A Path to Gold: The Alchimia Immortal Dynasty (Latest Update: 12/9/14)

[Deme]

Ok, so I think a status update is in order. My buffer's still not the size I'd like it to be: I went abroad for a while, so my time to play (and write) was reduced. I do, however, have enough material for a chapter, so expect one in the next couple of days.

Glad to be back... Now... To catch up on all the other dynasties I've been missing.

[RainBeau]

Looking forward to it!

[Deme]

Part 16: Relief

^{From the journal of Ferrus Alchimia}

Contemplating myself like this…My father’s chainsaw chipping things away from a figure that is ultimately myself. It’s amazing, having things emerge from other things, taking one thing and pulling parts of it away and – ah, like a dream – there’s been something underneath the whole time. Neither of them was what they seemed to begin with.
I know I may not be much – I can see that in the sculptures -- but I’d like to try and make things like that. I hope I can manage.

Mom is saying I need to pick a property and a business in town, and buy them – in my own name… Why, exactly? Are we intending to be robber barons, now? Well, I guess having some investments won’t hurt; it’ll make sure I always have money, anyhow. So I bought the local bistro…

And the beach. Most of these things are things I think Diane would like, actually. I don’t really picture myself using a fire pit or a juice keg…But Diane has people that like her, and she may want to throw more parties. Or hold protests by the shore. So I thought about what she would want, and what she’d want the people around her to want.
Except, um, for the hot air balloon. That’s mine. Well, it’s all “mine,” but that’s, you know, for me. I don’t really ask for much, right? So I was thinking…Maybe…I could fly above the town and watch.
That’s not too much bother, right? 


Anyway, Mom decided to teach me to drive, which was…A bit of a surprise. I mean, it’s the full moon. Who knows what could be out there, huh? Is she crazy?
…Not to mention, she’s always worrying about zombies during the full moon. Doing research, you know…Mom stuff (well, my mom stuff. I know most moms aren’t like this. I’d say ‘let me pretend,’ but…I’m not very good at pretending. How about some denial? Just a little?)
For just a moment, I wonder if maybe she likes me as much as her research, and then I feel terrible for having had the thought that she didn’t without realizing it. She may not be the most with-it person, and I may not be the ideal son... But I do believe she loves me more than anything.
I think that’s what I believe, anyway.
If Ferrus were himself less prone to introspection, I’d have had a lovely time questioning the nature of belief, and you would think I was rather clever. Instead, I’m just extending his own thoughts, which is much less smart. Thaaanks.
So, what I was going to say…Is how do we know what we really believe? I’ve never been a man of absolute, burning certainty. I envy Aurum, in that respect. I believe what I say I believe… But, like Ferrus, I can’t be sure. Maybe I’m just telling myself I believe it because I want to. In a situation of pressure, a person is more likely to do what they think is expected of them than what they think is correct – there have been a number of experiments to that end. We create our own pressures to be a certain way. Beliefs may well be that way, too.

This is the sort of question I think Ferrus only ever half-articulated, but thought much about. Of the early residents of the Alchimia house, he’s one who hits my sympathies the strongest. His feelings, or mine, may not be terribly relevant to someone simply looking for a family record, or for an understanding of the path that was taken to try and reach immortality.
…I’ll linger on them, all the same. Perhaps that is the path to immortality, hidden in his clumsy worries. That would show my “patrons,” wouldn’t it?


”Now, you are to kick the broom into its highest speed by adjusting your thoughts so that you are the wind. I recommend a levanter, given the scenery; I find it helps. A levanter, of course, being…”
I am pretty sure learning to drive is…Normally done with a car. I mean, a broom is kind of frail, and there’s nothing there preventing you from getting into an accident, right? No seatbelts or anything.
“What if I fall off?”
”Merely focus your will.”
“But what if I get distracted?” That happens, you know! That happens a lot!
”…For this, there are always bandages. I keep a box.”
“…So you fall off the broom sometimes?”
”Sometimes, an idea calls and will not be swayed away. I’d be interested in seeing your rate of physical recovery, anyway.”
That started out comforting, at least. That’s something, right?
For the record, there is in fact some documentation from Aurum dating from sometime after this period using various scrapes and accidents of herself, Ferrus, and Diane and their respective recovery times. She and Ferrus seemed to recover slightly faster, but given the methodology, the margin of error was large enough to make the results inconclusive at best.
Ferrus’s feelings concerning his mother’s activities undoubtably creep towards paranoia…But never fully reach it, because they’re usually right. It’s not paranoia if everyone’s out to get you, right?


Diane led a small crusade against the curfew this evening.

Of course, she did it in the house. Because of the curfew.
I’m not sure she appreciated the irony.


I’ve taken up sculpting. I feel like it’s always been waiting for me. I still goof up too much – my lines aren’t smooth enough, and a lot of the time, my chisel scrapes something it really shouldn’t! But it’s satisfying to work with. Everyone says I’ve got my head in the clouds…That may be true, but I like the tactile-ness of sculpting. I guess I like my castle in the clouds to have a good foundation.


So. Diane’s taken my remodel of the beach as a signal. A signal she should invite…
Every…
Last…
Solitary…
Teenager from school for a bonfire party at the beach.

…And  I’m invited, too.
”Come on, Ferrus! I want a prom date! Don’t you want a prom date? This is the best place to find one! Everyone’ll be in…Swimsuits.”
I imagine a suggestive eyebrow waggle, but Ferrus is mum on that.
“…The only other girl at the party is my sister.”
”Ok, bad example. But I want you to come! It’ll be fun! I want you to have fun! Why else decorate a whole beach for parties?”
I sigh.
“Alright…I’ll go. But…I want us to do something *I* find fun sometime.”
”Like?”
“…I’ll think about it.”
She sighs.


We go straight to the beach after school to set up.
”Have you thought about where we should go sometime?”
“…Art museum?” It’s out, so it’ll count as doing something… And it’ll be quiet. Besides, they’re doing this absolutely exquisite display of Ancient East Indian art I’ve been wanting to see.
”Oh, yeah! That’d be great!”

We at least got to talk for a while on our own before everyone came. I did find someone to talk to, at least, you know, a little.

My own sister, Sheila.
Since we’re both artists, talking to Sheila isn’t hard. It’s strange – Dad had no interest in art when he was our age, but both of us ended up this way. We weren’t raised alike. I wonder, then…Is there a destiny to genetics, after all?


Diane’s surrounded by boys. They’re all older boys, though, so I guess her prom plans fell through. Poor Diane – I bet she was hoping that they’d be closer to our age, and they’d have fun. Still…She at least got to have a lot of fun dancing.



I tended the fire, looking over my shoulder to watch her dance. She may not be beautiful in an ordinary way – no statuesque stunner, but… All the same… She’s a beautiful dancer, her hair forming wild shapes in the firelight. I’m glad I put that dance floor there. I’m glad she can have fun and dance here. I’m OK, even if I’m just watching.
Mostly.


I leave before curfew…Diane stayed behind. I’m hoping maybe she’ll think of a way out of trouble.
To be honest, I’m not sure ‘oh, curfew’ even occurred to her. Her plan seems wildly improvisational.



Everyone here, it feels like, is brought somewhere better by loving someone else. Even Mom, and especially Dad. I don’t know how to find a person like that. Diane has the power to look for someone…  That’s power beyond my imagining.


That power Diane has…I can’t stop thinking about it. Imagining her laughing with people…Flirting, flicking her hair away from her face…

Giggling, not her real laugh, but that little breathy giggle she uses on everyone else… It’s stuck in my head. I can’t seem to escape thinking about it.
Oh, to be young and neurotic. And kind of thick about certain matters…But that’s almost included in the whole “young” thing.

Agh! The best I can do is think about other things. Right now, I think I’d rather focus myself on what I can make. What I can learn. If you make something precious, then that makes something precious a part of you. If I make something amazing… Maybe I can be an amazing person. Just a little bit.

A Renaissance Sim.


True to her scheming, Darleen stayed out so late no one even noticed she was breaking curfew – “I mean, I came back during the day, right?”
“…Does curfew work that way?”
”Shhh! It does if the man doesn’t catch on!”

Anyway, we spend a good chunk of Saturday painting and sculpting.

“What are you painting?”
”A treatise against the inherently stifling view of the superiority of extroversion as an expectation and the crushing expectations of masculinity-as-power, and its relation to beauty.”
“Do you mean that, or are you just talking it up?”
”I can be doing both. Right now, let’s keep it vague, OK <3?”
“…Wait. You’re an extrovert. You like extroversion. You think I Should be an extrovert.”
”…And? It’s…Maybe a little stifling, that’s all. I mean, I want it for you because I think you’d be happier, not because you’re better for being more outgoing.”
“…Did something happen?”
”Eh, it’s nothing.”

”At the party, I just sort of realized…That there’s stuff I can’t talk about with anyone else. I’ll make the world see what I mean – but you’re the person I don’t need to educate.” She smiled. ”Oh, I guess except about having fun. Good job not narcing on me, by the way.”
“…I try.”
Anyway, prom’s just around the corner. I wonder what she’ll do?

[Shewolf13]

Awww!  I swear, Ferrus just gets more adorable each update!  Ferrus, go for Diane!  You can do eet!  Go for it!  Wonderful update Deme ^^

[RainBeau]

Boys are so thick. When is he going to realise he likes Diane? Sigh. Still, I'm glad you're writing it realistically. And it's different from other relationships you've written before as well. So I won't complain. I liked that whole thing.

[redmare]

Awwww
I so ship Derrus.
How's Stan?

[Deme]

Awww!  I swear, Ferrus just gets more adorable each update!  Ferrus, go for Diane!  You can do eet!  Go for it!  Wonderful update Deme ^^

Thank you. Isn't he just cheek-pinchingly adorable?

Boys are so thick. When is he going to realise he likes Diane? Sigh. Still, I'm glad you're writing it realistically. And it's different from other relationships you've written before as well. So I won't complain. I liked that whole thing.

The thickness is part of the adorable.
You were going to complain? Whoo, high pressure. I'll have to keep watch over the rest of the series. That said...I like their dynamic. It's interesting to write -- they're so close they have trouble realizing how close they are.

Awwww
I so ship Derrus.
How's Stan?

So does my game. Oddly enough, it's thrown my planning into disarray.
Stan is good. Doing Stan things. He's done learning stuff, so now he just goofs around in the nursery all day. In that sense, he's a lot like the adults: nothing special's going on.

[RainBeau]

Nah, not complain really, just get mad at Ferrus for being thick. That's all. No worries.

[Deme]

Ah, I decoded the grammar incorrectly.

Anyway, this was feeling like a lot of text for a few screenshots, which reads densely to me... And the full set of material I had set for the chapter would have made it more so, due to prom. So I'm breaking this up a bit for you guys! This also means you get this early!

Part 17-1: Chiaroscuro

 I’ve been told my accounts of Aurum’s continuing studies have been rather lacking lately; however, I maintain they hold little interest to our narrative. Well, perhaps I can satisfy all my audiences by taking a momentary pause to note Aurum’s current progress, which would one day show itself in our story:

Aurum began taking DNA samples from plants and animals (and minerals. I’m afraid I do not actually understand how that’s possible, but then again, Aurum herself is basically a mineral-animal, so perhaps there’s an alchemical secret to it she just considered so natural she didn’t write it down) and doing trials in analyzing them. Her files and folders become a series of double-helixes, carefully mapped and full of obscure symbols, slipping into a private code.
One thing, however, is clear. Her objective: something between self-understanding and cloning.
If Ferrus heard about it, it would have been enough to make him shake. Rather, he was already shaking, as his mother’s laughter filled the house in time with the whirring of the machine.  She was very happy. Life was going well, and she was ready.
Of course, he had other things to concern himself with…

^{From the Journal of Ferrus Alchimia}

I saw the painting she was doing today. The one about beauty and all that?
”It needs some work. There’s something in the contours of your cheek I can’t quite get… Don’t worry. If I can’t get it juuust so, I’ll just have you model for me! It’ll work perfectly!”

It’s really very flattering. I don’t know what to think; of course she meant what she said, but what does that mean?
These may have been the world’s densest teenagers. I do not even know how.
Well, anyway, it’s a lovely portrait. And Mom’s been fussing over how Uncle Darren’s not been satisfied with the portraits of me she wants him to paint, too, so it relieves a lot of tension here. She must have known that it was bothering me.
I want to do something for her, too….A sculpture, one day? My ice just melts. While there is something about her that feels very transient…I feel like that’s why I’d not want to see it melt. The truth I want to show about her may not be transient enough for ice.

That night, she pulled him outside. Ferrus has some things to say about this, but I feel that Diane’s understanding of things is important, too.

What she understood was this: it was the last night of summer, and she wasn’t a kid anymore. She’d been hanging onto the fireworks for years, not allowed (in a way she could not subvert, to her endless frustration) to set them off. So the summer was going to go out with a bang.

So, then, why tonight? Why not last night, when there’d be lots of people to watch? That was difficult to articulate, but I’ll take a swing at it: because last night, there were tons of people to watch. Tonight, it was just her and Ferrus, the way it’d always been.

She wanted to watch his face light up from the sparks. She wanted to see something beautiful and ephemeral in his eyes. He was always so soft, so safe. Comforting and kind of annoying, because he was always ssooooo soft, sooooo safe.

Pfft. Always screaming.  Screaming over every little thing, like moons and safety and how flammable her hair was. Kiddie stuff.
But if there was something beautiful, she wanted him to see it. And maybe to see him panic just a little, first. Because that was just so head-shakingly cute, she had to admit.
It never occurred to her not to think of those feelings, all filling her at once, as feelings of love. Because that was how she’d always felt.


She only thought of him watching the lights bouncing and cascading around her face. She wrote her name in smoke and watched it vanish.

I maybe panicked, a lot…But it was a perfect end to summer.

After that…

Diane learned to drive. Her dad, the road, that raccoon, the squad of policemen, At least 3 mailboxes… It was a harrowing experience for everybody.  I’ll be on my broom when we’re going somewhere. Or the teleporter – we have a teleporter. Is that odd? I used to think those things were deathtraps… But I re-evaluated.


My sculpting’s been going really, really well. I’m still not working with that special ice my mom cooked up (froze up?) ..But I think I understand a lot about shapes, and forms, and materials. I think I get what it is that makes ice appealing to work with people – don’t you want to see people transparent? Oh, I’m just mumbling now. Anyway.  I got a certificate saying I mastered it…But I think they’re mistaken. I’ve got an awfully long way to go.

Dad’s been sort of at loose ends – I think all the adults have, except maybe Mom (and Mom’s only the exception because she ties up her ends tight, tight, into one continuous ribbon of activity)…Maybe that’s why he’s playing life dangerous and...Eating Jellybeans! Is he crazy? You can die that way!



And then he came home yellow as Mom and I! I nearly fainted!
Mom was…excited? No, intrigued is more like it.
 She immediately went and scraped off some of Dad’s skin so she could look at it under a microscope. She had Dad hooked up to a lot of complicated machinery that went boop. Dad was calm about it,
”I got her into a bathing suit, so I guess turnabout’s fair play – she’s got me in electrodes!”
…I think he may have been enjoying it. Spooky. Still, I…Hung around. Because I guessed what Mom was looking at  -- was he like her? Was he like us? I don’t know what ‘like us’ is. Just that there’s…something. A way I feel the temperature, a way I hear sounds Diane can’t, a way I think…
What sort of person did you bring into the world, Mom? What sort person are you? Peering over her data, she shakes her head.
“…I see. So a simple transformative simply produces a change in pigmentation. It’s fundamentally still a human structure. ”
“Wait, so what sort of structure were you looking for?”
”Like any alchemist, I look only for gold. In gold, there is everything. In everything, the potentiality for Gold.”
I know from her lessons that Gold isn’t just gold – in its brightest, purest form…It’s perfection. Seeking perfection endlessly – that’s something we agree on whole-heartedly.
“…Gold? In a person?” I’m not sure I get it, though. How could you see perfection in a microscope? What would suddenly being yellow have to...Unless she means… “Is this about,” I don’t know how to word it. I don’t want us, but I don’t want to leave her alone. “Us?”
She nods.
“ I am no mere imposter, no trick of melanin. But there’s a lot about myself I am currently still unaware. I tell you this as my son, who exists between your father and myself…
Very soon now, I intend to reveal it: which are you? I apologize sincerely for the delay in this matter. I know how you like certainty.”

I felt dazed...And terrified. I’ve thought about what I was, but never…In those terms. A person made of gold? How would – oh, nevermind. I’m not a scientist.
What would happen if I was like her? If I wasn’t? Would I still matter to her? What… Agh! I can’t take it anymore.

How about some simpler family time?

“Solidarity, little brother. Solidarity.”
He is really a sweet kid. And he doesn’t terrify me or give me headaches. For now, anyway. Thank goodness for a sweet little brother like that.

[Tilia]

Oh goodness that is a cute picture!  Those big brown eyes are just heart melting.

[Wolfie585]

I'm loving your dynasty! Your writing style is amazing.

[Shewolf13]

Awwwww!  Beautiful chapter Deme!  Simply beautiful!  Also... I love that Diane's driving experience actually made Farrus a little braver... if only because it scared him more than anything else XD

[Deme]

Thank you, thank you. And now...the second half!

Part 17-2: Venus

Mom won an award today. For her ghost-hunting. No one knows more about the paranormal than my mother, I think. Heebie-jeebie things. You know, says the witch who may be made out of gold or something. Maybe I’m not a twisted version of a normal person; maybe I’m a twisted-up bit of supernatural nonsense…

Oh, no. I’m rambling. The award.

”For your supreme knowledge in all things spooky and graveyard-like, here’s a little model graveyard.”
“My knowledge is not at all rooted in an interest in graveyards, but rather in a natural curiosity of the etheric state of the soul in a post-mortem environment, and its properties. Also… Why would one build a tiny model graveyard as an award? Isn’t it rather inconvenient and obscure?
…Also, it is lacking in little model ghosts.”
That was her speech, accepting that award. She’s right, though; a few ghosts might really add some color… Either way, it all ended up in the portrait room.


The morning of prom, Diane invited over a boy. Which is a ball of anxiety right there for me. Particularly since…Oh, nevermind.
If Ferrus won’t say it, I will. Recall the young man who left Diane’s party when they were children, after having Ferrus’s general attempt at conversation? This is that same boy, now sans silly hat. Diane wanted to have fun with people; perhaps that was why she invited back the person who left her house in a bad mood before.

They talked pretty easily…But Diane seemed to rule him out as a partner in flirtation quickly…

(”That fish was not biting. That fish was not interested in biting. That fish was never going to bite a hook in its life. In other words, we have found a guy who’s the world’s most boring person. I was right the first time.” Was what she said later.)

But not about art. I guess…I’m not the only person she can talk to about that. When that realization hit me… I felt something, and it only grew as the day went on.


But I was sad when he wouldn’t be her date to prom – for all her effort, she’s as dateless as little, unpopular old me. Except she really wanted someone to go with – someone’s eyes to look into as she scooped him or her away from his/her punch and onto the dance floor, someone to kiss gently on the cheek at the end of the night… That sort of fantasy, with love but without attachement, with a fun, honest feeling, beholden to no one, bound by nothing…


It’s so very her.
It was a good distraction, though.


I’m nervous. I feel like it’ll meet with a disaster. They’ll dump blood on me or something – like Carrie, but without the psychic powers or the insane revenge. Or maybe pineapple juice, for the color mockery.
Or they could just punch me into a locker. You know. The normal.

I can’t stop thinking about how dumb this whole prom thing is…

But as I watch her step into the night she’s been looking forward to…I remember what I thought earlier.

I felt like she was going to go somewhere far away.
I mean, of course she was. Is. Will. You know.
She’s bold and fearless and wants to take on the world. No one can hold her back – someone like that doesn’t belong in a town like Lucky Palms. She needs to fight the fight in the capitol, or turn the world upside-down in some hip coastal town… She needs to scream defiance at the end of the earth, or help fight some little battle of the soul in a far-off country.

I’ve never really thought that I might wake up in the morning and she won’t be down the hall. That in her life, I’m just a momentary figure – um, maybe an important one, like her parents or something, but… One that she’ll leave to shadows, one of these days. One she’ll grow past and move on from.

A small addition, before the text relating to the prom itself begins.

Neon Dreamer aged up into an older dog. I’m not sure anyone noticed the difference, to be honest – even Neon’s fur was the same color as ever.


I found a corner with a table that no one was using, and had a glass of punch. No one talked to me, but no one bothered me, either. I could watch everything.

Diane tore up the dance floor, carelessly. It was a little sad, though – the person she asked to dance with her shot her down. For all her desire…She’s really not very lucky in love.
So then….All of the sudden…
”Ferrus. That punch is lukewarm. You’ve been nursing it all night.”
“…I like my punch.”
”Come on! No one here wants some fun with a girl in a suit (jerks). Dance with me!”
I fiddled. I dithered.
”Daaance! Please, Ferrus? Just….Just this once? You’ve never danced before.”
“…Alright. You need a partner, right?”
”You know it! Besides…I look better in a suit than you.”

She took me by the hand and pulled me out onto the floor. You know what? It turns out, I can dance OK. I dipped her. She dipped me. We took turns leading, since there was no way she was going to put up with being the follower, the passive partner, on the grounds she was a girl.
Fine by me.

Swirling across the dance floor, all eyes on us. The dance slows. I paused, and she took my hand and guided it to the small of her back. Looking in her eyes, seeing how warm and confident and fierce they are…The closeness of her breath, her face like the moon… Her steps, drowning out the music. Her hand in my hand, warm as the sun.

I realized something. I’m sad when I think about her with other people, when I see that there’s someone who could take my place. When I realize that she could leave, and I would be just temporary to her.
Because no matter what, what she is to me…She isn’t like a sibling (or, well, I guess, I don’t want her to be). She isn’t just a best friend. She’s an unstoppable, irresistible force, and she’s more than that, too.
She is my first love, blossoming there on the dance floor.

The music’s stopped, but we’re still holding each other. Her face is very surprised – actually, it looks the way my face does. I want to say something, but…I can’t find the words. I’m sure she would have rejected me, anyway.

Someone’s on stage with a microphone. They announce prom queen, breaking whatever I was about to say. It’s Diane. Of course it is – even if no one’ll dance with her, everyone likes her.

She lets go of me and walks up to the stage, shaking her head and laughing. She thinks the whole prom queen thing is dumb (I agree, but for different reasons). Her jewelry sparkles. I retreat back to my corner and I watch her take the whole affair, crown and flowers and the adulation…And then toss it away, out into the crowd. I’ll pick it up for her later, I think. But for now, I just watch the light hitting her face.

The queen of the dance floor, who will never be truly mine.

There are other accounts of that night, and the official record assembled by the Prom Committee mentions an odd element. However, no other record describes it in more detail.


It seems, somehow, everyone forgot to mention the incident with the Llama.

[Shewolf13]

Awwww!  Ferrous, you're breakin my heart!  Argh!  *sends courage to Ferrous*  Go for it!  Make her yours!

[karlissa]

I think the 2nd/3rd generations skill will be science (because the founder suddenly stops)