote nominations. Thanks, y'all!

Pardon My Dust

2011-06-24T14:13:00.008-04:00

DBL's 3 year anniversary is coming up and I thought that the site could do with a face lift. I cannot figure out what is going on with the titles of the posts. Sometimes they show up as like 11pt roundish font and sometimes they show up at 20pt Georgia. Also, I need to work on the banner image so that it fits and looks less blurry. For the most part though, it is finished. CHECK IT OOT, YE SQUABBIES!**

**"Squabby" is not a word, nor is the plural "squabbies".

EDIT: I think I fixed the issue with the titles, knock on wood. Or "touch wood" for my friends in the UK.

EDITEDIT: The new layout looks mondo weird on my ipad. Not terribly bothered though.
I've started fixing the old chapters too so that there are spaces between paragraphs. You wouldn't believe what the tags look like on those older chapters. I don't know how those posts even... work. Like, there is text information mixed in with the image information for a start, and every instance where italics are used is a NIGHTMARE. I got 8 chapters fixed today. 37 more to go.

Chapter 88 Preview

2011-06-23T19:49:00.001-04:00

The work on Chapter 87 is pretty far along and may be up tonight. :)

Chapter 87 Preview

2011-06-16T19:22:00.001-04:00

Ha! Okay, here's the thing-- When I took these images, I forgot that Laurie's hair is longer now. So let's just say that Laurie got a new haircut, same as the old haircut.

Chapter 86 Preview

2011-06-12T20:24:00.000-04:00

Chapter 85 Preview

2011-06-05T15:58:00.004-04:00

I don't know when 84 will be up. Hopefully today. I am starting to make plans a very unfortunate and time-consuming project-- Remaking everything from scratch, probably with a Windows version of the game. It would seem that my neighborhood is corrupted.

PS That's Ahriman in the pic. His skin is missing.

Chapter 84 Preview

2011-05-30T12:17:00.000-04:00

The Scorpion: A Photoshoot

2011-05-29T10:28:00.001-04:00

These were shot while I was working on the banner. There are only a few because most of them ended up being posing disasters. (grrr)

Family Tree Update In Three Acts

2011-05-25T20:32:00.004-04:00

I.

So TribalPages had been threatening to poke me in the eye for the past three years if I didn't up the security of my tree. It finally got to the point where it refused to let me make any changes to the tree until I put the stupid thing behind a password wall, thereby protecting the identities of 450ish fictional characters. The password is Pleasantview (not case sensitive). If you get to the tree and happen to forget the password, the vague hint printed beneath the password field should jog your memory.

II.

Over the past few days, I have added 40+ names to the family tree, mostly related to the Capp family. I have also changed the colors on the tree (ooo! ahhh!) and updated the text a little. The descriptions were a little Pleasantview-centric and the story is extending its tendrils into other places.

III.

There is now a brief history of the caste system on the family tree. You reads it here.

(Aww, family.)

Contextualizing the Image and Storytelling

2011-05-24T22:34:00.002-04:00

I was watching this old episode of Ways of Seeing and thought that it was relevant to simstorytelling. It deals with a subject that simstorytellers both rely and capitalize on-- The interpretation of an image, when set within a context (the context in our case being prose), becomes narrower than if the image were presented on its own.* Even the tone of an image can be manipulated based on the narrative presented alongside it. The show also talks a little about framing and the movement of the camera. Fun stuff.

*I know this sentence is stylistically abominable but I am too lazy to flesh it out.

Banner Retirement

2011-05-24T22:24:00.003-04:00

Here lies the banner for (*gulp* a whole lot of chapters) Chapters 67 - 82.

My Game Continues To Eat Sims

2011-05-23T07:38:00.002-04:00

...and I give up. I have lost Sita and Hyperion again, as well as the entire cast of Mouse and Shadow AGAIN. I don't know why this keeps happening. The game has even eaten PenelopetheSim, which was a much older sim. I am probably missing other sims as well but I just haven't noticed yet.

Anyway, I say all of this to say that if you are reading a chapter and you happen to notice that a sim looks somewhat different, it is probably because the sim in question is a completely different sim.

Also, I lost Ahriman's skin and I'm not going to look for it.

Chapter 83 Preview

2011-05-16T17:32:00.000-04:00

The Orion Specter Timeline

2011-05-09T12:26:00.004-04:00

I am posting this before the next chapter in order to provide a clear rubric for when Orion was where.

December 8, 2028-- Orion is born in LaPlatta, Strangetown to Olive and Ichabod Specter, just a few months after Ichabod's untimely and unexplained death. Olive is deeply disturbed by Orion's weird eyes and lack of physical resemblance to herself or her husband. She becomes convinced that this cannot possibly be her child despite all evidence to the contrary. (NB: Back then, women were drugged senseless during delivery.) Instead of voicing her concerns, Olive finds a loophole in the system and shoves Orion though it, claiming that he was the product of a sexual assault and thereby placing him up for adoption. She then begins a life-long search for her real child, which turns up nothing.

September 28, 2035-- Orion is adopted by Circe and Loki Beaker. They keep him in their basement where they collect biological samples and perform tests, finding him largely unresponsive to stimuli. Test results continually come up inconclusive though it is determined that he has significant magical energy.

February 21, 2050-- A drooling, semi-comatose Orion is seen by Dr. Mortimer Goth.

April 2, 2050-- Bella is kidnapped, used for spare parts and murdered. Orion is kept alive for further testing.

November 15, 2054-- Orion begins speaking for the first time. The things that he says are muttered to himself and spoken in old Ashkay. Loki Beaker manages to piece only one sentence together from Orion's ramblings: The blood is the life and it carries like the flood. Why he began to awaken on this date is unknown at this current point in the story. ;)

November 17, 2054-- Orion goes apeshit. Kills Circe Beaker. Burns the house down.

November 18, 2054-- Gets locked up at Vajra Penitentiary.

November 27, 2054-- Selket springs him from Vajra.

December 1, 2054-- Arrives in Pleasantview. Hides out in Arbormoor woods. Goes into town infrequently. Lives by wits.

March 31, 2056-- Jack Dalton is conceived.

April 19, 2056-- The RDI finds Orion. Manages to incapacitate him and take him to a Strangetown military holding facility. (More on what this facility is typically used for later.) Orion goes comatose again.

March 12-14, 2062-- Orion comes to. He kills six officers in an escape attempt. He is ultimately subdued and placed under higher security.

December 2, 2074-- Orion comes to again. Escapes unseen after killing Sutekh. Takes Sita for a hike.

Chapter 82 Preview

2011-05-08T22:29:00.002-04:00

I think that 81 will be up tomorrow night but in any case, here is the preview for 82. :)

Chapter 81 Preview

2011-05-01T13:16:00.001-04:00

Chapter 80 Preview

2011-04-27T17:34:00.001-04:00

Chapter 79 Preview

2011-04-25T17:29:00.003-04:00

Okay! So I promised this chapter once before but it really is happening this time. It might take me a little while though. I currently have a first draft going but it is a bit crap and will need some work. The subject matter merits work.

EDIT: The chapter is posted and I forgot to include this image. Oh, motherpunchers!

Chapter 78 Preview

2011-04-24T20:06:00.001-04:00

Chapter 77 Preview

2011-04-17T21:10:00.001-04:00

And now it's time to play, "Let's pretend that Jorge doesn't remember what he was wearing the night Kelly died." *cough*

Graphics Lulz

2011-04-12T17:14:00.003-04:00

Look at the difference between my graphics from Chapter 1 and Chapter 76:

Heh, it doesn't even look like the same sim!

Also, remember the days when I was young and foolish and devil-may-care enough to shoot a chapter on a community lot?

*sings* Meeeemmmoorrriiieeeesss!

Blogger Ate My Prologue!!

2011-04-12T09:36:00.003-04:00

What the ruddy butt monkies??? The entire Jack/London (snickers at "Jack London") section is missing. *sigh* I'll fix it when I get home from work. Sorry to anyone who tried to read the Prologue recently. I have no idea how long it has been that way.

UPDATE: I think I fixed it. Blogger is such a turd.

Chapter 76 Preview

2011-04-11T20:46:00.001-04:00

Banner Retirement

2011-04-07T19:46:00.002-04:00

Here lies the previous Table of Contents banner, featuring Kvornan and Alexei.

I have been thinking about retiring the Elise banner on the main page too but I just like it too much. :p

Chapter 75 Preview

2011-04-06T18:04:00.002-04:00

Okay! And now we start to swerve off into the unfortunate land of image inconsistency. The kitchen in this picture is meant to be Jorge's kitchen at Arbormoor. I did not attempt to recreate the kitchen viewed in previous chapters after I lost the Arbormoor lot but instead decided to use this as an opportunity to build the house that I always wanted Arbormoor to be. The original Arbormoor was cramped and not really a great set or even all that representative of the house that I picture in my mind. I built the original Arbormoor to be playable. Then this story happened.

Now the big image inconsistency will probably come later. I lost a few sims in the wreckage. Amongst them was Sita Tvaud. I have a plan to make her from sight. Let's see how this unfolds.

Chapter 74 will be up tonight at precisely midnight, Eastern Standard Time. Why have I set the chapter to post later? It just seemed like the thing to do at the time.

Six: Taautus's Sympathy Is Overruled

2011-04-05T18:57:00.006-04:00

October 10, 1983 Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville

“Where have you been? You’re reciting the invocation for Magus Shapshu tomorrow evening.” Taautus drummed his fingertips against the underside of the table, watching Kvornan has he took his seat. Kvornan tossed his satchel on the floor.

“I overslept,” he whispered. Taautus rooted through the stack of books in front of him and slid one across the table to his tardy friend. Kvornan scrunched his brow at the object as though it had, by its very existence, offended him. “How did I end up reciting? I’ve never done a Ka service in my life.”

“You drew the short straw,” Agni said without looking up from his lesson.

“I wasn’t even here to draw straws!” Taautus leaned his chair back, snickering at his friend’s predicament.

“Serves you right for showing up late.” Kvornan flicked through the text absently, his cheeks blanching in alarm. Taautus’s laughter became uncontrollable now, knowing that Kvornan had stumbled across just what he would be reciting.

“This is… Absolutely pornographic.” Painted templates flashed by, depicting the Ka and the Ren of Deus Otiosus performing various sexual acts.

“Happy Hieros-Gamos,” Agni giggled. Kvornan shook his head in disbelief.

“The Sheut doesn’t celebrate Heiros-Gamos! There has to be a rule or something.” His tone was beginning to sound somewhat desperate. Taautus wanted to feel sympathetic for Kvornan but his sense of hilarity overruled his sympathy.

“It gets better,” Taautus said, easing his chair back down on all four of its legs. He nudged in closer to Kvornan, gently folding Kvornan's hands in his own as they clutched the edges of the book. “You’re reciting for a room full of ladies. This is the 7:30 Mornington Court service.” Kvornan dropped the book as though it were on fire. The sound of his chair scraping the floor as he backed away echoed throughout the library, causing a few people to stop and stare.

“What’s wrong?” Agni whispered.

“I-I can’t do it,” Kvornan stammered. Taautus snorted, examining his fingernails beneath the glass tabletop.

“It’s only a little temple service. Since when are you such a prude anyway?”

“Agni knows why,” Kvornan said. Taautus narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the pair as Agni lowered his book. Agni’s jaw drooped as though something had just occurred to him.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Kvornan threw up his arms as if to say ‘Now you remember!’ and Taautus, not being in on the exchange, began to fume.

“What is this about? Are you two keeping secrets?” Kvornan and Agni simultaneously shifted in their chairs. The guilt was plain. Kvornan leaned over to side and retrieved the book from the floor.

“It’s nothing, Taau. I like a girl at Morning Court. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Well that was as mysterious as it was illuminating. Kvornan did not spend much time in the company of girls outside of the temple libraries and those girls were so shrouded that a fellow would need a pickaxe and a compass just to find their backsides. How Kvornan would have been introduced to one of those Morning Court slappers was beyond Taautus’s reasoning. And the secrecy still stung. “Why would you tell Agni and not tell me?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Now that really did hurt. Taautus frowned but resolved to say no more on the matter. Then, just as quickly, he unmade his resolution.

“It's not my sister, is it?” Kvornan sighed in exasperation at the question.

“No, it isn’t your sister.”

“Who then?” Kvornan only grunted in response. Agni returned to his book after a few cautious glances at Kvornan. Taautus saw that he would not be granted any further insight. He picked up Kvornan’s book and leafed through it dejectedly. The Ka lay sprawled across the pages, her ripe, watercolor breasts distracting Taautus from the previous conversation. Without prompt, he began to read aloud. “’…and she, being ecstasy infinite, spread her legs to welcome his holy lust, that their issue might be as diverse in their indulgences as they are one in their abstinence. Such is the mortal life of man.’” Taautus closed the book. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this. If the Ka and the Ren ‘sated their thirsts’ for one another in order to begin time and the Ba and the Sheut will do the same to end time, does the Ib make her rounds through the other four during time?”

“That’s blasphemous, Taau and doesn’t make any sense,” Agni scolded. Kvornan only laughed. Taautus shrugged. Life and Soul were lovers. Death and the Corporeal Body were not yet lovers but experienced a holy longing or Tarshna for one another whose consecration would be the apocalypse. Meanwhile, the Heart just stands by while the other four stare lustily over her shoulders at each other. It didn’t seem fair.

"So you'll switch with me, right?" Kvornan's voice pulled Taautus out of his reverie. He snorted, imagining himself reciting sexually charged verse to a room full of little girls.

"Hm. Let me think about this. No." Kvornan sighed heavily through his nose and leaned in towards Taautus.

"Look, I'll level with you. The day I met this girl, I was in a mood. I did and said some things that I deeply regret doing and saying. She already thinks that I'm some sort of a freak. If I were to lead a service about sacred buggery in front of her and her stupid, giggling friends it would make things five times worse. I'm asking you as a chum, Taau-- Please, please take this off my hands." Kvornan's blue eyes glittered with urgency. Taautus rose an eyebrow.

"What exactly did you do to her?" he asked.

"Nevermind that," Kvornan snapped. Taautus laughed dryly.

"She must be something else, this girl. I bet she has the brain of a magus and a body like Agni's Mata." With that, Agni snapped his book shut, startling the other two. He reached under the table and began to pack his satchel.

"Where are you going, Ag?" Kvornan asked.

"Somewhere that I don't have to deal with this goat-fucking dunderhead."

"Don't leave, Ag. I'm sorry. I'll shut-up." It felt strange for Taautus to be apologizing for something that he did everyday, namely teasing Agni about his young, gorgeous mother.

When Agni was out of earshot, Kvornan looked at Taautus wearily and whispered, "She offered me a hand job in the altar room after temple yesterday."

"Who? Your Mornington Court broad?"

"No. Agni's Mata." Taautus blinked once. Then twice.

"Honest?" Kvornan nodded solemnly.

"Damn. Good to be you. Did you do it in the temple or did you go some place else?"

"Well I told her no, obviously!"

"Are you mad? Why not?"

"Because she's emotionally unstable, you fool," Kvornan laughed, tapping Taautus on the head with his book. "Don't tell Agni. He doesn't know. I'm only telling you so that maybe you'll take a hint and lay off him for a while." Taautus filled his cheeks with air and exhaled.

"I'll behave myself," he said.

"Good. Now take this book and start studying. Mahadeva commands you." Kvornan passed Taautus the Heiros-Gamos lecture along the surface of the table with two fingers planted on the edge of the cover.

"Okay. I give in. I'll do it if you tell me what girl you're courting." Kvornan paused, seemingly torn.

"Is that really the only way you'll do this? Couldn't I write your assignments for a week instead?"

"It's this or nothing, 'Deva." Kvornan furrowed his brow.

"I wouldn't risk her embarrassment, Taau."

"How chivalrous of you. Have fun at temple. Tell Magus Shapshu I said hello."

"I'll get you for this, Taautus Chi'en."

"I'm shaking. See you at lunch."

Pleasantview: Now More Incestuous Than Ever

2011-04-05T10:14:00.002-04:00

Whoah! Check out this family tree from GenenSims! MadameMim did a little digging when creating her neighborhood populated by the Pleasantview ancestors and discovered certain familial links that I will update on my own family tree as well. But check it out! Beau is distant cousins with both Laurie and Adelaide. It doesn't impact on the story a whole lot (*sigh of relief*) but it is fascinating to see. The maiden names listed on this tree open up more family tree avenues as well. This is so cool!

Where to Download the Original Maxis Premades

2011-04-04T18:55:00.006-04:00

I am posting this more for my own personal reference than for anyone who is (highly unlikely) reading this. But during my week-long struggle to get my Pleasantview back from the depths of severe (SEVERE) brokenness, I lost most of my templates for the Pre-Made Sims... I won't bore you with the details; I'll just post the links so that I will not go through another two day CC search for this hoo-ha ever again. And many, MANY thanks to whoever uploaded these sims to the web.

Premades at Maxis Taste

Premades at the Bog Sims Institute (!!!)

Pleasantview Ancestors at Genensims

Additional Note to Self:

Henrik, From Whom Alexei Sprang

And yep, this does mean that DBL is coming back. I have been writing like a maniac. No specific ETA though I expect that by Friday the 8th, I should have 74 posted.

And now for Orion and Selket, just because I can:

Two- the centaur

2011-01-01T22:41:00.008-05:00

****************************************************************************

"Ferocactus wislizeni or shamji'itche as it is known to the Fae tribesmen of this area is a compass, a favorable omen and a source of emergency sustenance. Could potentially even be a dowsing rod if we're lucky as they do tend to congregate in areas of standing water." My father dug into the earth with his fingertips, feeling the sand for moisture. When he found none, he dug deeper. "Notice how they all tip in the same direction? Ferocactus always grows towards the south. And see here, the little yellow fruits atop that one? These are edible but a word of caution-- When eaten on an empty stomach they can cause nausea and other digestive unpleasantness that could only dehydrate you further."

A basking chuckwalla unclenched its jaw in our general direction before hot-footing it across the sand. The creature took one brief, cowardly skid into a stone crevice and inflated its pink body like a sheep’s bladder. “Papa! Papa, did you see that?” I grabbed the side of my father’s trousers and tugged.

“See what?”

“The lizard thing!” I hopped as ferociously as a fifty pound girl up to her heels in sand could ever hope to hop, pointing with one hand and tapping my father’s back with the other.

“Have you been listening to me at all, little jengu?” I stood on the tips of my toes, desperate to see as much of the chuckwalla as I could from the beneath the safety of my father’s shadow.

“Yes but you should have seen what it did! First it ran like this—“ Here, I thrashed my arms and legs to mimic the chuckwalla’s gait. “And then it jumped in the rocks! And then it blew up like this!” I extended my arms on either side as though my belly were three times its width and waddled, my cheeks swollen with air. Papa only grinned and shook his head as I teetered through the sand. Turning back to the cacti, he began digging once more. I watched the flurry of his hands with interest until they stopped dead.

“Jira!” I pelted across the sand towards my father. He was pressing his fingertips deep into the trench and water was rushing in from below. “Go fetch Goodwife Ottomas. Tell her that we need cloth and a large bowl to catch the silt. Hurry, now!”

And off I went. My arms stretched high above my head, I was a skimming snake. I would get back to the camp in ten seconds’ time, faster than the fastest snake. As I ran, I composed a song but I don’t remember it now. It was something to do with water, sun and big bowls.

What a funny thing it is to be a child with your whole world contained in a silly song or a frenzied dance. At the summit of a rather imposing dune, I planted my soft-soled mojaris toe-first into the sand thinking that it would make me faster, if a little awkward. Not only was I wrong but my suede soles slid on a concealed rock, causing me to lose my footing. I tumbled sideways down the dune, some ten feet or so.

I remember this moment moving slowly as things tend to do when the blood is quickened. My left hand hit the ground first, followed by the corresponding elbow and shoulder. I was not in much pain or discomfort but that may have been because I was startled. Or maybe it was as my Papa used to say and children truly do bounce. Whatever the case, I soon found myself at the bottom of the dune much quicker than I had originally anticipated and on all fours.

There was an instant of disorientation. In the distance, I could hear a strange clinking sound that I chose to ignore. The ground had stopped moving and my limbs were submerged. I shook my head vigorously to get rid of the accumulated sand. I felt like a snowball. No, I thought. A sandball! This new word was hilarious to my nine-year-old mind and I giggled at my own cleverness. But I was not alone in my amusement.

A meerkat sentry was observing me from about a foot away. It barked in a way that was probably inquisitive or even aggressive but to me at the time, it sounded like laughter. I froze, not wanting to frighten it off. During our brief staring match, an entire group of them began to emerge one by one.

I tried to will them closer to me. No sudden movements. Then in the distance, I noticed a brown dot on the horizon lumbering towards us. Slowly, suspiciously, I pushed myself to my feet.

As the clinking grew louder, I knew it to be the staccato sound of reigns. I squinted at the approaching intruder. It was a wagon drawn by two, sturdy-looking holsteiners.

As it came nearer, I could see two figures seated on the tongue. One was small and very fair. The other, taller and quite dark. A man and a woman, perhaps. A married couple. Then I was struck by a very exciting notion indeed. Maybe there were children inside of that wagon! My father and his water forgotten, I raced down towards our guests.

Storm clouds of the sort that threatened but never fell rolled in. The sky was inked with them. Had I been concerned with signs, I might have known to beware.

The loose sand swallowed my shoes, making it difficult to run. At the bottom of the mound, I landed smack-dab into Goodwife Ottomas who took me by the shoulders and spun me back around.

"Get your Papa." Her voice was low but urgent. The wagon came to a halt. I paused to study it. "You deaf? Go on now, git!" Goodwife Ottomas patted my backside and just as I started back up the dune, my father's figure rose against the skyline, gazing down upon the lesser mortals below. Goodwife Ottomas approached the wagon while my father began his decent and I followed close behind.

The smaller of our two visitors hopped down from the tongue, circling to the other side to aid the taller one. I could see now that they were both men (which was a disappointment-- alas! no children) and that the taller one was positively ancient. Goodwife Ottomas stopped some fifteen feet away, shielding me behind her skirts.

As the young man gripped the old one to keep him steady, I first noted how ghastly the young man was in appearance. His skin and hair were depigmented save the dusky flourish of red in his lips and the vein-blue scars that mapped his face. A soiled rag was tied tight around his eyes. As he brought the old man forward, I noticed that the young man walked with the confidence of a sighted person but with a pronounced limp. My eyes trailed from his colorless hands to the strange dress of the old man and upward, towards the old man's beatific grin.

"Salute the day! Peace be with you ladies and gentleman," the old man shouted. "My name is Hieronymous Rotwang Von Dussell. Time traveller, soothsayer, necromancer and clairvoyant. Former advisor to the now deposed royal family of Alpinloch." By now, the other members of our party were beginning to assemble at the sound of his booming voice. I puzzled over the term time traveller but said nothing as I continued to gawk at the pair. The young man folded his arms over his chest and Von Dussell patted him on the back. "This is my assistant Heath but do not anticipate getting a word out of him-- Mostly deaf and utterly dumb from birth, I'm afraid. Good man for keeping secrets."

"What sorts of secrets?" I looked up at Goodwife Ottomas, whose attitude had shifted from cautious to bored in a matter of moments. Von Dussell's eyes glittered at her question. He licked his upper lip.

"Why the mysteries that tether man to the universe, my dear woman," he said. Goodwife Ottomas snorted in derision. I turned my attention to the Heath creature.

Deaf, dumb, blind-- He must have been the most isolated man in the world and yet his body language made apparent that he was very much there in the moment with the rest of us. He had not heard me speak or move, that was certain enough, but his head tilted slowly until my eyes met the canvas space where his eyes should have been. I was being addressed without words and from that gesture alone, I knew the cunning in him. My father broke away from the crowd to greet Von Dussell.

"Hello Master Von Dussell. Please allow me to be the first to welcome you. My name is Kahlil Muenda and I was a physician in my past life. Where are you headed, if you don't mind my asking?" Von Dussell took my father's hand and shook it.

"As far away from Shintow Gate as providence will carry us! If I never see another pointed ear again then by heaven, I will not have spent my declining years in vain!" My father laughed his baritone laugh and patted the old man on the shoulder.

"Why don't you join us for supper? We've short commons but could seat two more provided you gentlemen have a stomach for coney stew." Papa said.

"Bless you, son but we would not want to burden your women with an old man and a cripple."

"Nonsense. It's Mr. Curious back there that does the cooking." Here, I lost interest in the conversation and turned back to Heath.

To everyone else, he seemed a ghost, a non-presence but I felt my gaze being continually drawn to his war-battered face. I smiled at him though he could not have seen. And I'll be damned if he didn't smirk back, if only just.

ABH and Other Stuff

2010-12-30T12:28:00.003-05:00

Pleasantview is broken again and I have not bothered to fix it. I might fiddle with back-ups later, possibly.

I do want to wrap up Anywhere But Here though. It has been an entire year since I posted the first chapter. The second chapter is almost finished. It is only five chapters long. I should get on that. Preview of the centaur above.

Five

2010-11-21T14:20:00.004-05:00

January 13, 2051 - Auxiliary Rd.; Millhaven, Pleasantview

“Wake-up, ugly!” Alexei’s method of rousing Kvornan was always to first imagine firing a cannon at bowling pins and then to recreate the effect vocally where Kvornan represented the pins and Alec, the cannon. Kvornan’s eyes shot open.

“What is it?” Kvornan pressed the bridge of his nose with the heel of his hand, squinting groggily.

“What is it?” Alexei parroted. “What is it? Why it’s only the first respectable snow of the year! Check it out. It’s sticking and everything.” Alexei perched above Kvornan’s bed wearing a smile that eagerly awaited some form of reciprocal enthusiasm. Kvornan knitted his brow in confusion, turning over and murmuring a phrase in Ashkay that Alexei would later learn translated to ‘your mother's cunt is choked with the seed of dogs’. Alexei grabbed a handful of Kvornan’s blanket and tugged, finding it unnaturally immovable. "What have you done to your bedding, mate?"

"Asshole-proofed it," Kvornan muttered, drawing the sheets around his chin.

"You're no fun." Alexei pondered saddling his roommate and pulling the covers down from that position but he knew that the attempt would be futile. Rejected, Alexei returned to his post at the window.

The powdered world was serene, beautiful even. Hours seemed to pass as Alexei watched the asphalt disappear. Early morning snow reminded him of sand. Sand brought to mind an often revisited memory—Black saltwater waves. Kvornan’s breath suspended in the night air. Shelter beneath a tower of beveled glass. "Remember that time we had to spend the night on Amrita Beach?" Alexei offered.

"You mean three weeks ago?” Alexei’s gaze traced the window frame while his mind skipped backwards through a series of recently filed memories until he reached Amrita.

"Oh right. So it was. Seems like longer though, doesn't it?"

"No." His tone was heavy, flat. They never discussed Amrita Beach, not even as it was happening. From that night on, they were bound by a mutual understanding that was intrinsic to the situation and therefore warranted no discussion. Alexei had seen his friend transform the very ground beneath him from sand to glass in a matter of seconds and now every word, every moment, every glance that passed between them would recall Kvornan’s divinity. Amrita Beach was for Alexei a souvenir in a crystal display case with a caption that read: Death eats at your table. Death shaves his head with your razor. Death watches your television screen. Death never laughs at your jokes.

Antoine questioned whether Alexei knew what he was doing in bringing Kvornan into their lives. The truth, which Alexei admitted freely to himself, was that he did not know but he was already too invested in the other man. Alexei could not have walked away even if Kvornan returned home to Ethelden. Not if, Alexei reminded himself. When. Kvornan twisted in his sheets.

"You want me go so you can get back to sleep?"

"Pointless. I am very much awake now, thank you."

"Oh good!" Alexei beamed at Kvornan, who made an annoyed, guttural sound. He sat up in bed.

"What are we doing today anyway?" Kvornan asked.

"I don't know. Antoine and I thought we might catch a show tonight. You want to go?"

"Sure. I read in the paper that Ursula Paris is singing at Golding's tonight." Alexei rolled his eyes at the announcement.

"Pssh, she ain't kin. You want to hear real Rock and Roll, Big Meggie's playing down at the Swan Dive around seven. Your girl could never hold a note like Meg." Kvornan smirked with his eyes alone.

"Ursula's better looking though,” he said. Alexei shook his head.

"I disagree. She’s got nothing to grab onto. Big Meg's a real woman. But who cares what she looks like? When she starts singing, Yoouuu ain't noth'n but a hound dog! Quit snoop'n 'round my door! everyone in the joint goes mad. Meg could look like a walrus in a frock and still go home with anyone she wanted. Damn. One thing's for sure-- If she ever let me anywhere near her door I'd do a lot more than snoop." Kvornan bit his lip, concealing what Alexei suspected was a chuckle.

"I've never heard you speak this way before," Kvornan said.

"What? About broads?"

"No. Like a Townie. 'She ain't kin’?"

"Oh!" Alexei laughed airily, feeling self-conscious. "No escaping who you are, I suppose." Kvornan kicked aside a bit of the afghan that had tangled its self around his ankle.

"Do you still consider yourself a Townsman?" Alexei began rocking on his heels.

"’Course I do."

"You say that as though it were obvious."

"Isn't it though? We don't live in Millhaven for our health, Vince."

"But surely you're outside of the caste system as a vampire?"

"Legally, yes. Socially, never. I couldn't pretend to be a Res if I wanted to. Townie is more than a caste. It's a state of mind." Silence. Kvornan looked up at nothing in particular.

"I was born a Townsman," he said. Alexei stopped his rocking.

"Really? I believe it, actually. You look like a Townie." Kvornan knitted his brow, more in humor than in confusion.

"What does a Townie look like?" Alexei shrugged.

"I don't know but you have the look."

"So are we going to the Swan Dive tonight?"

"Yeah but don't talk when you're there. The whole illusion of Vincent Randall sort of evaporates the second you open your mouth."

"I'll tell them that I’m a Resident and that I’m there because Emilia and I are lovers."

"Two things wrong with that. One, people will be pissed that you would parade that around and two, Emilia isn't even going. Best to keep quiet. And you can't pretend to be with me, I'll be browsing the buffet. And you can't pretend to be with Antoine because everyone knows that he lost the key to his chastity belt decades ago."

"When you say 'browsing the buffet' do you mean--" Alexei interrupted Kvornan with a wince.

"Just flirting. It was a poor choice of words. I don’t play with my food."

"What if I want to order a drink?"

"Sorry?"

"I'm not allowed to speak."

"You can order but no prolonged conversations. I'm serious. Your accent makes you sound like a professor of religion."

"I was a professor of religion."

"My point exactly. Forget who you were. You're Vince the Townie now."

HAPPY ALMOST BIRTHDAY, VERON!!!

2010-11-10T21:57:00.005-05:00

Happy birthday to a woman who has as many talents as she does nicknames, aliases and indeed, sobriquets. May your day be filled with gluten-free cake that has no sugar, no dairy and no flavor. Not because I want you to have miserable cake but because you seem to still be recovering from Halloween. OKAY! Strike that last. May your day be filled with guacamole and brown rice.

I would have posted this on Sunday but we'll probably both be incommunicado and even if I can reach a computer, I will probably only be capable of typing the words "NICK CAVE IS GOD!!!" and that will never do.

Please accept this offering of Antoine, both as small photos and as wallpaper, linked below.

+Iron Drawers: The Wallpapers+

AlexeiBob VampirePants

2010-11-03T00:52:00.001-04:00

The picture says it all. Or maybe I am the only one neurotic enough to look at those two toons and see them mirroring one another.

Four

2010-11-02T22:14:00.003-04:00

January 12, 2051- 9105 Graycastor Run Rd.; Faulk, Pleasantview

Kvornan did not self-examine very often these days. The panoptic reality of Alexei Garrison left little room for self-examination. But treading backwards across the shag carpet of a donor house with Alexei fast at his toes lead Kvornan as much to an epiphany as to an actual, physical destination. He felt awkward. He felt awkward and try as he might, he could not recall the last time this emotion beat its powdered wings against his ribcage, made his pulse race and his footing precarious. Therein lay the realization: If he was only just this moment rediscovering awkward then how many other simple human emotions had he lost over the years?

As Kvornan's back approached the door to what he suspected would be his room for the night, he imagined the act of taking a donor. The unwritten social contract that must exist for these arrangements was a perfect mystery to him. He imagined fumbling through the act like a teenager reaching third base but upon reflection, that was not what worried him. What worried him was Alexei's babbling, which he had stopped listening to over half a minute ago and worse, the smile that went along with it. When Alexei was teasing, his face lit up like some kind of sugar-coated jack-o-lanturn, spewing gum drops and rainbows from its roughly hewn orifices. Either Alexei was grotesque for all of his sunshine or Kvornan was assigning traits that were not really present. More likely the latter.

"Here we are, nice and cozy!" Alexei reached for the doorknob behind Kvornan's back and leaned his weight forward just close enough to force Kvornan into the room. Kvornan took a few faltering steps backward, oscillating between timidity and indignation.

The room smelled like aerosol spray and cigarettes. A cursory glance over his shoulder revealed furniture that seemed to be outfitted for a teenage girl. For the first time, Kvornan wondered who lived here. Were they human? Vampire? Did their secret smoker daughter hide somewhere in the house while it buzzed with consensual abuse? Out of the corner of his eye, Kvornan saw a figure on the bed that he knew to be female but he refused to look at her properly. It felt indecent to look.

"Now you be gentle with him, Leah. He's as fresh as a newborn lamb," Alexei shouted towards the bed. A dark and somewhat agitated Townie woman tugged on the back of Alexei's shirt in a bid for his attention. He swatted at her without turning and tipped an imaginary hat at Kvornan as he closed the door behind himself. For a moment, Kvornan stared blankly at the peeling paint on the door. As he reached out towards the handle, a voice floated up from the bed.

"You know, you can come over here if you want. I don't bite." Kvornan tried the handle but the knob was loose and the barrel spun, unfastening nothing. "I'm Leah. What's your name?" she pressed. Kvornan let go of the door and turned around, defeated.

The woman on the bed was of indeterminate age, with platinum white hair and fine creases at the edges of her eyes. He used to see this often in his subalterns. Constant feeding prematurely aged the body. Judging by her appearance, he thought that she had three to five more years of life expectancy left at her rate of energy loss.

"Vincent." His murmured name was so feeble that it surprised him. He gestured towards the door. "Glad to meet you but I should get going." Leah tossed her hair over her shoulder in a way that was both subtle and inviting. He could smell her now, masked beneath the more corporeal fragrances of the room. Leah's blood smelled of a temple service to the Ba-- vetiver, balsam, sandalwood, resin. It was a bit disorienting for Kvornan who had not seen the inside of a temple in years.

"Stay." Her voice was soft, almost seductive.

Kvornan stammered for a moment. Meanwhile, Leah looked at him like a child who was expected to recite his lesson. Perhaps she truly believed that he was young. That would be for the best. An older vampire coming out of the woodwork for the first time would arouse suspicion. Who made him? Where did he come from? Where did he feed and from whom? Kvornan could not afford to tell the truth but he was too headstrong to lie. Alexei knew as much.

When they first arrived, Alexei introduced Kvornan as his "first act of biological warfare against the Fae race". No one questioned whether Kvornan was Alexei's spawn or even if Alexei had the right to spawn. Nor did they question the identity of Vincent Randall the 32-year-old halfling from Kent. It was Kvornan's understanding that the Garrisons were in Cade Muenda's confidence. As a result, Alexei's words and actions went unchallenged.

It took a considerable amount of willpower for Kvornan to make it over to the bed beside Leah. Truth be told, he was hungry and he did want her. She began to loosen the laces on her blouse.

"Why do you do this?" He spoke in order to stall the inevitable as much to hear her reponse. She stopped what she was doing.

"Do you mean me specifically or donors in general?" Kvornan ran his thumb along the ridges of his own wrist, hunger needling his veins.

"Both, I guess," he said. Leah leaned back, taking him in.

"Well some donors-- a lot of donors, really-- do it because it makes them feel special. You know?"

"How so?" Leah shrugged at the question, glancing briefly over Kvornan's shoulder.

"We know a side of human nature that all those normals out there with their nine to five jobs and two point three children can scarcely imagine. That makes us better, smarter." Leah paused to pull up a fallen shoulder strap. "Personally, I couldn’t care less about getting to know you or any other vampire. No offense, I just don’t feel like I have to delude myself into thinking that I know what your life is like day to day or even that knowing gives me more insight into the universe. Not that I feel the need to know the universe better. Fuck the universe. What has it ever done for me? I’m a donor because I like to forget. That’s it, pure and simple. Are you going to help me forget, Vincent?"

He locked eyes with her. For a brief and painful moment, he felt like he knew this woman. He studied her face, trying to imagine it before the ravages of her weakened life force but he could not. Her weathered body was as much a part of her as what shattered soul sat enthroned at the heart of it. Leah was ruined. Numb. Just like him. In a more perfect world, he would have the option to forget too. And he would take it.

Kvornan ran his fingers through her heavily starched hair, moving closer to her on the bed. Donation was a filthy, sordid thing but he saw now that it was not so cruel as his initial impression. To walk away, leaving her with her thoughts would have been the cruel thing to do.

Leah grabbed the back of his neck, urging him towards some semblance of life.

Yeah, I've been neglectful too.

2010-10-30T10:43:00.003-04:00

But if Veron, with her crazy happenings in life, can hash out an entire stunning chapter of ATC then I should be able to complete the 80% written, 100% photographed Arpeggio that I have been holding onto for ages. Later today.

Three

2010-09-30T17:44:00.002-04:00

January 08, 2051- 388 Auxiliary Rd.; Millhaven, Pleasantview

Somehow, this was where Alexei had expected to find Kvornan, perched like a monument in the alleyway behind their home. It was well past ten. The rain spewed forth in grubby sheets, beading on Kvornan's face and eyelashes. His drenched tunic clung to chest, one of the few articles of Fae clothing that he still owned. Alexei drew his collar up around his neck, tossing his sopping wet hair away from his face. This was the remarkable thing about life-- Six months ago, he could have never imagined himself in this moment. He took his place next to Kvornan and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Do you know what I like to do on rainy nights like these? I like to sit outside on a flea-infested mattress, watching a dying lamppost. That's what I like to do. It's funny how much you and I have in common," he said. There was no response. Alexei leaned forward, trying to catch Kvornan's attention as he stared straight ahead. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that you're trying to avoid me. But then, that would be presumptuous of me." Kvornan did not move. The problem seemed to be less that he was ignoring Alexei and more that he simply had not registered the presence of another person. His eyes were wide and unfocused, not merely grim but beleaguered. Alexei had the creeping sensation that he was somehow intruding. He patted his palms against his lap. "Sorry," he muttered. When he went to stand, Kvornan's hand shot out to grab his wrist, urging him to sit back down.

"I would never admit this in mixed company but I like listening to you talk." Kvornan's voice was rushed. Alexei reprised his seat, mystified. Kvornan still had not turned to look at him. Alexei glanced off into the street, nearly believing that Kvornan was watching something. From his time spent traveling with Kvornan, he knew that the man could see things that other people could not. A police speed trap behind a billboard. Another vampire in a rest stop bathroom stall. A field of ripe corn just off the highway. Kvornan's hand slid away from Alexei's wrist. They didn't know one another well but Alexei was finding it increasingly difficult to just stand by while Kvornan deteriorated day by day. Alexei screwed his eyes shut against the rain.

"What are you doing out here, mate?"

"Thinking."

"Couldn't you do that inside where it is warm and dry?" Kvornan did not respond. Alexei wondered briefly if he had sunken back into his vegetative state.

"Why did you decide to turn?" Alexei had not been anticipating that question. Or indeed, any question. He smiled feebly.

"Fear. I was dying. Tuberculosis. You have to be in a pretty special place before vampirism seems like a viable lifestyle choice. Looking back though, it was the right decision for me. That would have been a shit time to die. Every morning I wake up and I know that my best days are still ahead of me. I wasn't so sure back then."

"How can you be sure now?" Kvornan turned towards him, his expression wracked with a quiet disbelief. Alexei nudged him playfully with his shoulder.

"Because."

Two Crickets For Van

2010-09-30T05:48:00.002-04:00

And a Donna Bonus:

Chapter 74 Preview

2010-09-29T19:22:00.001-04:00

The Tagging of Blue Lake

2010-09-29T16:12:00.003-04:00

...has begun. On the main page sidebar, you can now sort chapters by character.

AND THE FOLLOW-UP:

The obscene quantity of characters in this story has henceforth relegated my reading list to BBL (which is probably where the reading list should be anyway). If I forgot a blog that I read and cry and laugh and cheer over, please feel free to poke me in the comments here. The other thing about this move is that I actually get more unique visitors to this blog than I do to the main site, so that would probably make this the better place for me to plug yer talentz. :D

Also, the table of contents got a minor facelift. The short stories are now separate pages. Navigation is found under the banner, simmers!

Heh, and just in case you're curious, the character with the most appearances in this story is Kvornan (SURPRISE!) with a total of 19 appearances. Second place is a three-way tie between Elise, Laurie and Troy.

Kvornan Again and Status Update

2010-09-27T21:06:00.006-04:00

Working on Chapter 73 put me in the mood to sketch Kvornan again. And 73 is currently in the works, along with the next Arpeggio. I think that 73 will be done before Arpeggio, even though 73 is considerably longer. Also, I made the set for the next Mouse and Shadow and my computer ated it. This was most disconcerting since the set was on the intense side. I have not opened my game since. And that was like a week ago. ACH!

Edit: I just peeked at the previous Kvornan and this time, he came out with much less of a squared jaw and a pointier nose. Draw'n sims like peoples is hard!

Edit Edit: I find Kvornan #2 to be far closer to my mental image of the character. I think Kvornan #2 is Official Kvornan and shall serve as the template for any future Kvornans.

Do any of you guys watch Breaking Bad?

2010-09-24T18:15:00.003-04:00

I discovered this show over the summer and am absolutely enamored with it. The writing, the acting-- Everything about it is BRILLIANT. Best thing on television since... Ever. If you haven't seen it, go find the pilot somewhere right now and watch. Don't even finish reading this blog post. Penelope is not kidding.

And now for what this has to do with DBL:

There is a character on Breaking Bad called Gustavo who is a gangster, drug lord type. He is extremely smart and successful, soft-spoken, even friendly. He has a persona that is pretty disarming but beneath that, he will waste your whole family if it is to his advantage.

As a cover/money laundering scheme, he runs a chain of fast food places called Los Pollos Hermanos. And it was when I was watching him working behind the counter in one of his restaurants that I realized-- THAT MAN IS ADDISON LONDON! OMFG! I mean, just look at this dude:

And he has a very stoic, Jack-like right hand man as well. It's incredible.

So as we move forward in the story and London is hanging around, as he will tend to do, just picture Gus from Breaking Bad. Because he and London are totally the same guy.

Five: Jennail Is Diagnosed

2010-09-16T21:10:00.005-04:00

September 19, 1983 Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville

"Do you want me to answer truthfully or do you want me to spare your feelings?" Kvornan had a cocky way of holding his posture and the boyish charm of it was starting to wear thin for Jennail. That, and the presumptuous faux chivalry of his ultimatum. Truth or dignity? Jennail was not a delicate flower with feelings that needed to be spared.

"Truthfully. I always want you to answer truthfully." Kvornan leaned forward on the ottoman and clasped his fingers between his knees.

"It isn't that you're inept. Most of your trouble is that you're simply too uptight. You need to loosen up. Mind your breathing." The floor around him was littered with books, all of which Jennail had managed to topple from the shelf above Kvornan's head. This would have been impressive if not for fact that she had been attempting to lift a peach from the tray on the table. Kvornan bent down to pick up a book, keeping his eyes on Jennail. It was a gray and musty thing with tea or coffee stains forming interlocking O's along the cover. Kvornan held the book chest high and released it. It remained suspended in mid-air, spinning on the axis of its spine."You have all the tools necessary for basic stuff like this. You just can't seem to release them. It's like you're magically constipated," he said. Jennail threw her hands up in exasperation at the boy.

"Well thank you for the diagnosis, Doctor Tanner. What would you have said if I'd asked you to spare my feelings?" Kvornan lowered the book to the floor.

"I'd have said that the learning curve is different for everyone and sometimes mastering a skill takes a little extra time." Jennail snorted. He was clever. She would give him that.

"You're a better bullshitter than you aught to be, my lord."

"I disagree. I am exactly as good of a bullshitter as I should to be." This was followed by a silence that was neither awkward nor empty but ruminative. Jennail had some time to think since the previous night when she had trusted him enough to let him alter the very gravity that glued her to the ground. He had known just what to say and do then. Was this the same boy that she had met in the labyrinth? Maybe he was manipulating her. Maybe. But so long as they could both acknowledge what was happening between them, she would not be the one to fold first. Jennail loosened the scarf around her neck and cleared her throat.

"Right. So I prance about all fancy-free, pack up my troubles in an old kit bag or whatever and then I should have enough magic to be able to walk on water. Correct?" she said. Kvornan shook his head.

"Well, no. You can lift a book, certainly. But your resources are limited. Let's just focus on getting this book off the floor before we pitch you into the river. Close your eyes. Find the book." Jennail squinted at the book that Kvornan had dangled a moment before then shut her eyes completely. The study was silent. Even the birds in the thicket at the window had stopped chirping. Jennail attempted to connect to the energy that came from within her and cloaked her body without. In her mind, lights small as pin pricks crawled along the surface of the floor, loosely mapping forms but distinguishing little and illuminating nothing.

Find the book. It was difficult to judge distances, difficult to know the proportions of one thing versus another. Everything gray. Jennail took hold of something. It had a certain weight, a certain thickness. It seemed to be just far enough away. This book might not have been the book but it certainly seemed like a book and that was close enough for Jennail. It was progress. Jennail snaked her energy around the object and heard something metal topple from the table. A candlestick. Jennail opened her eyes.

"You couldn't have been farther off." Kvornan was frowning at her. His disappointment was almost tangible. The candlestick returned to the table as if by its own volition and the candle that had broken with the impact mended.

"Sorry!" Jennail blurted. Kvornan's frown remained fixed.

"How could you not tell the difference between a book and a candle?"

"I don't know! I-"

"Are you even trying?" Jennail fiddled in her lap.

"Of course I'm trying! I thought maybe the flat part on the bottom of the candleholder was a book. I mean, it was flat--"

"The room is full of flat surfaces! Why the candle?"

"I'm sorry." Kvornan stared at her for a time, tapping one closed hand against his knee, seeming to plot his course of action. Jennail bit her lip, genuinely concerned about what might be going through his head. He took to his feet before she could apologize again. He grabbed something from the table without a glance and concealed it in his fist.

"Lift the object in my hand. Don't look at the table! You don't even need to know what I'm holding. Just separate the object from me. Concentrate." He didn't make it easy. Even without trying, Jennail knew that she could not do what he was asking.

"I... Well that's not fair, is it? Your energy is in everything. How am I supposed to tell the difference between you and anything else?" With his free hand, Kvornan pinched the bridge of his nose. Jennail did not mean to frustrate him. It was a valid question.

"Sheut or not, a human hand is still a human hand. If you can't tell the difference between living flesh and inanimate objects then that's end-game. You will never learn this." Jennail hesitated, closing her eyes and re-opening them. The more she contemplated doing as he asked, the less confident she became. Unconsciously, she held her skirt so tight in her lap that her fingernails dug into her palm. She shook her head, dropping her gaze.

"I can't do it. I'm afraid I'll hurt you or something."

"You're not trying."

"It's not worth it."

Kvornan's shoulders dropped. His eyes changed from sympathetic to dangerous with all the abruptness of a switch being thrown in his brain. This was the boy that she had met in the labyrinth. He himself had many turns and no center. A few brief steps placed the Sheut at her feet, on his knees, gently prying open her hands.

"If you want to give up, that's your business but don't waste my time." He placed the concealed object in her hand, folded her fingers around it and stood, walking out of the door. Jennail's cheeks flushed hotly. She wasn't quitting. He just asked too much. And if he didn't know the difference, well... Jennail peeled open her hand, digit by digit. On her palm rested the stone of a peach, inert but alive with potential.

A Quick Recap of The Mouse and The Shadow

2010-09-11T09:49:00.003-04:00

Jennail is a partling who sucks at school and is afraid of being kicked out. Kvornan is the Sheut of Proximus Deus who naturally excels in all of his studies but hates Ethelden Palace and wishes that he could just have a normal life. Girl meets Boy. Boy eats out of Girl's mouth. Girl is grossed out. Girl runs away. Boy and Girl run into each other again later. Boy stalks Girl. Girl gives in, asks to be tutored. Boy seizes opportunity to further stalk Girl. And that is where we left off.

Chapter 73 Preview

2010-09-07T19:12:00.001-04:00

Chapter 72 Preview

2010-09-06T23:08:00.001-04:00

Whoah...

2010-09-06T17:54:00.003-04:00

Heh, yes I am still alive. Will re-commence work on Chapter 71 after I finish typing this. Was shocked that I even remembered my login for Blogger (even if it took a couple of tries). Am less confident that I will remember my Photobucket login but I shall try nonetheless. Game has been dismantled for many moons. Will try to put it back together. Pronouns at the beginnings of sentences? Unnecessary.

EDIT: WOOHOO! I am in Photobucket!

I'm Do'n It

2010-06-20T20:34:00.003-04:00

WeSeWriMo 2010

The sign-up begins in July so this is a link to 2009. But my goal will be 10 chapters on the main story during the month of August. This is obscenely ambitious for me at my normal rate of production.

And now, without further ado, a completely unrelated image:

Two

2010-06-17T23:04:00.003-04:00

January 06, 2051- 388 Auxiliary Rd.; Millhaven, Pleasantview

The sound of children at play slipped into the house through the aging windows. Their laughter colored Kvornan's early morning dreams, igniting long-buried memories. He saw Jennail running through the palace orchards, little more than a girl, flushed and glowing. Her dark hair battered her face as she smiled, all crooked teeth and piercing eyes. He had been so in love with her once. It was easy for him to forget those feelings during the last years of her life but recently the memories were becoming more vivid, more potent.

Kvornan pressed his fingers into his tear ducts. He regretted that Alexei left early for his bakery job. Without Alexei blathering away, Kvornan was left to the mercy his imagination. Eventually, he detangled himself from the comforter and forced his body out of bed, seeking a source of distraction.

The grandfather clock in the corridor chimed the hour as Kvornan descended the staircase. Dinner was roasting in the kitchen, filling the house with the scents of rosemary and citrus. In the parlor, Emilia sat softly humming to herself. Kvornan could not remember when he had last been in a place that was so comforting as this. Perhaps he never had.

The Garrisons were a tightly knit, rather private family and Kvornan was under the impression that Alexei had done something unprecedented in allowing an outsider into their home. Emilia had been instantly welcoming but not in the merry way that a person might normally welcome company. It was more defeatist than that. She seemed to think that Kvornan was an obligation that she couldn't shake. When Alexei first introduced him, Emilia shrugged her shoulders as if to say, What's another one? and instructed them to wash up for dinner.

Antoine made himself scarce. This suited Kvornan well enough since he had long since fallen out of the habit of communicating with people. Alexei, on the other hand, rarely left Kvornan's side. He was a motormouth and could be rather pestilential at times but Kvornan was grateful for him.

At the bottom of the steps, Kvornan placed his hands on his lower back and arched his shoulders, stretching. It had been over a year since he had last slept on a mattress and the Garrisons had insisted that he migrate from the livingroom to the fold-out bed in Alexei's room. In the time that it took for Kvornan to stretch, Emilia stopped humming. Kvornan froze where he stood.

"Why don't you come in for a sec and keep an old lady company? It's dull as tombs around here." Kvornan approached the sitting room slowly, apprehensively. With each step, he wondered how long it had been since he had been alone in a room with a woman. Perhaps years.

Emilia sat on a worn and tattered sofa, surrounded by blankets and shirts, sewing needle in hand. Kvornan paused in the doorway, clutching the wall.

"I don't want to interrupt," he said.

"Interrupt what? I'm just doing the mending. Did Alec go out?" Kvornan took the seat adjacent to Emilia, nearest to the door.

"He did, I think. Early." Emilia clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Boy runs around like a ferret in a minefield. He don't know where he's going but he's headed there fast and sooner or later, the ground's gonna blow up right from under him. You settling in okay?" Kvornan blinked, unsure of how to respond. He had not considered 'settling in'. Being here was only a temporary condition.

"I am. Thank you. I apologize for having been dumped in your lap, so to speak. I know that you and Antoine were not expecting me." Emilia waved dismissively.

"We was surprised is all. Our Alec doesn't normally take to folks. I mean, he takes to everyone soon as he meets 'em but then he goes off 'em just as quick. Must really like you." Kvornan shrugged. Emilia looked back down at her sewing.

"Antoine's just the opposite. He don't take to no one at first but don't think that he's cold, 'cause he ain't. He just needs a little while to get used to you." Emilia bit down on her thread and yanked, severing it from the needle. Kvornan watched her with interest. She was beautiful and reassuringly maternal. Any hesitation that he might have had about holding a conversation with her had dissolved.

"And what about you? What are you like?" he asked. Emilia smiled, her brow lowered in a way that made her look quite cunning.

"Me? I do their mending. Stick around long enough and I'll be doing yours too."

Historical Context for Anywhere But Here

2010-06-14T21:00:00.003-04:00

Before I continue with Anywhere But Here, I want to give a quick overview of the point in history that we are working with, starting with the life of the first King of Simcity.

In the spring of 1481, Seriah Io Laocoön was born on the floor of a fish market to the mistress of a failed poet. Faes (up until this point) were divided into five tribes corresponding with the aspects of Deus Rex that they descended from and mingling was strictly forbidden. Seriah's mother, Zilpah Imine Ishmael, was a member of the Tribe of the Ba and his father, the Tribe of the Ka. This was a big no-no. On the day of his birth, Seriah was brought to the Magister Templi to be ritualistically slaughtered (the prevailing belief being that mixed children were offensive in the eyes of the Destroyer) but the Magister Templi refused. He had a feeling that this baby was special. And thus, Seriah was brought up in the Temple of the Ba.

Seriah grew to be a hauntingly beautiful and highly charismatic child, though also a dreadful scholar. His heart was not in prayers and rituals but in the romantic ideal of being a soldier, fighting against the brutish race of savages (ie humans) to reclaim the land for his people alone. Privately, Seriah had a dream. He wanted to see the five tribes united. One people. One temple. One leader. At the time, it was completely unheard of but Seriah, now 43, would have the chance to pursue his dream.

For decades, the human population was exploding. Faes had always been drastically outnumbered but now they were surrounded. (The Tribe of the Ib was a notable exception-- They were focused in modern day Strangetown where no humans ever ventured.) For the Fae peoples the choice was quickly becoming either to conquer or to assimilate. And assimilation was no option at all. On June 9, 1524, a small battalion composed of Ba tribesmen and lead by Seriah himself assassinated the human magistrate of Helos, Veronaville, bringing the humans of that region to their knees. Thus began what is known as The Rose War.

Over the course of the next ten years, Seriah would be made general of the Four Nation Army, picking away at human provinces in Veronaville, Alpinloch, Alderton (Pleasantview) and Riverblossom Hills. Seriah was crowned King after the Battle of Arbormoor, his subjugation of the humans on the continent having been completed. The reach of his kingdom would extend as far as the Strangetown/Veronaville border (an area known today as Mantua).

During the war, Seriah gained the support of Mahadeva Samael Night, who gifted his daughter Nephtys to Seriah in celebration of the success of his campaign. Seriah fell instantly in love with Nephtys, preferring her even to his consort.

Nephtys's mother was outraged at the idea of her daughter (a daughter of the SHEUT for bean's sake!) being reduced to chattel. She went into a deep meditation and thus approached the Ka of Deus Rex (the Ka being diametrically opposed to the Sheut) to discover a way to get back at her husband for this outrage. The Ka suggested that the best way to seek revenge was to separate Samael from Nephtys (who was the favorite amongst his eight daughters) for eternity by enslaving the girl to the Ka. Irrationally, the mother accepted. The Ka imbued Nephtys with a thirst that only the absorption of a life force could quench. This absorption paused the decay of the body. She would never be united with her father in death. When her mother's dealings were discovered, she was banished.

Seriah loved Nephtys still (and in some ways found himself more fascinated by the girl). She accompanied him into battle, feeding from fallen humans and on one occasion, saving the life of a Fae soldier.

In summary:

-Humanity is having a shitty time.

-Seriah is king of the entire continent, other than Strangetown (which is a wilderness where only the Tribe of the Ib lives).

-Nephtys is the first vampire, chosen and enslaved by the Ka (as all future vampires would too be chosen and enslaved by the Ka).

Mapping Blue Lake

2010-06-11T19:28:00.005-04:00

Welcome to Pleasantview!

State Motto: Ken-Terra ir Ken-Ka (Ashkay: The Land is the Life)

I made a quick map so that you can see the population spread as well as the ~~shameless gerrymandering~~ division of districts. Unfortunately, the map is way too big to fit in the site template so it is liked below. Only main roads are displayed. Lines are drawn with my mouse because I am lazy. Sorry about that one.

District Map

One

2010-05-27T18:39:00.004-04:00

January 03, 2051- 388 Auxiliary Rd.; Millhaven, Pleasantview

Alexei braced his defenses for the coming onslaught. If he were honest with himself, he would note that he had been washing the same dish for the past twenty minutes, running his pruned fingers over the beveled edge and listening for the door. In eighty years he had never made a decision by himself that affected all three of them. And while he knew that he was doing the right thing, he still felt guilty. Very much so. The dish in his hands was getting no cleaner but he continued to rub.

When the door finally opened, he did not turn. To turn would be to acknowledge that he knew what was coming and that he was not quite prepared. Antoine swept into the kitchen, an angry blur of black and beige in the corner of Alexei’s eye.

“Incidentally, what is Kvornan Tricou doing on our couch?” Antoine’s whisper was nearly drowned out by the sound of the sink draining as Alexei pulled the plug.

“Sleeping, last I checked.” Alexei opened the cabinet below the sink and stowed the dish there, forgetting that dishes did not belong beneath the sink.

“You brought him back here?” Alexei dried his hands on his sweater and turned to face his brother. Antoine was seething in a way that he rarely did. Ordinarily, this would be proof positive that Alexei had overstepped a boundary but these were extraordinary circumstances. Today, his brother would just have to forgive him.

“What else was I supposed to do? The faes can’t seem to keep him bunged up in a little fishbowl like they said they would. He’s been running around for years taking victims and not sweeping up his footprints. The way he operates puts us all in danger. As long as no one teaches him any better, he’s just going to keep running around and pulling the same sloppy shit. If he were any other vampire, he would have been compromised ages ago. And I know what you’re going to say but he’s completely harmless, even a bit vegetative most of the time. I don’t know what he’s seen or done or whatever but—“

“He’s homicidal, Alec.” Alexei’s hands, which had been dancing in a complicated series of gestures, fell to his sides. Antoine’s tone had been gentle, bringing to light the fact that he understood Alexei’s reasons both spoken and unspoken. Alexei squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from grimacing.

“Well, we wouldn’t have many allies amongst our kind if we started making those sorts of distinctions,” he said. Antoine frowned.

“Emilia is coming home today.”

“I know it.”

“You want that monster to stay in the same house where your sister sleeps?” Alexei bit his lip and looked to the floor while his stomach clenched. He leaned against the counter, fighting back thoughts that blossomed formlessly, more emotion than reason. His sense of conviction told him that what he had set into motion would not be undone. But the off-chance that he might be putting his family in danger was unsettling in the extreme.

“No one knows for certain what happened that night,” he said softly.

“You said yourself just now that he’s damaged. Something must have happened to make him that way. Do you really want to risk it?”

“He lost his son, Antoine.”

“That was fifty years ago. More than fifty.”

“Emilia still paces the floor at night over Sean after seventy years and she had us to help her get by. He has no one. It is unfair to suggest that he should be over his loss by now and that if he is still suffering then it must be because he killed those people.” Antoine was unmoved. He folded his arms over his chest. “Two weeks,” Alexei said. “That’s all I ask. After that, I’ll release him back into the wild.” Antoine’s eyebrows rose.

“He’s the Sheut, Alec. This isn’t like that orphaned raccoon you thought would make a decent house pet.” Alexei smiled uneasily.

“Maybe not but I was right then, wasn’t I? You liked Bandit. You let her sleep in your shoes.” Antoine pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly having reached the summit of his patience. Alexei stepped forward and placed his hand on Antoine’s shoulder. “He can’t just be allowed to go around hurting people,” Alexei pressed. Antoine lowered his hand and peered straight through his brother. He spoke slowly, placing a hard emphasis on each word.

“I agree with you one hundred percent but wouldn’t this be a project more suited to Cade or Nephtys?” Alexei snorted derisively.

“We stay in Cade’s good graces because we don’t go running to him with every little thing.”

“You call this a little thing?”

“Two weeks. That’s all I need.”

“And if Emilia says no?” Alexei moistened his lips, attempting to hide the smile that threatened to break through. Asking what would happen if Emilia said no was as good as consent.

“Ten simoleons says that she’ll call him her poor little angel within fifteen minutes of meeting him,” Alexei joked. Antoine soured further. “I’ve known him for weeks now. I trust him.”

“It isn’t a matter of trust. He's not a person. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“Whatever he is, he needs help and I want to help him.” Antoine winced painfully, sympathetically. He braced the back of Alexei’s head, pulling him into a hug.

“The only reason why I’m saying yes to this is because I know that you can’t be dissuaded. If he left, you would go with him and I would rather be present to catch you when you fall.” Alexei pulled away.

“It’s going to be fine, Antoine. In fact, it’s going to be more than fine.” Alexei patted Antoine’s cheek playfully. “You may even let him sleep in your shoes before the end."

Arpeggio Preview

2010-05-26T23:16:00.003-04:00

I have been holding on to this story for a while now. Several chapters are completed.

Arpeggio is the story of Kvornan and Alexei from when Kvornan first moved in to the Garrison household to when he left it for good. Look for the story soon.

A Little Electra With Your Complex

2010-05-26T21:40:00.002-04:00

Ahem.

Ok, so this is Jon Smith-Tricou:

And this is Jon Smith-Tricou as a young man:

See where I'm going with this?

This is Jon Smith-Tricou as a young brunette:

And then:

It's the profile shot that really kills me.

You Are Cordially Invited to Bust A Move

2010-05-09T11:39:00.002-04:00

WOOO! PLEASANTVIEW IS BACK!

Next time, we'll keep Cully and Enoch out of the punch.

Chapter 71 Preview

2010-05-08T20:47:00.000-04:00

And yet another newsflash

2010-05-07T09:19:00.007-04:00

Pleasantview is officially dead. It refuses to load. At first I thought that it was a one-off. Then it happened twice and I was still in denial. Then I tried it a third time and well, we have an old saying in Tennessee: Fool me three times, you can't get fooled again.

I do have a back-up that I assume is a working back-up. But until I am brave enough to install it, I am moving the Jack chapter back one more slot. So there is the potential that we are in our very last chapters of DBL and that the story will just end abruptly.

Chapter 70 is to be posted tonight. Chapter 71 should follow shortly (and will be different than previously advertised since I never got to finish shooting that Jack chapter).

UPDATE:

So I was just perusing my Pleasantview neighborhood file and I found something suspicious. I removed said suspicious file and I am going to try to run the neighborhood as usual.

But while I was in there, I found a TON of photos that I had mistakenly taken with the in-game camera. *face palm* Here were some of the highlights:

Click here to see the rest. The guest password is Pleasantview.

UPDATE:

Replacing the neighborhood file was a failure. Going to do a complete re-install.

Change of Plan (And Preview)

2010-05-06T18:30:00.003-04:00

Chapter 71 is now Chapter 70, making Chapter 70, Chapter 71. Here is the new Chapter 70 preview. Catch you on the flip side.

The Plan

2010-04-22T15:08:00.002-04:00

So my next two updates will be Mouse and Shadow followed by Anywhere But Here followed by Chapter 70 of the main story. Werd.

You may be asking yourself why this post includes a picture of Wyn. You will find that there is no logic behind the decision to include a picture of Wyn.

Chapter 69 Outtakes

2010-04-19T21:21:00.003-04:00

I think that this was probably my most successful photo shoot to date so here is a heap'n help'n of outtakes.

Chapter 70 Preview

2010-04-18T20:46:00.004-04:00

Heh. Ok. Here's the thing-- I am not even finished photographing Chapter 70. However, I am finished Chapter 71, completely. It's done, writing and images. Then Chapter 72 is completely shot but not at all written. Eh well. Jack attack.

My Teens Are Covered

2010-04-02T18:12:00.002-04:00

I had been intermittently worrying about what I was going to do for Elise's clothing choices once she reaches Veronaville (although, at my rate of updating, who knows when I'll get that far). And then I came across the necessary cc yesterday, long after I had given up the ghost. A big thank you to Meryt (yes, I'm still lurking in the shadows - I'll be loud and annoying again soon) for sharing her teen head-wrap recolors for they are fantastic. And to Mio0331 over at ModtheSims for this dress mesh. Onward to the pikshurs:

HELLO Ellicott City, MD!

2010-03-29T20:08:00.003-04:00

Ok, so I installed google analytics a while back and I check it rarely. But when I looked at it just now, I noticed some unexpected activity from an unexpected place and I just thought I would take the time to poke a lurker (particularly since I've been to Ellicott City and Main Street is awesome).

This ancient, Maxis-haired test pic of Kvornan and Alexei is dedicated to you, secret Marylander. :p

Chapter 69 Preview

2010-03-28T23:12:00.001-04:00

Later Today...

2010-03-28T10:07:00.003-04:00

EDIT: I just found the image below in a rarely-viewed file of ancient relics. It's Jorge and Cully from a time long before Dragging Blue Lake. D'aw.

Genetic Experiments and Other Silliness

2010-03-25T17:25:00.005-04:00

Don't look at me. Veron made me do it. :p

First up, Kvornan and Alexei as women:

And now for their children (Kvornan was used as the mother to generate these):

Hiatus Continues To Be Indefinite

2010-03-22T13:14:00.003-04:00

While work on the main story and the accompanying short stories continues, I am not sure of when the posting will start again. Thank you as always for bearing with me as life trumps storytelling.

Character Profile: Kvornan Tricou

2010-03-08T09:17:00.003-05:00

Name: Mahadeva Kvornan (Tanner) Tricou

Birth Name: Vincent Randall Evans
Aliases: Vincent Randall; Randall Tanner
Invocation: Lux'xief/Cavafricorith (Bear Unto Me (the) Torch/ Morning Star)
Aspect: Sheut
Throne: Proximus Deus
Element: Fire
Level of Magical Study Obtained: Hierophant
Age: 27 (physical), 104 (actual)
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 142 lbs
Species: vampire
Birthplace: Pleasantview
Caste: varies
Occupation: Artist in Residence- Ethelden Palace
Favorite Color: copper
Favorite Food: anything made of potato
Favorite Music: I have a long history with music but unfortunately, I can't stomach any of my favorites anymore. Rock music in particular. Rhythm and Blues. Certain jazz songs. Certain piano concertos...
Favorite Books: Ken-Brishidi-- That is the Sacred Texts, Lexikos in particular.
Hobbies: painting
Most Prized Possession: I gave it to him.

The Antoine Skin Blues

2010-03-01T22:24:00.003-05:00

I seem to have misplaced Antoine's skin:

He's pretty hot with the default but umm... Yeah. I need his skin back. Either that or I am going to use substitute Antoine who is not so hot:

Here is the original Antoine complete with skin:

Does anyone know what that is? Judging by the nose, it must be an Enayla skin. It isn't Pixie Loveless because that's what New Antoine is sporting...

Or maybe I really should use New Antoine. Old Antoine looks like a model for Emporio Armani. And of the two, New Antoine looks more like Alec. I dunno. Thoughts?

Four: Jennail Throws Decorum To The Wind

2010-02-28T21:57:00.004-05:00

September 18, 1983 Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville

There was a body stretched along the railing of Jennail's balcony, black and spectral. The start that it gave her carried with it a fierce wave of nausea and Jennail swallowed hard against the growing knot in her throat. Her first instinct was to flee down the hall with a half-asleep Maya in tow but then the body moved, bringing its hand to its face and taking a long, slow drag from a freshly lit cigarette. The strange juxtaposition of the cloaked figure and the cigarette shocked Jennail into regaining her presence of mind. Those were the robes of an acolyte. Jennail only knew one acolyte. She threw open the window.

Though he must have noticed the window opening, Kvornan did not give her the dignity of flinching. His statuesque figure was haloed by the light from the courtyard, making him appear all the more uncanny. A shiver ran up Jennail's spine. He was not just a boy. He was the autumn and the void.

A gust of wind blew icy against Jennail's exposed skin and she covered her cleavage with her hand, remembering herself. Kvornan brought the cigarette back to his lips.

“I told you not to visit me!” Jennail hissed, breaking the silence. Kvornan exhaled a great veil of smoke.

“I have trouble taking orders.” His tone was as cool and indifferent as ever. Jennail folded her arms over her chest, willing him to look at her. He did not.

“You asked and I said no!”

Kvornan flicked his ashes into the air and they hovered above him without dropping. Only the round tip of his nose was visible from behind the hood and it was crimson with cold. Jennail wondered how long he had been lying there motionless on her balcony without her noticing. She wished she'd gone on not noticing.

“I missed you,” Kvornan said, still focusing on the sky overhead. Jennail made a clicking sound with her tongue.

“You don’t even know me,” she scoffed. God, but he was exasperating. His ashes disappeared into thin air as Maya's tiny voice floated up from another part of the room, another life, another plain of existence.

“Could you keep it down, Nai? I’m trying to sleep.” Jennail turned to look at her. A self-satisfied smile played across Maya's lips. This was all her doing. If Maya had kept her mouth shut the last time they crossed paths then Jennail would not be in this situation. Kvornan sat up and swung his legs over the railing to face the window.

His hair was pulled back tightly. His eyes were leafed in gold. His cloak billowed just slightly and for an instant, Jennail found herself admiring an etherial beauty in him.

“Come outside and close the window,” Kvornan whispered. Jennail shook her head resolutely.

“Absolutely not. This is so inappropriate I don’t even know where to begin. Are you really smoking in a ladies’ dormitory?”

“I can put it out if you like.”

“No, what I would like is for you to leave. Now.”

“I can’t.”

Kvornan caught her gaze and held it, seemingly determined to prove that he was just as stubborn as she was. Jennail clamped her hands over her eyes in frustration and groaned.

“Why me? I’m plain and socially awkward and magically sterile and dull as tombs. I spend my free time buried in junk novels and all nightgown conversations aside, I am not loose.” She hadn't meant to say that aloud or at the very least, not so bluntly. Kvornan's eyebrows rose just enough to indicate his own surprise. He tossed his cigarette over the edge of the balcony.

“Of course not. I’m sorry if I’ve lead you to believe that I would ever think something like that,” he said softly. Jennail furrowed her brow. That was not what her concern had been, not exactly. There were fifty girls in that very building who were prettier, more charming and sophisticated-- All of which would have sold their own mothers to get a second glance from Kvornan Tanner. Meanwhile, Jennail could not seem to shake him.

“Why me then?”

Kvornan parted his lips to respond but thought better of it. He dropped down from his perch. Jennail gripped the windowsill to keep herself from backing away, causing Kvornan to pause where he was. His eyes darted to the masonry. He ran his fingertips along the concrete parapet. Jennail supposed that he knew just how unsettling his proximity could be.

“You’re like me, I think. From the moment I met you, I just... I don’t belong here. It's stifling and it's rigorous and I think maybe you don’t belong either.” Kvornan tilted his head to the side, trying to meet her fallen gaze. Though he could not have known it, he had touched upon an extraordinarily sensitive point. For years, Jennail had been trying to reassure herself that she fit in, that she belonged, that these were her people. Kvornan might have embraced the idea of being different but Jennail was wounded by the simple truth, particularly when she considered the source. Kvornan was not a catty, red-headed colleague or an exasperated professor. He had not gone looking for weakness in her but he had found it and easily. Jennail bit her lips, praying to keep her eyes from clouding over. The very last thing she needed was to cry in front of the Sheut.

“Come outside and let’s start over. I’m Kvornan. What’s your name?” he said quietly. Jennail rose her head.

“You know full well what my name is,” she sniffed. A smile stretched across Kvornan's face far more brightly than Jennail thought him capable of. She cursed herself for the notion but he really was handsome in way.

“Play along,” he urged her. Jennail sighed.

“I’m Jennail. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mahadeva.”

“Kvornan.”

“There is no chance of me ever calling you that. Ever.”

“Fair enough. And for the record, I don’t think you’re dull.” Jennail snorted, then followed the display by clamping her hand to her mouth, blocking any further amused but unladylike sounds.

“I'm not dull but I am all the rest?” she asked, smirking through her fingers. Kvornan spoke slowly, measuring his words.

“You’re special and you’re rare and I would very much like to get to know you if you’ll let me. Please.”

Jennail dropped her hand. A warm flush spread across her cheeks. Ordinarily, she was self-conscious about blushing, freckled and blotchy as she was but for the moment, she felt at ease. There was something in the way Kvornan was grinning that told her he was more nervous than she had ever been. Jennail drew her confidence from his unease.

“How did you get up here, anyway?” she asked, gazing at the opposite facade. Kvornan scratched his head through the hood.

“I— Well I climbed up the trellis on the other side and glided down from the roof.” Jennail leaned forward over the windowsill, neverminding her neckline or the way that Kvornan's eyes were drawn to it.

“Show me," she demanded. Kvornan laughed.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”

“No, I want to see.” Kvornan stared blankly at her for a time as if considering whether he really should. Then he hopped backwards onto the ledge with the self-assurance of someone who could see just as well behind himself as he could ahead. What happened next frightened Jennail so throughly that she would find herself dreaming about it for the next several nights.

Kvornan propelled himself backwards, pushing off with his arms and springing with his legs. In the brief instant that it happened, Jennail forgot who he was and what he was capable of. She even forgot the wall that separated them, nearly jettisoning her body after his and bruising her stomach in the process.

Kvornan's head disappeared just below the level of the parapet. Jennail's pulse thundered in her chest. She knew that he was fine and that he had landed firmly on his feet but at the same time, she had just witnessed him jumping from a two-story ledge. It was impossible not to be afraid regardless of what her better judgement told her.

"Lord?" Jennail's voice echoed from the walls of the courtyard. The black precipice of his hood rose from the other side of the balcony and soon, his entire body came into view, hovering six or seven feet away.

"Sorry, I didn't catch myself as quickly as I had planned," he laughed, teetering a little as he did so. Jennail gaped. She had never seen nor had she ever imagined that she would see a person levitating that far from the ground.

“How are you doing that?” Her tone was almost accusatory. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. How was he doing that?

“Come outside and give me your hand.” Kvornan extended his arms to her and floated over to the edge of the balcony. Jennail froze. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Should I?” Indeed, his 'not catching himself as quickly as he had planned' did not inspire Jennail with much confidence. Kvornan frowned exaggeratedly and a small laugh escaped from her lips.

“I would never let you fall.” Kvornan leaned against the balustrade.

“I know that, I just--”

“You’re as safe with me as you are on solid ground. I swear.” Jennail exhaled. She wasn't going to win. She hiked her nightgown up over her knees, throwing decorum to the wind. She hopped down from the windowsill and Kvornan helped her over the parapet.

He took her by the hands, clearly hoping to keep their contact as platonic as possible. Jennail responded by throwing herself into his arms. He caught her, supporting her head and back. It was the most unusual feeling. Kvornan was managing to stay fairly stationary. Jennail herself did not quite feel as though she were dangling. It was like they were suspended in invisible netting. She pulled Kvornan into a hug to keep herself from getting vertigo.

“This is incredible,” she said, staring at her feet and the ground below. Kvornan's chest rose with barely suppressed laughter. She supposed that this was probably mundane for him.

Jennail folded the fabric of his cloak between her fingers. His body heat was so inviting that she wondered if it would be too forward to slip her arms beneath his cloak. Kvornan gently smoothed her hair at the base of her neck and she broke away from him, determined to see the sky.

It was a cloudy night and relatively silent apart from last crickets of the season. Kvornan threaded his fingers between hers, bringing her down from the stars. The pair locked eyes, finding themselves very close and holding hands.

“We shouldn’t be out here like this. You’re going to get me into so much trouble someday," Jennail said, untangling her hand from his and looking away at nothing in particular.

“Oh, absolutely. Tonight if we’re lucky.”

Jennail bit her lip to keep from laughing. It was true that he was awful but it was equally true that for all her protests, she was awful too.

“You may still kiss me, you know," he said. Jennail leaned away from him playfully.

“Ah but I still don’t want to.”

“Maybe I think you’re pretty.”

“Bollocks.” Kvornan smirked at her obscenity. He leaned forward and she stopped him with a palm at the center of his chest.

“I need to ask you a favor. And don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing enough as it is,” she said. Kvornan hesitated but then brought his hand to her cheek, trailing his thumb along her jawline.

“Shoot.”

“I’m going to fail third year Object Manipulation.” Kvornan raised an eyebrow, perhaps uncertain of where the conversation was going.

“How does that happen?” Jennail scowled and he pressed his forehead to hers sympathetically.

“Need me to get you out of it?”

“No. I want you to help me learn it.”

“What? Like a tutor or something?”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“As often as you can spare, I guess.”

“That's a dangerous thing to say. I might never leave.”

“It’s a risk I’m just going to have to take.” Kvornan's eyes darted away. He seemed to be struggling to stop himself from beaming like a fool.

“Once a week then?”

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow at three o’clock?”

“If you insist.”

“I do. I’m going to say goodnight now.” Jennail felt the corners of her mouth drooping into an involuntary pout. She hoped that she didn't look as disappointed as she felt.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’ll try to keep the inappropriate visits down to a minimum.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Kvornan helped to ease her back onto the balcony. He carefully avoided looking at her legs, which she found to be somehow endearing. Once she found herself planted on the concrete tile, Kvornan took her hand and kissed it.

“Peace be with you, Jennail.” She smirked, shaking her head.

“You can call me Nailli.”

“There is no chance of me ever calling you that.” Jennail rolled her eyes at him and his touch fell away, leaving her feeling cold and insubstantial. She wanted to crawl back into his arms and stay there.

“Goodnight you insufferable boy.” Kvornan ascended above her line of vision. She heard his feet hit the roofing overhead and wondered if the sound had disturbed anyone. When she made her way back through the window, Maya was still pretending to sleep. Jennail closed the window behind her and pressed her back against the panes.

Later Today, I Swears

2010-02-28T10:34:00.002-05:00

I've been meaning to have the newest Mouse and Shadow drabble up since like Thursday. It's mostly done. Above previews do not document actual events.

Three: Jennail Is Called Mongrel and Mouse

2010-02-21T22:43:00.004-05:00

September 18, 1983- Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville

Professor Brylowe glided through the classroom, her heels making a slow but steady clack clack clack on the hardwood floor.

"Focus your energy not on the underside of the pitcher nor the surface of the table but between the pitcher and the table. The challenge is in understanding where the pitcher ends and the table begins."

Jennail picked up her pitcher, testing it for weight. She had a feeling that the amount of force used to lift the object with her hands was entirely different from the force needed to lift it with her mind but this was just a feeling. She had barely passed object manipulation in her previous year and could not have claimed to know what she was doing. Jennail took a deep breath, closed her eyes and concentrated.

Around her, she could hear the scraping of tile on wood as the other girls managed to levitate their pitchers. Jennail tried to ignore the low pulse of adrenaline that told her she was falling behind and that she would never be able to catch up. She imagined the space between the pitcher and the table. But then, was she meant to imagine it or was there some other trick? How could she know something that she couldn't see or hear or smell or taste or touch without imagining it?

Jennail peeked through her squinted lids to see if the pitcher had budged. It hadn't. Conversely, the pitcher that had been stationed across from it was now dangling so high that Jennail could hear it gently tapping the ceiling.

The student facing Jennail, Lakshmi Summerdream-Satti was smirking at her, the poisonous green of her eyes glowing like the moon.

"You'll break the table, you keep doing that tvoashi," she whispered in English. Jennail frowned less at the racial slur (the other girls called her 'tvoashi' or 'mongrel' so often that it was starting to take on the resonance a nickname) and more at the implication that she was going about the exercise incorrectly. It was difficult for her to know whether Lakshmi was merely teasing or whether she really was headed towards collapsing the table. Her motionless pitcher did seem indicative of the fact that she was doing something wrong. Jennail frowned at the hollow mass of cement and glass. The space between the pitcher and the table. Was there space between the pitcher and the table?

Jennail had not heard Professor Brylowe approaching her stool. She had only been alerted to her instructor's presence when her delicate brown hands darted out to Jennail's chest, compressing what Jennail could only assume was her lungs.

"Your breath is here. Here, child! What is the matter with you?" Professor Brylowe concluded her scolding by hitting Jennail soundly on the back of the head. Lakshmi bit her lip to control her giggling fit.

"I’m sorry, I—"

"Stay focused, girl! I swear, it’s as worthless to educate a partling as it is to teach a mouse to pull a freight train." Jennail gawked at the professor for an instant, during which she received another sharp blow to the head. "Shoulders back, face forward before you kill yourself! If there’s a God above, you will learn this by the end of the day!" Jennail pinched the bridge of her nose and screwed her eyes shut, slightly reeling from the assault.

"I’m sorry! I just--"

"Don’t be sorry, be accurate!" And with that, Professor Brylowe passed her by. Jennail readjusted her pitcher in the name of getting sensory input from the object but knew full well that she had given up on the task at hand. What did her breathing have to do with anything? She was lost. Lakshmi grinned at her and she had the most peculiar feeling that the redhead could hear her inner monologue.

"I am not without sympathy for your plight, Miss Tricou," Professor Brylowe began as she paced the room. "On the contrary, I understand your inabilities very well. While your people were inventing the pointed stick, our people were inventing physics. While your people were still rolling around in their own filth, our people were building Shintow Gate. Your race is an evolutionary throw-back, worthy of-- Mind your pitcher, Miss Ghent! Worthy of scientific inquiry. Partlings are not fit for study but fit to be studied. Are you human or are you fae, Miss Tricou?" By this time, the professor had come full circle and was standing just above Jennail, who shrank away as best she could without being too obvious. She did not know how the professor wanted her to respond. When she spoke, it was out of a certain proprietary pride for what she was.

"I’m both," Jennail murmured. With that, the professor picked up Jennail's end of the table and slammed it down, causing the entire room to jump and nearly toppling Jennail's otherwise stationary pitcher. Professor Brylowe pressed her lips into a thin, pallid line.

"Prove me wrong," she demanded. Jennail folded her arms on the table, catching her professor's eye.

"Yes, Professor Brylowe,"she said.

"And get yourself a good tutor. Your performance really is appalling at this stage of your education."

"Yes, Professor."

Jennail raked her fingers through her ponytail, resting her forehead on the pitcher. She was definitely missing something and it was more than cognitive. She had no magic to speak of. She was there in that classroom because once upon a time ago, her surname meant something amongst faes. Her presence was nothing more than a tribute to the dried-out line of minor nobility that formed her ancestry. Jennail picked at a glass tile with her fingernail. The only way that she knew how to get this pitcher airborne was to throw it-- And the prospect of that made her smile to herself.

The bell rang and the girls hastened to put away their pitchers before heading out the door. Jennail was nearly last to leave. Maya stood outside the door with one foot propped against the brick wall. She linked arms with Jennail as they started down the hall.

"How was class?" Maya asked, reading Jennail's expression. She could not see her own face but Jennail supposed that she probably looked upset or at the very least, tired.

"It's a nightmare. I have no idea what I'm doing in there." Jennail ran her free hand along the banister absently. Maya matched her pace, step for step and leaned her head towards her friend.

"It's only the start of the new term. You'll soon sort it out."

"I don't know that I can."

Jennail allowed Maya to proceed ahead of her down the staircase to keep her from seeing her dismay at thoughts about what her energy and her genetics barred her from doing.

"Of course you can. You're the smartest, most capable person I know," Maya said. Jennail gently squeezed her shoulder in gratitude but kept silent. When they reached the first floor, Maya stepped in front of her and smiled. They had been close long enough that Jennail could read even Maya's smallest gestures with breathtaking precision. Jennail's frown deepened, knowing what Maya was on the verge of suggesting.

"No," Jennail said flatly. Maya placed her hands on Jennail's shoulders, continuing to smile pleasantly.

"I don't know what you find to be so objectionable about him but don't let your pride stand in the way of progress."

"He's a slimeball, Maya! You have no idea." Maya hid an uncontrollable snort behind her hand.

"Even so. I think he'd help you."

"Imagine me asking the Sheut how to make a pitcher float. It's ridiculous, Maya. It would be like asking Raphael to help me understand the color wheel. No."

"He'd totally do it though."

"It isn't a question of what he would do. It's the principle of the thing."

Maya sighed and shook her head. She leaned forward and kissed Jennail on the cheek.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Maya pushed a lock of Jennail's hair behind her ear. Jennail shook her head.

"No. I think that my wishes are very reasonable. All I ask is to find a tutor who doesn't look at me like he wants to eat me alive." Maya snickered at Jennail's observation while Jennail herself hastened to shove her hands in her pockets, remembering the sensation of his mouth.

Follow Me On Google Buzz

2010-02-16T09:16:00.002-05:00

Mostly so I can figure out how to use this effing thing. I think that you can just search me by email address when you're in gmail (draggingbluelake@gmail.com). Then click "follow". I don't know how I got sucked into doing this here whatchamacallit with the hoo ha and the doo dads. *grumbles*

Two: Jennail Loses Her Last

2010-02-15T20:46:00.004-05:00

September 12, 1983- Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville

Maya clasped Jennail's hand and lead her into the colonnade, combing the light rain from her dark blonde hair. The pair were habitually late for classes, tea service, prayer and anything else that they were scheduled to do. It was not uncommon for the marble halls of Ethelden Palace to echo with the sound of their heels as they ran, hand in hand.

The rain was picking up. It battered the western face of the building and was almost deafening through the open door. Jennail paused to catch her breath.

"Come on." Maya tugged at her friend's arm. Jennail doubled over, clasping her knee with her free left hand.

"No. You go ahead. I'll catch up." Maya frowned, poised to argue and Jennail let go of her hand. "I'll meet you before you reach the library," Jennail insisted.

"Alright. If I get there before you, I'll make some excuse." Ghostly plumes of moist air left Maya's parted lips as she panted. Jennail waived her on, too short of breath to conjure up another sentence. Maya, in turn, picked up her skirts and began to jog away. She barely covered a few paces before the door at the far end of the room flew open.

Even from a distance in that dimly lit room, Jennail recognized him. Maya stopped in her tracks, seeming to remark something unusual about the boy's sudden appearance though she could not have known who he was. A miserable groan rose from Jennail's throat, unbidden. Maya shot a questioning glance over her shoulder. The ladies' book circle be damned. Jennail's entire schedule was derailed by this. Even if he only passed with a polite hello, she would find herself unable to focus for the remainder of the day. From here on, everything she touched would fall to pieces.

The Sheut caught her stare and Jennail hastily lowered her eyes. The recognition was there but he did not smile or nod. He remained as cryptic and penetrating as he had been during their first meeting. Jennail crept up alongside her friend while the Sheut made his way across the room. He stopped a few feet away and bowed.

“I was wondering when I would see you again. I never did catch your name,” he said. Jennail grabbed Maya's hand in preparation to lead her out of the colonnade.

“And so you shan’t. Come along, Maya.” The Sheut raised a hand to still the pair and both complied automatically. Jennail's cheeks flushed in sudden frustration. “Peace go on you, Lord!” She had not meant to snap but everything about him triggered her defenses. Finally, his face broke into a smile.

Jennail replayed the previous moments in her mind, trying to determine what he found to be so amusing. She let go of Maya's hand and folded her arms over her chest, waiting for him to reveal his secrets. His eyes glittered wickedly. He shoulders shook with silent laughter. But beyond that, Jennail sensed that she would get no further insight. She sucked her teeth in annoyance.

"Be a gentleman." Her voice was low. Jennail was doing everything in her power to keep her breathing steady, still exhausted from the run. She would not let him think that he had that sort of effect on her. Still snickering, the Sheut stepped to one side, allowing them to pass.

"Of course. I'm sorry. Peace be with you."

As they walked towards the opposite end of the hall, Jennail could feel his eyes on her. She wondered what she had done to catch his interest and whether she wanted it.

“He’s cute, Nailli," Maya whispered. Jennail frowned.

“He isn't.” This, at least, she could say without second guessing herself. His features were too delicate and girlish for her taste.

“Her name is Jennail!” Maya spun about in mid-march, grabbing Jennail's arm. Her shout resounded against the walls, drowning out the rain.

“Maya!” Jennail sucked in her breath and glared at her traitorous friend. Her name was her final barrier of protection, the last wall that kept him safely at arm's length.

“Jennail Helouise Tricou. Nailli for short. And we live at number six Mornington Court.” Jennail pinched Maya's arm to get her to shut-up. Maya swatted at her hand. The Sheut looked on seemingly without thought or judgement.

“May I visit you sometime, Nailli?” he asked. Jennail spun around to face him.

“No but you may call me Miss Tricou!” The Sheut cocked his head to the side, considering her. Jennail didn't know what she liked less-- The way detached way that he observed her like a chemist monitoring a test tube reaction or the liberties that he took. Something or another about her was interesting to him but nothing more. And that he had the ability to make her angry or embarrassed, nauseated or enraptured-- That she could feel all of those things while he felt nothing at all-- infuriated her.

“My apologies, Miss Tricou. I hope that we'll see one another again.” Maya gave Jennail's shoulder a gentle tug and Jennail tried to shrug her off without success.

“Heaven help you if we do!” The threat sounded more forceful in her head. Kvornan shifted his weight to one leg. He winked at her. Jennail contemplated throwing her shoe at him but Maya took her by the arm.

“Who was that?” she giggled. Jennail paused before answering. His name sat like coagulated bile at the pit of her stomach.

“The Sheut of Proximus Deus." Maya's eyes widened.

“Honestly?” Jennail nodded curtly.

“Wow. And me with my hair in a complete mess. How do you know him?” Jennail fought the urge to turn back. She looked up at the ceiling, not caring to explain the situation but not wanting to lie to her friend.

“He owes me a meal," she said bitterly.

Halber Mensch: A Photoshoot

2010-02-13T21:29:00.002-05:00

Ever look at old chapters and wish that you had photographed something differently? Of course you do. And so do I.

If I had Chapter 46 to do over again, Kvornan would have looked slightly different:

Dear Van

2010-02-13T17:00:00.002-05:00

I solved the window dilemma! Thanks for helping in the brain storming process. :) Set previews of Mornington Court are below.

One: Jennail Is Starved

2010-02-10T19:53:00.015-05:00

September 3, 1983- Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville

Jennail was free. Her eyes darted towards the over-grown door at her back, anxious not to hear her name ringing from the battlements. This was the first time that she had ever dared to run out on the other ladies but if she had to be party to another conversation about make-up application or fine stitching or eligible men, she might have slit her throat with a letter opener.

Jennail reached into her pocket for the bit of carrot cake that she tucked away and shoving a small piece into her mouth, she peered through the bushes in front of her. The brusque chill of autumn was already hanging in the breeze. It stung her cheeks and sank through her sleeves like water.

Jennail stood on her toes, trying to get a better look at what awaited her on the other side of the shrubbery. Beyond the tiny waxen leaves, there were only more leaves. She walked the length of the shrubs, dragging her fingers along the stone wall at their base until she reached an opening.

She knew that there were a few hedge mazes on the grounds but she had never stumbled across one before now. The Magi made a practice of navigating mazes as a form of meditation. This one was potentially several miles in length. Jennail produced a large hunk of cake from her pocket, intent on leaving a trail for as long as the cake held out.

The clouds rolled past, leaving only the lapis-colored sky in their wake. Jennail turned her face upward and drank in the sunlight. How many days like this had she wasted indoors, bent over her sewing? She didn't like to think on it.

The air inside the hedge maze was different, heavy with the scent of loam. When the wind blew, the walls around her contracted. She felt as though she were tunneling, Pinocchio-like, down the intestines of a giant whale.

Through the breeze, Jennail could hear water trickling. She turned to her left, following the sound. After only a few minutes of wandering, she caught sight of the fountain that marked the center of the labyrinth. This small triumph was enough to make her smile at her own cleverness.

Bells rang in the distance, signaling afternoon mass. Jennail contemplated running back to the palace but thought that she would have a drink of water before she exited the maze. Spinning on her heel, she approached the center.

Jennail paused before she reached the fountain, caught off guard by the sight of a boy reclining on a bench. He was about her age, maybe a little younger and dressed in the thick woolen mantle of an acolyte. Jennail took a step back as he raised his head to look at her. His chestnut hair fell over his eyes but he did not bother to push it away. Jennail stuffed her mouth full of cake, foolishly thinking that it was the best way to disguise her unladylike habit of carrying around food in her hands.

If the boy had any feeling either way about the intrusion, he was hiding it well. Jennail stood frozen to the spot while he swung his legs over the edge of the bench.

"I don't know how you found me but you may tell the Magister Templi to go fuck herself. I'm not coming," he said. There was both an edge and a finality to his tone. Jennail gasped, never having been spoken to in such a fashion in all her life. The boy rose an eyebrow. "What are you still doing here? Go."

"I-- I'm not from the temple." Her words were muddled by the fullness of her mouth. The boy stood and Jennail had the peculiar urge to kneel. On his feet, he was rendered somehow formidable-- a lion poised on its haunches.

"What are you eating?" he asked incredulously. Jennail swallowed as much as she could before answering.

"Carrot cake." She didn't know how she had managed to sound so infantile over the space of three syllables but she scolded herself for it. The boy tossed his hair over his shoulder and approached. She fought the urge to wipe her hands on her dress, feeling that she would only embarrass herself further.

His expression was unreadable; not blank but open, not empty but devouring. She understood then what made her want to drop to her knees at his feet. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who sat at the heads of all tables.

"What's your name?" he whispered. Jennail kept silent. Her heart was pounding in her throat. She did not need to ask his name. When she failed to respond, he came closer. She held his gaze, not daring to move. The Sheut threw his arms around her shoulders and she grabbed the front of his robe to steady herself. Her hands were sticky with confectionary but their bodies were mashed too tightly for her to pull away.

"Don't swallow." His voice was deep and throaty. Before Jennail had time to register what he was saying, his lips were pressed firmly against hers. He licked the opening of her mouth in request for entry and despite her better judgement, she acquiesced.

She had been kissed before but never this way and never with such an intention. The Sheut slid his tongue across the roof of her mouth where much of the cake had lodged its self. Jennail was reminded of a bird regurgitating into the mouth of its young. Her revulsion compelled her to push him at the center of his chest and to her surprise, he let go.

"You really shouldn't eat unless you've brought enough to share with the whole class," he said. Jennail bit her lower lip, trying to contain the unholy mixture of disgust, embarrassment and worst of all, longing that ebbed throughout her body, forcing her to shiver. She wanted him to do it again.

"Don't tease me," she whispered. The boy snaked his hands down to the small of her back.

"Don't tell me what to do."

He backed away from her slightly and her breath quickened as though she had spent the previous moments starved for oxygen. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to be furious. How dare he? No matter who he was. But it was impossible to be angry when her heart was fluttering. He raised her wrist to the level of his lips and gently kissed the back of her hand. Then he turned her hand over and she closed her eyes out of sheer disbelief, anticipating what he was going to do before he did it.

The Sheut kissed each of her fingertips in turn before flicking his tongue across her soiled palm. Jennail tried to pull out of his grasp but he held her wrist firm. With his free hand, he stroked her side, stopping underneath her breast with each stroke, just close enough to make her worry. Then all movement ceased. Jennail opened her eyes, apprehensive about what could possibly come next. The Sheut closed her fist and then, staring her dead in the eye, placed her index finger in his mouth.

The actual sensation of it was much what she would have expected. His mouth was warm and wet as mouths tended to be. But the result that the flirtation had on the rest of her body was unimaginable. His teeth grazed her skin and her stomach stirred pleasantly. His tongue encircled her finger and her muscles clenched. Heat rose throughout her torso. Her knees weakened. She was ashamed of herself and her traitorous body, particularly when she realized that he had let go of her wrist some time ago. Jennail pulled her finger out of his mouth slowly, her arousal intensifying as he held her gaze.

"You're awful," she said, wiping his mouth with the back of her hand.

"If I am, you're worse for being excited by it." Jennail dropped her hand from his face. She made an indignant sound from the back of her throat but could think of no retort. Her heart continued to hammer in her chest. The situation was so mortifying. Part of her demanded that she run away in tears. She had only just met Kvornan Tanner and he had succeeded in making her want him. But more than that, she wanted not to want him. "You may kiss me if you like," he said simply.

"I don't want to kiss you." It was a lie but she was too proud to say or do otherwise.

"If not now then later. Consider this a standing offer." He smirked. Sensing that she had been given leave to go, Jennail picked up her skirts and jogged away.

Her crumbs were left even in the places where she had made wrong turns and Jennail was too frustrated to concentrate on the way she came. Now that he was no longer looking at her, now that he was no longer touching her, fury pounded in her temples. She remembered something that her professor had taught her about the Sheut of the Fifth Age-- that his name at invocation, Lux'xief, was old Ashkay for 'Bear Unto Me The Torch'. Jennail could not have said what that meant but after this, she felt like she understood intuitively.

It was sacrilegious and generally wrong but before Jennail reached the exit to the maze, hot, angry tears were rolling down her cheeks. She knew with full clarity that she hated him.

Oh... Ass Cakes. (Kvornan Gets A New Boudoir)

2010-01-27T11:22:00.003-05:00

So I went to the Ethelden Palace main campus last night for the first time since I purged a crap ton of unlabeled (and occasionally system duplicated) custom content files that were interfering with BodyShop and making my lots go crash. I was in for a little bit of a shocker when I got there.

Most of the architectural elements were gone. Staircases. Wallpapers. Columns. Balistrades. Shrubberies. And most importantly and tragically and hair-pullingly-- MY WINDOWS! MY BEAUTIFUL WINDOWS!! NNOOOOOOO!!!!! My gorgeous spralling balconies with their pretty stone ballistrades and large, romantic windows! And look at what happened to Kvornan's conservatory:

It is to weep. I will never be able to use that set again unless I can find those windows and that wallpaper. Similarly, I am going to have to relocate his bedroom. I suppose he'll have to move in with Tara.

The other rooms that we have seen in the story are unaffected by the tragedy. But that conservatory. Kvornan spends all of his time in there. I'm going to have to carve out another hidey-hole for him to be emo in.

Little Lord November

2010-01-27T00:24:00.002-05:00

1976 (age 6)

1983 (age 13)

1995 (age 25)

The Vampire Sheut: 1998 - 2074

2010-01-24T22:30:00.004-05:00

1998 - 2015

2015-2031

2031 - 2051

2051 - 2062

2062 - 2064

2064 - 2070

2070 - Present

HOLY CATS, BATMAN!

2010-01-20T23:09:00.001-05:00

I think I may have found real life Alexei!

Check out this dude from Copenhagen

Chapter 68 Preview

2010-01-20T08:00:00.001-05:00

Banner Retirement

2010-01-17T23:16:00.001-05:00

Here lies the banner for 64-66

He Who Twists: A Photoshoot

2010-01-17T03:56:00.007-05:00

For wallpaper images, click on these here little ones below:

Don't know why there's a weird color shift with the smaller images but the larger images that they link to don't seem to suffer from the same issue.

Chapter 67 Preview

2010-01-16T23:11:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday, Van!

2010-01-03T12:01:00.004-05:00

My goal for today is to have Chapter 66 posted in honor of the aforementioned birthday because while 19 may not seem like a milestone compared to the ages that surround it, it should at the very least merit some images of sims accompanied by joined-up letters on a computer screen.

UPDATE: And now for my customary postponement. D'oh! Sorry Van! When I should have been writing, I was having too much fun in-game. Regardez:

And as Veron is my witness, Alexei is lucky that that's all I did to his hair.