Reaper's Genetic Legacy Experiment [Complete]

[LivvieLove]

I really love the fact that Charlotte went into depth about Majnun's wives. Nothing is what is seems to be with Majnun.

Charlotte has grown on me a lot. She's a very ambiguous character, kind of like Majnun - it's no wonder they get along so well.
I'm interested to see how this will affect Fate as a character.
Nothing is what it seems to be with Majnun. I like how you worded that a lot. It's very true.

Survey
Hello my favorite readers!
As we're transitioning to the next story, I have decided to pursue a thought I had mentioned earlier in the story: backstories/continuations. I love my Reapers and I would hate to overwhelm everyone here, but I would like to expand on old favorite characters/characters who didn't get the spotlight long/characters you WANT to see more of. I've made a checklist survey where you can skim through and select as many (or few) characters as you'd like to maybe see more from! I understand how throwing these in willy nilly can get a little confusing, so I'm still working out the details in what I'll do (whether I'll make a separate story thread following them, or just dedicate a section in the chapters area, I'm unsure at the moment. I have played and paid very close attention to ALL of my Reapers, so while you may not have heard about what they're doing (unless they're relevant, like Jack and Liam) they all have stories to tell. I also added in a few sections to cover areas of heirs that may have been skimped over (namely Edward and Mary's childhood due to my game lagging badly). I'm also going to leave an area where you can list off anyone who isn't mentioned.
This survey will not be closed. It'll be ongoing and I'll update it every once in a while to see if anything has changed. Once I go about the best way to post these miniature stories I'll start working on each requested Sim (I would eventually love to do all the Sims, but I'm going to go for requested ones first so that it will at least be someone you WANT to hear about). If you do not see a specific Sim on there, there's also a chance that I'm ALREADY working on their story/backstory and it will be coming in the future, and I'd rather not be redundant (like the story is fully Eveline's now, so she will not be on there until I switch gears and she's no longer on there).

Please feel free to pop on over, and please let me know if the survey works for you or not. I'm not 100% familiar with SurveyMonkey so I am just hoping that it will turn out well enough. I don't think I'll be starting every chapter with this survey, but I will leave it on the front page for people to see/access.

Feel free to tell me what you think of the idea too - be it that it's too confusing/how you think I should go about doing it/comments/compliments ( ) what-have-you. Thank you all for reading.

Reaper Story Continuation Survey

[Magpie2012]

Argh, my stupid BB won't let me connect to the survey monkey site *pulls hair* but it would have been kinda pointless anyway since I want all the options lol I have the song "I want it all" going through my head right now and that pretty much sums it up lol

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[LivvieLove]

Midnight Hollow - 400 Years Ago

The Girl in the Market

The streets of Midnight Hollow were filled with life as the morning market headed into full swing.

“Daddy, you should sell more flowers here.” It was an idle comment. The woman walked with her arm linked into an older gentleman, with her free hand she twisted her hair in her fingers.
The man patted her hand that rested on his arm. “Flowers are expensive to import my dear. It wouldn’t be very feasible.”
“They would make this place so much brighter.” The woman sighed softly, “everyone here always wears such muted colors. It’s like the world is being suppressed.” Or strangled, she thought to herself.
The man sighed, “it’s too expensive, and besides, no one would buy them!” He gestured to everyone in the crowd, “they wear those colors because they like them. It’s a matter of supply and demand. Not that you could ever understand such complex subjects of management.”

The woman frowned to herself, slowing slightly in her pace, “oh.”
The man looked at the woman he walked with and let out a long breath, “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart, what kind of flower do you think I should sell?”
The woman’s smile grew and she picked up the pace once again, “daffodils, of course!”
The man stopped and looked intently at the woman on his arm. “Alright my darling daughter, then I will look into some shipments of daffodils to see how much it would be to sell a few of those, but only if you promise me something.”
The woman looked at him with big, innocent eyes; “yes daddy?”

“You must come with me to work when I get them in and help sell them to the gentlemen who come in to shop.”
“I don’t know daddy, I don’t think I’m a good salesperson.” She adjusted her dress, picking lint off of it.
“All you’d have to do is stand there and look pretty, which you already are, so it shouldn’t be any trouble at all. Who knows, perhaps you might win over a suitor?” He smiled at her widely, “a suitor that you won’t turn your nose up at?” He added, raising an eyebrow.
The woman knew exactly what he was speaking about, “it wasn’t the right feeling, daddy. I will know when I meet him.”
The man sighed again but nodded, “as long as you’re happy, my daughter. You’re still young, I suppose, and we’ve got suitors lined up around the block. I’m sure at least one will appeal to you.”
The two walked on in silence for a time before two other older gentlemen called over to them.
“Robert! How did I know I would find you out here?” One man had a mustache and a booming laugh that overshadowed the chatter from the busy market. The two other men approached, “my, my! Is that the little Anne? All grown up now, aren’t we?” He paused, assessing her. “Beautiful, just beautiful! You are positively scrumptious, my dear, just like your mother!”
Anne gave him a wistful smile, but her mind was elsewhere, “thank you Martin.” She curtseyed, she had caught a glimpse of the art stand that had set up further down the street, and she wondered if the owner had brought any new paints in.
“Robert, this is my business partner, Jameson.” Martin gestured to the other gentleman next to him, “Jameson, this is Robert Trebo, my dearest friend, and his lovely daughter Anne.”
Jameson took his hat off and bowed lowly. “I have heard of you, Ms. Anne. Your artwork is supposedly adorning the halls of a great many important people.” He held out his hand to her.

Anne blushed delicately and placed her hand in his, allowing him to kiss it gently. “You are too kind.” She smiled.
Martin started, “Robert I was hoping to speak with you about that business move I wanted to make.”
Robert nodded, listening closely.
Anne pulled gently on her father’s arm. “Daddy,” she tilted her head slightly to the side, “Mr. Johnson has opened his shop up for today, could I please go look? He might have new paints in.” She looked over and stood on her toes slightly to attempt to see what was on his table from where she stood.

Robert smiled at his daughter, “go ahead dear, just don’t wander too far.”
Anne didn’t look at her father, but instead started to weave forward a bit before realizing that etiquette dictated that she say goodbye first. She turned and curtseyed to the gentlemen again, “thank you, daddy.”
“Ah, women, they always have their fancies, no?” She could barely hear her father until she lost his voice to the crowd and her sight focused in on the table ahead of her.

A man looked on the market in amusement, he crossed his legs as he sat atop a nearby roof. No one could see him, for if they could they would have been utterly appalled. His patchwork suit did not match, nor did he bother brushing his hair. He had other things to worry about, after all.

Laughter bubbled up to his lips as he reclined back on the roof. He began humming a strange tune as he stared up at the sky.
He sat up in a movement that was too fast for any normal person. His head twisting to look back at the market. He slid off the roof and landed perfectly on his feet with a gentle thud. He gently wiped his jacket sleeves and rolled his shoulders back before pushing through the crowds. No one could see him or hear him, so when he shoved someone, it caused a great deal of fighting. Women thinking the men behind them shoved them forward, men thinking other men were trying to start fights.

A fiendish grin grew on the oddly-dressed man’s face as he kept up his saunter - not bothering to even look at the chaos he left in his wake. He held his hand out and sent the things on the next table flying off of it without even so much as slowing down. He laughed a low, throaty laugh.
The next merchant was out counting his spoils for the day, and the man walking bit back his happiness as he snatched the wad of money out of his hands and threw it up in the air, “free money for everyone!” He called. His voice didn’t make any sound to those around, but everyone heard the concept in their heads at once, and swarmed the merchant.
The man was just giddy by this point, he swiped a cupcake off a tray of them at the sweets stall and bit into it as he walked. He skipped up a step and fluidly jumped on top of the next stall, walking on top of the contents without stopping and smashing the half-eaten cupcake onto the hair of the woman tending the stall. Her screams were music to his ears.
He hopped down just as fluidly as he had hopped up and scanned the area, his eyes locking on a lovely painting that was crying out to be improved by him. He moved and closed the distance between the painting for sale on the easel and snapped his fingers, causing the paint tubes to explode and splatter the surrounding area.
The shopkeeper shouted immediately jumping back, panic setting in. The man’s grin only grew with the distress, but something was wrong. He scrunched his eyebrows together as he struggled to understand the reaction of the woman who stood, paint covering her hair and dress. She was carefully looking at a splatter of paint that hit her hair, but her face did not hold a single inch of upset, instead she stared with curiosity and wonder. “What a pretty color.” She mumbled.

“Miss! Your dress! It’s ruined! I’m so sorry! I have no idea what happened!” The shopkeeper was scrambling over to her with a rag that was also paint covered.
The mismatched man’s eye twitched, “perhaps you shouldn’t have made such a dreadful painting that needs fixed. You know what else it needs? Red!” He smashed his hand down on the paint, so that it exploded both on the painting and further on the girl’s dress. This would surely upset everyone involved.
The woman seemed surprised by the explosion of the paint, and her hands gingerly went to her stomach to wipe a bit off of her dress. The man’s smile grew as he waited for the tears, the scream, the upset. She looked at her fingers, now donning the red paint and then she looked briefly at the painting where the red had splattered across the masterpiece and then back to her hand. Then, in a moment that shook the very fiber of the mismatched man, her eyes connected with his.

It should have been impossible. He jolted back, his face twitching, but her eyes had returned to the painting, wide with realization.
“That’s it, Mr. Johnson! It needed red!” She smiled wistfully as she approached the painting, taking her delicate hand and preparing to apply the red paint from her fingertips, she paused. “May I?”
The mismatched man was steaming, but the shopkeeper was flustered and nodded, “of course! I’d be honored, Ms. Trebo.” He continued to fuss and look over the paints that had exploded with mass confusion and distraught.

The woman had let her fingers start brushing the canvas as she became wrapped up in the colors. “What have I told you Mr. Johnson?” She spoke very softly as she worked, “Ms. Trebo is my mother. Please, call me Anne.” She continued to smear the splattered paint until she finally stepped back and laughed - a sound that echoed like wind chimes.
“Anne! My goodness! What ARE you doing?! You’re positively covered in paint! What is the meaning of this?!” An angry man had joined the scene with two men following him, he was scowling at the shopkeeper and gripping Anne by the arm. The mismatched man scowled deeply, grumbling under his breath the whole time. “Mr. Johnson! What in the world has happened here?!”
The shopkeeper sputtered, looking around at the mess while looking like he may crack under the pressure. The mismatched man was drawn from his insane thoughts only to discover Anne staring right at him again, her eyes held a strange sense of understanding. He looked around and behind him, wondering what it was she was truly looking at, but he still felt the chill inside of him that it was truly him she saw. She turned and the moment ended, much like the last time. “Daddy, please don’t be angry!” She was gripping the angry man’s arm before she stepped back and put her hand to her head, “you see I’m such a clumsy fool sometimes. I was thinking about the last book I read and I wasn’t paying attention and I tripped.” She shrugged her shoulders gently, “I stumbled and smashed all of Mr. Johnson’s paints here. I feel so terrible daddy.” Anne fanned herself and looked distraught, but the mismatched man could see her game. He growled. This wasn’t chaos! His anger was bubbling past the boiling point.
Anne continued, “Mr. Johnson’s beautiful painting also got ruined by my sheer clumsiness, and I was just trying to fix it now. I’m so sorry again, Mr. Johnson. I promise you I’ll paint you a few paintings you can sell for profits to make up for my horrible lack of balance.”
Mr. Johnson was staring at her in wonder, his face flushed as he tried to understand what was going on, “no, Ms. Anne, please do not feel bad! Your skill with the paints can only ever improve a piece of art! I’m honored that you would do me the service of selling your paintings!”

The mismatched man had enough; he was ready to scream. He raised his fist high and attempted to bring it down onto the yellow paint tube, but by the time his hand had struck it only hit the empty table. Anne had made a mad scramble and grabbed the paint out from underneath his fist. He screamed in frustration, but no one could hear him - no one but Anne, who tried not to flinch at the sudden noise.
“Daddy I hate to ask this of you, but I’m truly low on yellow paint. I don’t have any money with me today, however Ms. Finch has commissioned me for a sunflower painting that will desperately need this yellow. Do you suppose I could borrow the money from you so that I might pay you back later?”
The once angry man had softened and smiled at Anne. “Of course my dear. You know you don’t need to pay me back at all. I support my girl having a hobby. It’s a shame your clumsiness had to ruin your dress though.” The man shook his head.
Anne looked down at the dress again and sighed, “well, mother always hated the color of it anyways.” Anne nodded, picking at the paint that had started to dry on her dress. “Too bright.” She shrugged.
The mismatched man was pulling on his hair, “too bright?! I’ll show YOU too bright!” He looked around trying to find a thing of paint.
“No!” Anne suddenly realized her mistake and her voice slid back down, “no!” She mimicked, much softer as everyone stared at her. “I’ll be more sensible next time when dress shopping. I promise.”
The men looked at each other and laughed, the man Anne had been addressing shook his head again, “women, am I right, men?”
The men all nodded in agreement, except for the mismatched man who was trying to find anything to use against this infuriating woman. “You STUPID -” his voice dropped to something unhearable to anyone before it slid back up, “-meddling WOMAN!” He growled as he hit the table again.
“Come, Anne, let’s get you home and cleaned up. Perhaps Daisy can save your dress if we hurry.”
Anne looked around and curtseyed to everyone, “I’m so sorry again Mr. Johnson. I hope your painting is able to be spared. I’ll have my paintings to you by the end of the week! I hope that will be enough to cover the damages!”
The shopkeeper looked at her in awe, “thank you so much Anne, I’m sure it will be more than enough. Your paintings are quite desired!”
One of the men who had come up with Anne’s father looked at the shopkeeper, “you give me a call when you get in her work, I’ll gladly take one of them off your hands. Just name your price.” He said immediately.
Anne flushed, “you’re too kind, Jameson.”
“Come, Anne.” Her father beckoned her.

The mismatched man watched her with a deadpan look as he leaned against the art table. He was calculating all the ways that she would regret today.

[Magpie2012]

I knew it!!!

We finally get an origin story for Alec (of sorts)!

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[oshizu]

More Majnun madness. I love it!

[LivvieLove]

Argh, my stupid BB won't let me connect to the survey monkey site *pulls hair* but it would have been kinda pointless anyway since I want all the options lol I have the song "I want it all" going through my head right now and that pretty much sums it up lol

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Hahah, you and me both. I love this family.

I knew it!!!

We finally get an origin story for Alec (of sorts)!

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I was trying so hard to be super sneaky about it!  Ah well. I guess I haven't shown ALL of my cards yet, there's still a lot everyone doesn't know!

More Majnun madness. I love it!

Oh Majnun is one of my favorite Sims. His character is amazing, but his Sim is also equally ridiculous. I'm glad you like it! It'll be here for a while!

So I know a lot of these pictures aren't quite right, but I'm hoping they at least get most of the message across. It's hard because I wrote a lot of this first and then got pictures for it later. 
Until then, you can enjoy another relatively soon thanks to my ambitious pre-writing. :3

[LivvieLove]

The Gods Among Us

Anne had scrubbed herself and changed into clean clothing. She braided her hair and replayed the memories from the day. She now had an extra tube of yellow paint she would have to use somewhere along the way, but yellow was a pretty color, so she didn’t mind. She walked down the stairs of her house and outside into the garden. It was bleak for a garden in her opinion, but flowers had a tough time growing here, so the few things that did grow were dull and seemingly lifeless. She looked at the shrubs sadly as she passed.
She walked over to her easel and sucked in her cheek. Perhaps she was really going crazy.
She idly picked up her paintbrush and twirled it into the red and yellow paint, wondering how she could capture the brightness that was the man she saw at the market. He was the most colorful person she had ever seen. It was like breathing again after holding her breath indefinitely.
Anne quietly looked at the blank canvas and started the background for the sunflower commission.

A frail woman poked her head out from the backdoor of the home. “Miss? Are you out here?” She asked quietly, looking around the garden.

Anne was too deeply ingrained in painting to hear her or respond.
“Miss Anne?” The woman timidly spoke as she approached.
Anne jolted from her art but she recovered almost immediately, “good afternoon, Daisy.” She smiled at the maid. “How are you doing today?” Anne asked thoughtfully as she cleaned her brushes methodically.

Daisy seemed surprised by the kindness, and she smiled, “I’m very well, thank you Miss.” She looked at the painting on the easel, “my goodness Miss! That’s absolutely beautiful!”
Anne tilted her head at the painting, her delicate lips frowning slightly, “it didn’t turn out the way I hoped.”
“Oh, Miss, you’re surely pulling my leg. The painting is so beautiful! The flowers really stand out on the background.”
“Would you like it?” Anne looked up from examining one of her paint brushes.
Daisy’s mouth opened, “I don’t have any money to pay you Miss…” She looked down sadly.
Anne shook her head sweetly, “no charge. I’ve already got far too many practice paintings taking up space in my closet, and since you expressed interest I would much rather see it go to a good home.”
Daisy’s eyes grew wide as though she couldn’t comprehend the gift, “thank you, Miss.” Was all she could manage to say. Anne carefully grasped the painting by the canvas and handed it to her.
“Here, grab it just like that, until it’s dry you might not want to touch the painted part.” She smiled and turned back to her supplies, “did you need me for something Daisy?” Anne asked as she sealed off her paint.
“Oh! Yes! I’m so sorry Miss. I was coming to tell you that I got the stains out of your dress!” Daisy gave her a wide smile, “the red was tough, but thankfully I’m a determined girl!” She laughed lightly. They both started wandering back towards the house.

Anne smiled, “I thought it would be a lost cause, thank you so much for saving it.” Anne looked down, “I had fought so hard with my mother just to get a dress that color.” She spun around to face Daisy, then shifted her voice to something much stuffier: “It’s just too impractical Anne!” She scolded, mimicking her mother. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb!”

Daisy nodded, “you do stand out in it Miss, but it’s a good thing. It brings out your eyes.” She smiled.
The girls walked in silence for a moment before Daisy spoke again: “oh, Mr. Johnson stopped in to see you not too long ago. He just wanted to-" her voice dropped low, "'be sure Ms. Trebo was alright after today.' I think he fancies you.” She grinned while giving Anne a knowing look. “Romantics - those artists are.” She wiggled her eyebrows at her.
Anne laughed and shook her head, “I told him to call me Anne," She spoke softly. "Don't look at me that way! My father would never approve of that match.”

Daisy bit her lip, but still smiled, “star-crossed lovers you’d be.” She teased. “Forever kept apart by the cruel hands of fate!”
Anne puckered her lips, “I don’t imagine myself ending my own life for him though.”
“No, I suppose not.” Daisy shook her head, “there’s also a rumor on the grapevine that Jameson McNeel is looking for a new wife and that his eyes may have been turned on to you.”
Anne frowned, remembering meeting him earlier that day. She shrugged. The girls had made it inside the house by this point and were working their way into the main room.
“Is that a ‘no,’ Miss?” Daisy seemed surprised. “He’s handsome, polite, and still fairly young.” She fanned herself, “he’s also very well-off.” Daisy looked at Anne, “It would be a smart match.”
Anne made a face, “I imagine my father is thinking that exact same thing.” She sighed, “a business transaction.” She frowned. “Where’s the grand romantic gesture in that?”
Daisy pursed her lips, “now, now, Miss. I don’t think your father would ever make the decision without your consent. Grand romantic gestures are nice in books and all… but in the real world we should remind ourselves that nothing is better than a safe and happy home with few worries.”
Anne smiled wistfully. “If people can write books about it, then why can’t it happen here?”
Daisy snorted, “all kinds of fancies happen in books that can’t happen here, Miss. Magic and sorcery and all of that nonsense make for interesting books, but you don’t see them here!”
“You don’t believe in magic?” Anne asked quietly.
Daisy shrugged, “I believe in what I know to be true.” She looked around, “I watch the plants grow, and the sun come up, and I pray to the gods, but I’ve never seen me any kinds of magic.” She shook her head, “I would have a hard time saying something is true when all I’ve heard is whispers.”
Anne shook her head, “yet you’ll believe rumors ‘from the grapevine?’”
“Only ones that pertain to you and the household.” Daisy smiled, “and only ones that don’t come from that liar Martha next door.”
Anne laughed sweetly.
“All I’m saying is that Mr. McNeel is a surprisingly kind-hearted man, and he might almost be worthy of a lovely lady such as yourself.” Daisy finished, they stood outside of Anne’s room and Daisy reached for the doorknob, opening it gently but both women stood frozen.

The room had been utterly destroyed. Paint was splattered on the walls, the chairs had been overturned - the room seemed to be completely in disarray. On the walls were painted “MEDDLING WOMAN” in yellow paint.
Daisy looked around in shock, “Miss… your room!” She lamented, “no one’s been in here all day, I swear it!” She shook her head and scrunched her eyebrows.
Anne looked around her, reality settling in slowly for her, but seemingly unmoved. “Daisy?” She spoke quietly as Daisy picked up the things off the floor, her voice was level and gentle. “I think I should tell you about what I saw today at the market.”

Majnun sat on the neighbor’s roof of the Trebo house and bit into an apple. He smiled to himself as he thought of what a wonderful job he just did. He bent over and stared into Anne’s window, his fingers digging into the core of the apple, the apple fibers scraping under his fingernails. His face betrayed him and he grinned, though inside he was wanting to scream.
Scream a piercing bloody scream at that stupid, ignorant, pathetic woman! That meddling, frustrating, annoying woman!
He had turned her whole room upside down! He ruined her paintings! He smashed her trinkets! Yet she stood unmoved! There would be no trace of him! She would be handled as though she were insane and she didn’t even seem confused.
The apple oozed juice out as he crushed it, before his anger got the better of him and he threw it, smashing it and causing an explosion on Anne’s window.

The girls both jolted at the noise, Anne coming over to examine the window. Anne opened it slowly and gently let her hands trace along the apple splatter. Her eyes looked up and met his.
He jolted up in a swift movement and perched on his toes on the roof, his glare piercing her.

She tilted her head for a moment, confusion in her eyes before they softened and she smiled softly at him. He practically snarled back at her.
“Miss! What was that?!” He could hear the other woman frantically moving about behind Anne.
“Just a bird, Daisy, it was just a bird.” She nodded to Majnun once before closing her window and turning to walk towards the other woman.
Majnun let himself roll off the roof. His back landed harshly on the ground, a solid three stories below. He stared up at the sky and blew air out through his closed lips, making a strange noise. He felt the laughter that bubbled up and he laughed loudly to the heavens.
He wasn’t even close to finished with her yet.

Anne paused as she scrubbed at the wood floors, looking over at Daisy. “Do you think I’m going crazy?” She asked quietly. To her, this whole mess was a sign that she certainly wasn’t. The man she met at the market was very real, and he was somehow interested in her. There was still this negging voice inside that she had made him up in her head though. She pursed her lips.

Daisy sat on her heels and sighed, “Miss, might I speak plainly with you?”
Anne nodded, “of course.”
Daisy shook her head and looked at the remaining mess. “You have been the only person in your room today.” She paused. “Your room is on the third story and your window is locked. It has remained locked… all day.” She shifted, “you and I are the only ones who have been in the house all afternoon. The front doors are locked - I would know, I check them three times as I come and go through them - and no one has been on the property at all today ‘cept for the master and mistress, yourself and I - oh and Mr. Johnson, but he never made it past the front door.” She held out her hands in front of her. “I cleaned up a paint-splattered dress this afternoon that was yours.” She sighed again, louder. “This does not look good for you, Miss.”
Anne frowned softly, but nodded. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” Her voice was quiet.
“However,” Daisy held up her hand, “in all my many years of knowing you, Miss, you have never destroyed a single painting or wasted a single drop of paint. You once even told me that your art was like a living thing to you, and that you couldn’t imagine ever destroying any form of art - even when you felt it wasn’t done or right.” Daisy nodded thoughtfully. “Even if you were going crazy, I do not think you would be capable of doing this, Miss.”

Anne felt herself smiling at Daisy, feeling eased by the thoughts.
“Your family, however will not see this the same way.” Daisy noted. “So we should get this completely cleaned up before the master and mistress return home.”
“Thank you, Daisy.” Anne spoke softly.
“It will be our secret, unless you start showing other worrying signs.” Daisy went back to scrubbing at a spot of paint. “So you say this man you met at the market was dressed funny?” She made conversation.
Anne smiled wistfully, “not funny, just so bright, Daisy.” She also went back to scrubbing the floor, “It was like he walked out of a dream.”
Daisy looked at her and nodded, “and he wore face paint like a clown?” She raised her eyebrows, trying to hide her goofy smile.
“No, not quite, though one might think it was.” Anne shifted. “It was so intricate.” She paused, “his face was so stern. I wish I could paint it.” She furrowed her brow, especially while it was still fresh in her mind.
“Describe it to me!” Daisy grinned at her, “I want to see this goofy man you’re telling me about.”
Anne sat on the idea for a minute, wondering where she would even began, when she saw a piece of charcoal scattered on the floor. She crawled over and picked it up, grabbing the backside of a painting that now had an unfortunate hole in it. She lamented the painting for a moment before flipping it over and sketching out the rough edges of his face.

“He was very pale, and his nose was sharp. Chiseled.” She let her finger slide along the line she just drew, smudging it as she went, she described what she could while she etched it into the painting’s back. “His lips were thin. Firm. Painted: red.” She noted as she drew along. “His eyebrows were so expressive!” She laughed, “but his eyes… were so… different.” She focused in very hard, struggling to remember them exactly right. “They were gold.” Her voice was softer. “And deep.” She felt a chill run through her. “Filled with so many secrets.” She pursed her lips. “His hair was black,” she sketched the curls of his hair out, “his ears were pointed.” She tilted her head, looking at her rough sketch.
Daisy was amused by Anne’s explanation, but as she peaked over at the drawing her face fell instantly and she dropped the brush she held. She struggled to find the words to even speak as Anne looked at her confused. “I know that face, Miss.” Her voice was hoarse, low.
Anne looked back at her drawing and tilted her head again at it. “You do? Where have you see him before?”
Daisy’s face was still frozen in shock and mild fright. “Me brothers and I, we used to be by ourselves a lot, mother worked very hard and our paps wasn’t around…” she shook her head, “but that’s besides the point, me brother wanted this book once. Worked really hard for the neighborman until he finally had the funds to buy it. The Gods Among Us it was called. It was supposed to be a history book on the ancient magics and gods. I thought it was all hooey. Still kind of do.” She shook her head, her eyes fixated on the picture, “That face was in that book Miss. The god of madness, they call ‘im. The god of magic and madness.” She stared. “They say he’s the sort to laugh at horrible things, to cause chaos and destruction in his wake just for fun.” She looked around the room, “please tell me this is some kind of horrifying joke, Miss.” She pleaded.
Anne looked at her with a straight face and then back down at her sketch, trying to imagine the man in question in this new light. Anne suddenly felt her brow furrowing, "I thought you said you didn't believe in magic, Daisy?"
"I don't! That's why you're surely pulling my leg! Are me brother's going to jump out and say 'got-you' yet?" She looked around nervously.
Anne shook her head. "This is the man I saw at the market, Daisy. I'm not pulling your leg."
Daisy shrunk down, deflated. "You're serious?"
Anne studied her drawing again with softness in her eyes. "No one else in the market could see him it seemed. Either that or they just played ignorant to him." She knew the latter wasn't the case though.
Daisy started looking around before she began muttering to herself.
Anne looked at her curiously.
"I think you've angered him, Miss." She started making motions with her hands. "You should pray to the gods to help appease his anger."
Anne looked at her seriously. "I don't think he's angry."
Daisy looked at her confused, "he destroyed your items! He painted "meddling woman" on your wall!" She pointed to where the paint used to be. "How could you think he's NOT angry with you?!"
"His eyes didn't look angry." She had begun detailing her drawing idly while they spoke.
Daisy laughed, "look at your drawing! He LOOKS angry!" She pointed.
Anne pursed her lips, "no, Daisy. That's not what I mean." She frowned thoughtfully. "His face looks angry, but his eyes look... sad almost." She continued putting details into his eyes, "I wonder if he's lonely."
Daisy snorted, "there, now that we're all cleaned up, I'm going to make you and your parents dinner." She paused, noticing Anne hadn't looked up and sighed. "Listen... if this is real, and he is who I think he is... I highly doubt it's loneliness Miss. He's a god." She shrugged as she gathered herself off the floor and left through the door, curtseying slightly on the way out.
Anne took her drawing and pinned it to where her old paintings used to be that now sat ruined beneath the cloth Daisy placed.

"Certainly gods have feelings too." Anne murmured to the room.

[oshizu]

Anne has sooooo gotten under Majnun's skin!

[LivvieLove]

They Swallow Lemons
Anne woke bright and early to the gray morning. Her room felt a little more empty without the paintings on the walls, but she knew on the bright side that she would have a chance to paint more for her rooms and give it a whole new life. Perhaps some of her old paintings could be spared even? She would have to examine them more thoroughly.
She got up and changed back into her red dress, happy to see the stains completely removed as Daisy informed her. In the world of prim and proper, this was her little rebellion. Was it running off and marrying the artist? Definitely not, but it was as far as Anne felt comfortable pushing the boundaries. This was her freedom. She carefully pinned up her hair in the way she typically wore it and looked at herself in the mirror. Her thoughts drifted back to Jameson McNeel.
He had a wife who passed away during childbirth a few years ago. Daisy, of course, kept up to date with all the news in town. Anne frowned delicately as she thought harder about it. Wife of Jameson McNeel. Mrs. McNeel.
She shook her head. No, it was certainly not a romantic name. Could she get used to it?
There are worse things in life, she supposed. She idly ran her fingers through her hair and decided she had thought far too long on the topic. She had a painting to finish and a garden to attend to.

Anne sat down next to her two daffodil plants - the only brightness she was ever granted in her garden. She fought so hard to keep them alive. She laughed as she sat next to them, her voice carrying on the morning wind.

She actually found herself laughing enough that she didn't notice she was being watched.

Majnun eyed her suspiciously, half amused and half irritated - a fairly normal state for him.
What in the world was she laughing about?
Majnun raised his eyebrows suddenly - perhaps the reason she wasn't moved by him is simply because she already was mad. The thought made a devious smile spread across his lips. Indeed, maybe that was why she didn't panic at the sight of her room in disarray. She probably figured she had destroyed everything herself.
He almost felt a twinge of pity.
Almost.
Then the moment passed, and the multitude of thoughts continued racing through his head - pulling him apart from the inside. His lip twitched in an unamused fashion as he walked along her fence and off into the distance. Mad or not, he still had to come up with some relative punishment for being a nuisance.

He also had to figure out how she could see him. The thought soured him even further and he started to grumble under his breath. "Stupid... meddling... annoyance!" He twitched and scowled, letting out an exasperated groan while he clenched his fists. 

Victoria Trebo sat rigidly in her chair across from her husband, her hands folded in her lap. Each had a plate set in front of them while they waited for their daughter to come in from outside. Victoria's face was solemn at best and sour at worst, as every passing second tested her patience.

Anne quietly entered the room, curtseying gently to her parents at the table. "Good morning mother," her face became even softer, "daddy." She nodded and her father beamed at her.
"Good morning darling." Robert responded back to her, gesturing for her to sit down.
Victoria's gaze was fixed to her husband, "you're late."
Anne seemed a little startled, but she recovered gracefully. "I'm sorry mother." She responded quietly. Explanations were excuses in her mother's eyes, so she didn't bother explaining any further.
They all began to eat, and Robert began to talk about the new business plan he wants to enact in his storefronts.
"Martin was telling me about a new trend they'll be bringing in, a faded opal coloring on curtains." He shook his head. "I don't know where that man makes these discoveries but he's never wrong."

"Jameson is even buying into it this time. The McNeel name is a huge one around here." He looked over at his daughter expectantly, eyeing her reaction.
Anne nodded gently, "he seems like a very nice man." She responded, knowing her father would love to hear her express interest in him.
"I hear his wife died and he's looking for a new one." Victoria responded tactlessly, getting straight to the point as she eyed her daughter suspiciously. "He'll be dropping by to see your father today, Anne. Don't screw it up." She stood up briskly and took her plate out to the kitchen without another word.

Anne kept her head towards her food and she held back a sigh.

"I see Daisy was able to save your dress!" Robert smiled at her daughter, "I'm very glad." He looked off to the window, "you know when you were a child you once spilled paint and you cried about it for days."
Anne pursed her lips, "that paint could have been used for so many wonderful pieces." She sighed, "so many pieces that never came to be because of my clumsiness."
Robert smiled at her, "I hope you'll always continue to paint, my dear." He said quietly as he finished his breakfast. "It is your gift to the world."
Anne smiled at him, "thank you, daddy."
"I'm off to finish up some business upstairs, will you be alright on your own for a bit?"
Anne nodded, "of course. I think I'll paint a little bit more outside. I still owe Mr. Johnson those paintings by the end of the week."
Robert shook his head, "you don't owe him anything, dear. He chose his position as an artist, so surely he must understand that poverty and crisis comes with it - much as the dry season comes for a merchant like your dear father." He grinned at her. "You also might want to be careful you don't give the boy the wrong ideas." He applied the last bit more firmly.
Don't lead him on, Anne interpreted. "Of course not, daddy." She paused, thinking of the best way to word what she wanted to say. "However, you always told me that we should keep our promises, as it makes us more..." She paused for thought. She already knew the answer, but she knew that her father loved having his ego stoked and getting to be right. She applied the tactic perfectly.
"Dependable and trustworthy!" He grinned, "here I thought all of that was going in one ear and out the other." He stood up and kissed his daughter's head on the way out. "Enjoy your morning."

Anne started the edges of her painting and tilted her head as she examined it.

She had grown distracted as she looked around the rooftops, wondering if she might see the oddly-dressed man again. Something in her was determined to speak with him. Surely he hadn't just gone completely away.
Perhaps it was for the best. She pursed her lips and again tried to focus on her artwork, but as she went to create a stroke of yellow, she felt her hand spasm, causing her paintbrush to fall to the ground. Anne was startled by the incident, she idly rubbed her right palm with her left hand as her delicate features were pulled into confusion. She really was distracted today. She flexed her hand and shrugged gently before picking the brush up from the ground and stopping. Yellow would've been silly to place there anyways, she thought, it seems someone is looking out for her.
After an hour, she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the walkway - something she normally didn't even hear at all when she was painting.
"Good morning, Ms. Anne."

Anne turned slightly and felt a little surprised to see Mr. McNeel approaching her easel. "Good morning, Mr. McNeel." she responded with a soft smile.
"Please, I hope you can call me Jameson." Coming from someone of his status, this insistence for informalities would have made her mother go weak at the knees.
"Ah, forgive me Jameson, I just don't want to overstep myself." Anne put down her paints and sealed them up. She was completely sure she wouldn't achieve much that morning anyways.
"I doubt you could ever, Ms. Anne." He smiled at her. She turned to greet him properly now, curtsying to him. He bowed to her and kissed her hand, this time while making eye contact with her.

Anne began going back and forth in her head, his forwardness was most certainly noted, but how should she respond? Her parents would die of happiness if she pushed forward, but could she want this? Could she truly want this?
Did she have a choice?
"Forgive me for interrupting," Jameson started, "but I was hoping that you might be willing to walk with me to the park. It's a lovely morning, and I have some time to spare before business calls me elsewhere."
There it was. Anne shifted and knew she would have to think reasonably quickly, "I would need my father's permission first."
"I've already asked, and he told me that if you wished to that he would not object." Jameson was analyzing her face, hoping to catch a glimmer of an answer.
She paused only briefly, "then I am more than willing." She smiled, though it didn't touch her eyes.
Jameson held out his arm to her and they walked onwards to the nearby park. They passed by the neighbors window's and she could see the very moment the rumor mill began to turn behind the curtains. Daisy would simply die when she heard the news.
Jameson McNeel, the wealthy businessman extraordinaire, walking arm-in-arm with Anne Trebo, daughter of the man who owns half the shops in town. Perhaps her mother will actually smile at her.
Anne withheld a soft laugh, no... her face would crack if she did. Anne straightened and let the thought pass.

"Can I be a little forward with you, Ms. Anne?" Jameson broke the silence that accompanied them while they walked.
Anne looked at him with big eyes, wondering how much more "forward" someone could be at this point. She nodded gently, unable to say 'no' to him without risking the delicate friendship her father had with this man. So much was riding on her maneuvering this conversation just right.
Jameson looked to the distance, "my wife died two years ago while in labor with child." He looked to the ground and sighed, "the child did not make it either." He spoke with a strange sense of coolness in his voice. "It has been difficult moving forward these past few years, but I am ready to take another wife to fill the void left by my previous wife."
Anne struggled to not frown. "I'm so sorry to hear of your wife's passing." She managed to say gently.
Jameson smiled at her, "thank you for your sympathies."

"You are a very beautiful woman, Anne, and perhaps it is fate that has brought us together." He continued.
Anne was growing uncomfortable very quickly. This wasn't how she imagined being courted to look like. There were no flowers, no poems, no declarations of love or burning promises of happiness. Yes, she could be sensible, but inside her heart was screaming and she very nearly wanted to too.
"Perhaps you might consider-"
"Jameson!" A man called from a few feet away, "my goodness, I didn't even expect to see you in this part of town today!"
Jameson turned and greeted him, the previous conversation already forgotten. Anne felt the world had stepped in at just the right moment. Fate indeed, she thought.

The man's conversation with Jameson was dragging onward, and Anne was clearly not invited into it like when she was walking with her father. She shifted uneasily and then wandered over to look at the trees and dull plants that made up the park. She was calmly trying to piece together the conversation from earlier: becoming Jameson's wife. One walk in the park and suddenly she's wife material? She pursed her lips. She was drawn from her thoughts when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and for the first time since she left the house a genuine smile crossed her features. She would talk to him. She absolutely must.

"Hello." She spoke quietly, unsure of how many other people might hear her speaking to what would appear to be nothing.
Laughter escaped him, the sound was a little unsettling. "First you laugh at the flowers and now you're talking to the trees?!" His voice slid up and down several octaves as he spoke. He leaned precariously off the lamp post, his stare piercing her.
Anne turned hesitantly. Slowly but surely her eyes drifted upwards until they made contact with his. "No, I'm speaking to you." Her voice was incredibly gentle.
It threw him off guard momentarily, but the cheeky grin returned to his face as he hopped down from the lamppost and onto the fence.

"To... ME?" His voice jumped up a level at the word and laughter erupted from his lips. "How..." His voice slid down, "how can you see... me?" He looked at her curiously. "Insanity, perhaps?" He mused, rocking from side to side.
Anne tilted her head to the side as she looked at him. "No, I don't think so." She responded back seriously.
The oddly-dressed man snorted, "then why do you laugh with the flowers? Flowers are very rarely funny things." He twisted and about-faced on the fence, walking the opposite direction and away from her.
Anne smiled wistfully, "it's a little silly but..." She looked around before looking back at him, "flowers tell the best jokes." She gave him a secretive smile.
He scowled at her. "What are the flowers telling you?!" He asked suddenly, looking at her intensely as his voice boomed.
Anne was unphased. "Just jokes." She looked at him with big eyes. "There was one where-"
The man shook his head and held up his hand. "You lie. Flowers have never said a funny thing to me." He looked away and kept moving down the fence.

Anne persisted, "but I don't lie." She shook her head, "flowers do tell jokes, but only the daffodils." She twisted a lock of hair in her fingers as she smiled to herself. "All the other flowers very rarely have nice things to say." She pouted slightly.
The man shrugged and he carried onward.
"The hydrangeas are the worst." Anne had continued, sighing as she spoke, "absolutely rude most of the time."
The man let out a harsh laugh, "ha! They swallow lemons." His voice surged forward.
Anne's eyebrows were knitted together in thought, "that makes sense." She smiled at him softly and she walked a little behind him. "What's your name?"
The man jumped off the fence and looked at her intensely. "MY name?" He squinted at her skeptically.

Anne looked at him easily with a gentle smile, "I'm Anne." She curtseyed to him. "I was hoping you might tell me yours."
He tilted his head, amused. "I have many names, Anne," his voice came out harshly over her name, but she didn't react. This made him more perplexed, but his voice softened, "but you can call me Majnun, if you'd like." He held out his hands in front of him and small fireworks filled the space. "Majnun Keeper the god of Magic and Madness."
Anne stared in wonder at the display. "What a lovely name." She commented sweetly.
Again, Majnun was unprepared for her response. People ran from him; people hid from him; people were disturbed by him... and all were correct in doing so. Yet Anne's reaction was entirely different. It annoyed him. He scowled.
Anne tilted her head at him, "you have a marvelous face. You should let me paint it sometime."
He pulled back and his eyes narrowed, "me? PAINT me?!" He laughed loudly, his face twitching after he stopped.
"Yes. Your face is so unique and you're so colorful..." She paused and shifted, "however I'll need new paints before I could..." She looked at him naively. "Most of mine kind of got destroyed recently."

Majnun felt his mind surge forward, he clenched his fists and they rushed up to his head in a movement far too quick for normal eyes. "Giffle, rain, piercing, silverlight!" He spoke the words like curse words - harsh and pointed, like he had stubbed his toe. He hunched over as the moment passed and he saw Anne had not moved from where she stood; however, concern had filled her eyes and Majnun finally felt a wave of satisfaction at frightening her wash over him.
"Are you alright?" She had leaned closer to him.
No, she shouldn't, she should be stepping back, not towards. Majnun gritted his teeth, but he grinned, "why wouldn't I be? I am the Mad God, after all." He tilted his head, "does that frighten you?"
"No," she shook her head slightly, pausing. "Does it come in bursts?" Concern was still in her eyes.
Majnun clenched his fists and eyed her suspiciously. He debated lying, but he realized that the truth was far scarier than any lie he could think of. "It's constant." His voice was solid, firm, and very sane.
Anne's brow knitted together with pity. Majnun felt himself getting angrier and he stepped back.
"That must be difficult." Anne whispered, taking a step towards him again.
Majnun's scowl deepened, as did his voice to something much raspier and threatening, "I don't need your pity, mortal." He spat.
Anne was unmoved, but she shook her head, "no, I don't mean pity at all."

Majnun made a face of disbelief. "Yes, and my name is Ann Marie." His voice had shifted up an octave. A wicked laugh escaped him, though he didn't find anything funny. He turned and started to walk away.
"Please don't go."
Her voice came out so softly that it stopped Majnun in his tracks. He pursed his lips and turned back towards her, placing a hand on his hip. "What?" He looked at her unamused.
"I'm sorry for offending you." Her eyes shifted downwards toward the stone beneath them. "I just wanted to express understanding, is all."
Majnun's lip twitched up into a scary hollow smile that was not reflected in his eyes. He took a step forward, coming closer to her than she had dared push before. He looked down at her, towering over her as she continued to look down and his smile grew. Now he could sense her hesitation. Now he felt real to her. Fear me, he willed her. He spoke, his voice was firm, quiet and perfectly sane. "You don't understand me." It was spoken like a command.
Anne delicately bit her bottom lip and slowly but surely her eyes raised to meet his. Majnun's face jolted slightly at her boldness before his face fixated in an even angrier look, but she had only grown more comfortable making eye contact with him, and her features had completely relaxed as she looked at him.
"You're in pain."
In a swift movement there was a foot of space between them and Majnun was hunched over, looking like a cat about to hiss at an encroaching enemy. "I am not!" He growled quickly.
Anne's face was still soft, "I see it in your eyes."
Majnun wanted to scream, to whip out his energy and throw her with it. He'd make her cry and plead for mercy as he tortured her. His lip twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he straightened. He would not let her get under his skin - that was what she wanted. He turned his face away from her and a smile pulled at his lips, "I do believe that of the two of us, it is you who is the most mad, Anne." He again, spat her name when he spoke it. With that he turned and vanished into the air, leaving Anne entirely alone.

Anne looked around immediately and her face fell. That wasn't how she imagined that conversation going. She felt a slight twinge of disappointment; what if she never saw him again?
She looked at the flowers next to her, feeling the negativity they gave off and she pursed her lips. "He's right you know, you have swallowed lemons." She sighed at them.
"Ms. Anne!" Jameson's voice called to her as he ran up behind her. "Why did you wander off?"
Anne turned and looked at him, trying to smile again, "I just got distracted looking at the flowers."
Jameson gave her a funny look before realization crossed his face, "forgive me, I forgot that women were pulled by such silly fancies." He shook his head and smiled at her. "You should really not wander off alone. You could be hurt." He lightly scolded.
Anne nodded gently, "I'm sorry that I worried you." Her voice was still soft. She was growing very tired of people telling her how she was supposed to feel about things. She had a brief moment of understanding, perhaps this is why her mother had grown so jaded after all these years? Anne suppressed her thoughts and tried to focus ahead. Women had their places in society and if she played her cards right her place wouldn't be nearly as bad as that of someone who mouthed off to those in charge. She remembered the conversation that Jameson had left her with and realized she would be dragged back to that if she didn't have an exit plan. "I should really be going home soon, it looks like it might rain." She looked up at the cloudy sky. "My paints are still outside, as is my canvas. I would truly hate to waste them."
Jameson looked up and then at his watch, "what good timing, I probably should be getting back to work myself." He nodded to her and offered her his arm for their quiet walk to her home.

Majnun raked his fingers through his hair before falling to his knees and screaming. The sound echoed off the walls of his study.
He clenched his fists. How dare she? She who pretended to know him. That foolish, stupid, annoying woman!
He was breathing hard, his pupils dilated.
She was right.
Why did she have to be right? That stupid woman. He clutched his head to the point where his nails dug into his skin and his eyes were fixated on the ground. He wanted to scream again but he couldn't bring himself to. His nails eventually broke through his skin, sending a sharp pain through him - yet with it came clarity. Why did it have to hurt so much? His face hardened and his hands eased only slightly, becoming flush with his head. His hands grew hot with magic as he healed the damage he had just inflicted.
"You're in pain."
He hissed, how could she see that? How could she see him? See through him?
He sat up when a thought crossed his mind - perhaps he had been going about this entirely wrong.
There are many other ways to seek revenge on someone - to cause pain and suffering.
He smiled wickedly.
He knew exactly what he needed to do.

Anne stood outside the door to her father's office, hesitating before knocking and cracking the door open slightly.
"Who is it?" Her father's voice was cool and unreceptive, as it usually was when he was deep in his work. He was hunched over his desk writing on some paperwork.
Anne bit her lip, "daddy, may I come in?" She briefly wondered if he would send her away and nervousness gripped her stomach.
Her father's head shot up at the sound of her voice and his whole face softened. The tense man huddled over his paperwork melted into the father she always knew. "Hello darling," he greeted her warmly, motioning for her to come in. "Come in, come in." He looked down at the paperwork, though not as firmly as before. "I hear you were invited out for a walk today." He smiled a knowing smile.

Anne nodded quietly, "Mr. McNeel asked if I would walk to the park with him, yes. I was actually hoping to speak with you about that." She couldn't hide the unease in her voice from her father.
She had his full attention now, "is everything alright, dear? Did something happen?" Concern was etched into his features.
Anne shifted, "not exactly." She twisted her hands together, fidgeting - something she rarely did.
"Anne, you're fidgeting. Did Jameson act ill towards you?" His face was growing firmer.
Anne gripped her hands together to stop the fidgeting. "No, daddy... Jameson was very polite." She looked down, "he was also very, very forward. I felt a little uncomfortable." She finally spoke.
"What do you mean 'forward?'" Her father asked slowly.
"He was going to ask me to be his wife." Anne whispered.
Her mother barged in through the door, having been listening to the conversation up to that point. "You said yes, of course?" She looked at her daughter skeptically.
Anne felt completely exposed, this was supposed to be a conversation for her father, not her mother. She swallowed back legitimate fear, "He... he was interrupted before he could ask."
"You should have refocused him on the topic at hand, Anne. Foolish child." Her mother scolded, crossing her arms. "Why didn't you?" Her mother already knew the answer, she just wanted to make Anne squirm.
Anne felt completely defeated, her voice dropped low, "because it all happened so quickly."
Her mother sighed disappointedly. "It usually does. What, did you expect him to have some grand proposal with flowers and a poem he wrote about you? This isn't a book, Anne. You need to wake up." Anne winced at her mother's lecture. She gave the same one every time and it still stung.
"I just thought-"
"Yes?" Her mother raised an eyebrow at her, her lips formed a harsh line.
"-that maybe courtship would look different... less uncomfortable."
Her mother laughed harshly. "Welcome to reality Anne."
Anne had been unable to make eye-contact with either of her parents any longer. Her eyes burned, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. No one listened to her anyways.
Her mother shook her head. "You will agree to his proposal, Anne." Her mother pushed.
Her father put his hands up, "now, now, Victoria." He spoke sternly. "Who Anne marries is between her and I. You're excused." He spoke coolly.
Her mother glared at both of them before turning and leaving the room. Her father stood up from his chair and walked around the desk, putting a protective arm around his daughter as he walked her to the door as well. "Don't let your mother's words cut you too deep, dear. She means well." He put his hand under her chin and brought it her eyes up to his.
Anne gave him a weak smile.
He looked around to see if his wife were still nearby before his voice dropped, "leave Jameson to me. I'll have a talk with him about properly courting and wooing a beautiful lady like yourself."
Anne felt her heart lift a little knowing she hadn't been completely shut out. "Thank you daddy." She whispered back.
Her father nodded, and they parted, each going opposite ways to their own rooms in the house.

Anne sat and stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was basically official now. Jameson's wife. The thought made her feel a little nauseated, and not in a good way. She sighed softly. She was to be someone's replacement. How unromantic it would be. She wouldn't be his wife, she would be his second wife. The wife that replaced the one who died. He made it sound like such a business transaction that Anne felt overwhelmed by the calculations.

A large breeze bashed against her window, yanking it open. The curtains fluttered around and she could feel a change in the air. Without having to even look away from the mirror she already knew: he was there.
She turned and there he sat, lounging in her chair by the window. His face seemed different. He seemed different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on how. He held a different air about him - more confident, cocky even.
"Anne." His voice lingered on her name. It was both a greeting and a statement.

"Mr. Keeper." Anne said quietly as she looked at him. She didn't have the heart in her to apologize or try to resume their previous conversation, though she knew it was the proper thing to do.
"Such formality." His voice was surprisingly level. Perhaps that was what she was sensing. He appeared different because he appeared more sane. His face had hardened, but there was still a level of pain in his eyes that Anne sensed immediately. "Given the circumstances, you should get used to calling me Majnun." He gave her a wild smile, one full of secrets - like he knew something she didn't.
"Circumstances? What circumstances might that be?" Anne's voice was quiet as she tried to mask the general defeat she felt from her entire day.
Majnun's grin only grew wider. "I'm so glad you asked." Laughter exploded from him, and he rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling and then to Anne again.
Anne looked at him curiously and he cleared his throat, his eyes filled with satisfaction.
"You, Anne Trebo, are to be my wife."

[AnnaBeth]

Ooo, loving this backstory! Anne is such a beautiful sim and ohmigosh, baby-faced Majun is adorable! At first I didn't think I'd get into any backstory, but guess what... I've been pulled in.

[LivvieLove]

Anne has sooooo gotten under Majnun's skin!

Hahaha, it's great! He's so angry is palpable. I can't wait until I get to put up the next chapter. It's midterm time so I'm a little bit crunched with studying, so I'm dying a little bit as I want to keep up the momentum.

Ooo, loving this backstory! Anne is such a beautiful sim and ohmigosh, baby-faced Majun is adorable! At first I didn't think I'd get into any backstory, but guess what... I've been pulled in.

Thank you! Anne is so adorable! I take so many pictures of her because she's just so darn cute. Ask poor @mpart, who's been the receiver of all of my spam pictures and gooey stories from getting those pictures. 
I had to get a good picture of Majnun's face in there, since I had done two chapters without it. He's actually pretty handsome in his younger-self. No wrinkles and messy hair looks good on him.
I'm glad to hear you aren't minding the backstory! This one is immensely crucial to the next plotline, so it's almost not a backstory at all, just a part of the story that took place in a different time (it feels to me).

I hope things haven't been too boring or confusing for everyone. I understand going BACK in time isn't necessarily everyone's cup of tea! I'm having such a blast writing it though, so hopefully the enthusiasm shows!

[oshizu]

I had to get a good picture of Majnun's face in there, since I had done two chapters without it. He's actually pretty handsome in his younger-self. No wrinkles and messy hair looks good on him.

@LivvieLove
You have been a tremendous tease--showing us little glimpses of his feet, his elbows, his calves, and so forth.
The facial shot of the young Majnun is really stunning. I don't want a tale about Majnun's life to be a backstory for anyone else. *pouts
He really deserves his own tale! 

I can't wait to hear about the process through which Anne becomes his wife!

[mpart]

Thank you! Anne is so adorable! I take so many pictures of her because she's just so darn cute. Ask poor @mpart, who's been the receiver of all of my spam pictures and gooey stories from getting those pictures. 

She is an adorable sim! I always love knowing what is happening behind the scenes. Great chapter! Was Manjnun disguising as the business man? I can't wait for the next chapter!

[LivvieLove]

Thank you! Anne is so adorable! I take so many pictures of her because she's just so darn cute. Ask poor @mpart, who's been the receiver of all of my spam pictures and gooey stories from getting those pictures. 

She is an adorable sim! I always love knowing what is happening behind the scenes. Great chapter! Was Manjnun disguising as the business man? I can't wait for the next chapter!

mpart! Yay! I'm glad you don't mind! And thank you! I know it's no cyborgs, but Anne's family and Majnun are a lot of fun to write.
Majnun disguising as a business man? Hahaha. He's too flamboyant for that! Anne was just really lucky. Besides, Majnun finds her more of a nuisance. He wouldn't want to help her. He probably liked watching her grow so uncomfortable with Jameson.

I had to get a good picture of Majnun's face in there, since I had done two chapters without it. He's actually pretty handsome in his younger-self. No wrinkles and messy hair looks good on him.

@LivvieLove
You have been a tremendous tease--showing us little glimpses of his feet, his elbows, his calves, and so forth.
The facial shot of the young Majnun is really stunning. I don't want a tale about Majnun's life to be a backstory for anyone else. *pouts
He really deserves his own tale! 

I can't wait to hear about the process through which Anne becomes his wife!

Hahahahaha!
Well if he would make nicer faces then I would GLADLY show you more of his face! Most of the time he's making dopey, goofy faces which completely ruins the mood I'm going for. 
So I decided I'd feel better getting a few good ones of his face, so here's for you, @oshizu, all my failed shots of Majnun/shots that didn't make it in thus far:



This one is him being a dog. Oh Majnun.
I'm trying to tell a story and he's being a dog. A dog!


This man is something else.


See, I liked this face, it's too bad he didn't do it at the right time. 

This one was almost right, but Anne looked too frightened/startled in it, and she's not afraid of him.

Oh, and here's these, because Anne's over here making adorable faces even when they're NOT what I want.

She's just so... so cute.

[oshizu]

I hope you know that I was just kidding you about being a tease! Even though I can't take good screenshots myself, I do appreciate the time and effort that went into those shots offering partial glimpses of the maddening Majnun.

Hahahahaha!
Well if he would make nicer faces then I would GLADLY show you more of his face! Most of the time he's making dopey, goofy faces which completely ruins the mood I'm going for. 
So I decided I'd feel better getting a few good ones of his face, so here's for you, @oshizu, all my failed shots of Majnun/shots that didn't make it in thus far:

Oh noooo! Okay, I understand now why you posted that particularly lovely snap of Majnun and not the others.
Shot #3 of Majnun as Dog is somewhat bewildering (and yet oddly appealing--do I need therapy?)
Shot #5---omg noooo! That goofy smile combined with the yellow ribbon bow. I see what you mean about his undermining the mood you were creating. hahaha
And compared with Shots #7 and 8, I greatly prefer the single shot you featured in your chapter.

I'm really surprised by the goofy expressions since he always looked so stern in your earlier chapters.  And there I go with my assumptions again...
Thank you for sharing your Majnun bloopers! I like him more and more as a character...