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

[Deme]

Ha, ha, sorry, Trip! Well, now I'll be competing against you, though it's not like it's a race. I certainly have a lot of things to read!

Anyway, I'm glad to be back. I'm feeling much better -- it took a lot of doctor's visits to get me to a place where I have a reasonable energy level and freedom from headaches (well, big headaches), but we got there!

I'm looking forward to Stannum's role in the big scheme as well. I'm not sure how extreme I'll go -- I'm pretty lazy, so probably not very, ha ha...

[redmare]

Sweet sunset boo!!! I can't wait to see her age up!

[MarianT]

Deme, it's great to have you back! I've missed reading your updates. Venus is a gorgeous copper color; can't wait to see her grow up.

[RaiaDraconis]

I'm so glad to see this story back and that you are feeling well enough to write and sim again. Best wishes for continued recovery!

[Deme]

Sweet sunset boo!!! I can't wait to see her age up!

I'm looking forward to it, too! I almost got to her childhood in a playsession last night, but things sort of came up. Lots of things. She has a busy toddlerhood.

Deme, it's great to have you back! I've missed reading your updates. Venus is a gorgeous copper color; can't wait to see her grow up.

You know, all the comparing her to copper (or sunsets, which is also a lovely comparison I'm saving up) reminds me: the metal associated with Venus in Alchemic terms (and Astrology, though that's less common to see) is actually copper, so she's a very fitting sim to bear the name. I'm sure Aurum will have comments on that once she's done some further research -- she doesn't want to rush into judgement based on mere appearances, after all, and she's not yet gotten concrete answers as to "So, what exactly is Ferrus made of?" yet.

I'm so glad to see this story back and that you are feeling well enough to write and sim again. Best wishes for continued recovery!

I'm glad to be back! Gee, when you say it, it sounds kind of much more apocalyptic then it was ^.^; ... Anyway, thanks for the well-wishes!

Sacred And Profane Love, Part 2 of 2
_{From the Personal Journal of Ferrus Alchimia}


To my relief, I managed to get through teaching her to walk without any psyche-destroying disaster happening! I will give myself praise as a father… But, maybe more relevantly, praise to her incredibly fierce little grip.

Not a morning passes that we don’t know what Venus wants, delivered in the form of crying coming from her room.
”Well, of course! She’s just like her mom!” Diane insists, striking a “Rosie the Riveter” pose that makes me want to go to the easel and make a series of retro pin-ups. ”If you want something, shout! If you need something, tear the world down to get it, right, honey?”
Venus claps – I guess she really does take after her mother more than me. I can’t help but think that that’s a good thing.

In news outside of our baby-infested world, my brother’s graduation was today.

He manages to make it to Valedictorian, to my mother’s immense, if understated pride (“This accomplishment is exceptionally satisfactory, and a fine testament both to my efforts in instilling a further education upon him – though, regrettably, neither of my boys are logical thinkers – and his efforts as a student” Was Aurum’s note, which is less understated than it might have appeared in person.), and most popular, to my father’s smack-on-the-back satisfaction. I kind of envy him – not for the awards, I mean, but that he actually got to attend High School for most of his High School life. It’s a wonder what you can accomplish when you really go to school! I mean, popular!

…Yeah, that’s sure popular.


To celebrate his graduation, I finally finished our little interior courtyard! That needed doing for quite a while. I also did some updates to his bedroom (not shown)…

And some to Venus’s, for when she matures more. Inspiration just…struck. A feeling, like… Yes, this will be a room to suit her, one day. That’s not a very good explanation, but it’s the one I had. It’s the sort of feeling you get when you’re deep in a sculpture, and you understand that your chisel needs to go here as opposed to there, this way, not that: you know the shape in your head, but the individual movements flow out of you from some hidden place.


Since Diane can’t actually go to her job, she just straight-up quit; it was just an offer she’d received and taken, almost casually, and it didn’t really mean much.
”I’ll try something different; maybe I’ll go into music, like Mom.”
Darleen’s delighted squeal was nearly ear-shattering.
“ Ooh, ooh, we can do a duet! Like a family show! With matching costumes! It’ll be so cute! Every day will be take your daughter to work day!” Darleen’s arms ensnared Diane in a floral-scented haze. She may have been an old woman, but her arms were like a vice. All Diane could do was wilt, with a fond smile, in the face of such a squeeze.
“…Uuuuhhh…yeah…. Sure, Mom. Sure.”
They went to a late lunch– or whatever meal this was for both of them, since meals in our family have kind of a loose quality – chatting about work in the music industry, or whatever. Even Darren was there, making this a rare Dreamer family meal – he didn’t have much to say about music, but he was at least encouraging of his daughter’s sudden change of careers.

”Darleen, we should go out after this.” He said, in a lull in the conversation.
”Oh yeah?” Darleen jiggled in her seat, her toes beating a high tempo beat on the floors. ”Where we going, Honeybear?”
”Doesn’t really matter. With you, it’d all be perfect. The museum? Dancing?” She laughed at this last suggestion, at their age.
”Well, you can still dance; I don’t think I ever could, bad knee or no bad knee,” He admitted. ”But whatever makes you happy, that’s what we’ll go do.”
”The garden, then. Let’s just go out to the botanical garden, and see the flowers,” She said over her shoulder. Her dish clinked into the dishwasher, drowning out a fond sigh from her long-suffering husband. ”It’s a promise.”


Now, I wasn’t there for this. I was…I don’t even remember. I think getting some sort of award for my interiors. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t matter.
I’m just writing what I was told, but…I want to believe that promise. I wish they did. I wish they could have had that. But…

At least he wasn’t alone.


Then again, maybe it would have been better on his wife and daughter if he had been – I don’t know. Maybe, really, it makes every difference, and no difference – it’s all hues of the same color.

Diane said he almost seemed dazed, until the Grim Reaper was standing before him, and gesturing to the waiting urn… She didn’t understand what was really happening, or see it clearly through a fog of tears.

Years later, through different tears, she’d recall it:

Her father had begged. He’d sunk his knees into the yellow kitchen tile, not yet used to being free of his flesh, and how little things like linoleum mean in the world beyond, and begged.
“Please, just a little more time! Just – just a few more days – just a few hours. Just a minute!  Just… one more moment…”
”More? You want more? Did I not tell you, Darren Dreamer?” It intoned from somewhere deep and cold in the cavernous, limitless depths of its hood. Death bears many faces – this is a surprise to no one. Today, it felt like a premature autumn wind, like a gust of cold air cutting a hot summer day to ribbons. ”You would kneel before me and ask for more? After all you dared to do? After all you dared risk?” His words felt like spit hail.
With a wave of his hand, striking nothing but the empty silence where Darren dreamer might have been – used to be – the room was cleared of all lingering spirits. Left emptied and hollowed.

And the Grim Reaper said something to himself, very low and quiet – or to Darren Dreamer, if perchance he lingered invisibly in the air. To the histories we kill every time we take an action – every time we seize a dream.
”And is this not…The outcome you desired? Hand in hand, brought to your old age…
 
With your woman by your side?”

It would be a long time until anyone clearly understood what Darren Dreamer had done, in following Aurum into her house, in bringing Darleen with him. He’d fought the path of least resistance, a path that ended with a house in flames, a wife dead: he’d fought the path of lost loves and a widower’s life. And he’d won, which is in many ways more than many of the Alchimias would ever be able to say.
But the Grim Reaper always knows what dies, for exactly what he is.


Darren Dreamer, passed on age 90 or 91 – it may have been his time, but just barely so. Without him, much of the beginning of the dynasty – the Ambrosia, Aurum’s own portraits, and more, in the name of friendship and support, in Diane and Darleen’s presence – would not have been, if not impossible, then much more difficult. Regardless of whatever gains Darren himself might have made of the exchange, the Alchimia family would owe him a debt until the end of their days – a debt that Aurum would not allow anyone, even me, to forget.

And so, having come to the end of his chapter in my own work, I will say: Thank you. I hope you found us worth helping, for your efforts – and the future you made worth changing, as you deserved… But I find no better eulogy than Darleen’s, for she knew – I think you’ll have to forgive me my sentiment – as well as Death did, in her own way, as well as I do, from my lofty peak atop History – no, better than both of us – what was lost that day to the world of the living.

She knew a sweet, warm man, with stories on his lips and bits of paint on his fingers. She knew a man who she would dig his heels into the ground any time he was threatened by the presence of sunlight, but – half sincere, and half-teasing, would accept being dragged out to see the flowers by both paint-smeared hands. A man who’d come out to the desert to see the sunsets from behind a glass pane – and have a safe excuse to always be somewhere shady and air-conditioned.


Staggering with the loss of such a man, she wandered out into the rain, keening the way the widows of an ancient world might. And Darleen walked, tears in her eyes, to the place where he’d proposed, and to the spot where they’d wed.


 The restaurant – their restaurant – overlooking the water and the sunset. Today, the balcony was empty. The sun was setting, and the rain was falling around and her steps splashed against the sticky desert mud. But that night – that night! The moon had been high and full of possibility, shedding a near-green light.
There had been a random zombie, staggering around during their vows -- and she loved and remembered that.

 “I’ll love and remember it all.  Thank you… Goodbye, goodbye, thank you… For being my Dream.”

[Shewolf13]

Oh that was so sad!  Yet so beautiful at the same time.  I have tears in my eyes.  Brava Deme!  That was wonderful and heartwrenching!

[Fuzzle]

This dynasty is back! Huzzah!

I can't wait to read more. I've been missing this since you disappeared off the face of the earth. =p

[Deme]

Oh that was so sad!  Yet so beautiful at the same time.  I have tears in my eyes.  Brava Deme!  That was wonderful and heartwrenching!

Thank you, thank you; I'm glad you enjoyed it.

This dynasty is back! Huzzah!

I can't wait to read more. I've been missing this since you disappeared off the face of the earth. =p

It's a great comfort to know I've been missed. ^^

Nigredo
_{From the personal records of Aurum Alchimia}


When all others had departed, I made my entry into the kitchen to make some declaration – to make some collection of data, that he might be known and classified and understood – of this angel of death. My previous notes had been insufficient. I am not yet sure what sufficient notes on the Grim Reaper would look like. Like many of my goals, they are abstract objectives to be reached via concrete means.
”Lady Alchimia. The work you have done with your fish is… Most intriguing.”[/i]
He commented, as if he had a chance for light conversation. That he knew about the fish was initially a surprise – but it is only rational. Fish die; why would Death give no regard to the deaths of fish? Because they are small, and their lives are brief? Was it not as he said? “Everyone gets a lifetime.”
I pondered this at the time, in light of recent events. My eyes may have been red – but there are things you must put aside when there is science to do.
“You addressed that comment to me…Though I can’t say I understand it.” After all, a “lifetime” is subjective – and no two subjective things are the same, even to the same observer.
”It is no grave secret. The scope of a life is the same, no matter how many days or hours it may take – the life of a fish is equal to your own hard-bought eternity, when they are done.  That is the law of relativity of life, if you were to catalog it.”[/i] He seemed as humorless as I, in this matter, the final words not coming as a human-sounding joke, as they might have seemed – even now, staring at the page, they look unlike what he said, which was… Something weighty and portentious. It felt like a warning.
“But you also addressed it to Darren. What was your intention then? Did you know?”
He looked at me, and the darkness of his hood seemed an empty world, the blackness of infinite vacuum, even under the cool moonlight that suffused the bright, warm kitchen. He said nothing, and was gone.


So, data on The Grim Reaper: Talkative, for a specter. Aware beyond physical presence (the fish thing), or possibly present beyond physical presence. Or physical presence means something completely different to him. Insufficient data. He rejects light – the underside of his hood is not shadow, as far as I can grasp. The kitchen is quite bright, unlike the sight of our last encounter – as such, we can discount that he is being hidden by mere trick of radiance and shade. The true nature of his concealment? Insufficient data. I will attempt to replicate the effect with certain alchemic principles – it certainly cannot be done with mere chemistry or base physics. Some sort of anti-light?
Possibly, he knows about all of this – he knows exactly when all who will die will die. Possibly, the whole notion of time is meaningless to him, who needs no face to be seen, who needs only hands to grip the scythe. Possibly, sometimes – just sometimes – he sees fit to prepare our spirits for this. I cannot divine his purpose without further information.

A more personal note:

I miss seeing my friend smile. The grief strikes her, perhaps even more than the rest of us. She goes through the laundry, and at the end weeps, because nothing in the load is his, and that must mean he’s really dead.
I suppose to an outside person, she’d laugh the same as she always does – and when I approach her, having heard this, she smiles – as she always does. But her smile is weak and empty, and her eyes are red.
“…Please, do not worry about the household. I will attend to matters. You go have fun,” I insist.
”Aw, aren’t you a sweetheart, Aury. Alrighty, then… I…know just what’ll perk me up!” For a moment her resolve faltered, but she rushed into the art room and pulled her daughter out – I do not think Diane protested as much as she usually would.

And so the two chief grievers find solace in playing a game of tag with one another on a festive summer day.


Ferrus, in his further study of different mediums, has moved on to one that speaks to my soul, at least: metallurgy – or, at least, metal sculpting. Perhaps this is his own form of solace: progress.

And my solace?

I ponder time. How much of it there is, stretching before me like a great field. How little of it there is – for my dear friend Darleen, for my Jaycen. How are these times meant to be the same?
And will it be enough? How long will I need to wait to see my father again – and will my waiting ever be answered?

Now, there was something else of rather significant interest to the family’s history occurring on that day, which Aurum covered in about two sentences. Which is, in my feeling, greatly inadequate. For the most part, I shall reconstruct as best I can from Stannum’s personal correspondence, which he wrote at a much later date than these events, and for a different purpose: they had to be recovered from their proper owners by my patrons, years later.
That day, Abrianna King threw a pool party, because it was Leisure Day, after all. Gotta have a pool party for Leisure Day. And Stannum was, naturally, invited. Which was when he noticed something…
“Hey, girl. Is it just me… Or are you wearing werewolf fur with your swimsuit? Isn’t that hot?”
Abrianna squirmed.
“We~ll,” she drew it out. “Actually…I’m kind of..stuck. Well, lots of werewolves in town are. It’s… Not great… But hey, don’t worry about it! It’s a party, right? Don’t worry about a thing!”
She smiled around her jutting fangs, or at least made the noble effort, ending somewhere in an insincere half-smile, and Stannum had to admit it: he’d thought she was beautiful before, but it was stunningly beautiful, that attempt to abandon her troubles. It was what he would do, except not as elegantly: he’d have to pull someone else into it, and her independence was itself stunning. Well, he was his mother’s son, after all – it wasn’t like helping her was out of the question.
His mother had, for his birthday, handed him a number of potions – potions to make friends with whomever he liked, potions to avoid having to sleep, potions for (and this one he was a little dubious about) fertility, and… potions to turn any supernatural creature back into a normal sim.
“If in the course of events you find someone who you would like to take up residence here, who would otherwise be unsuitable – this will help you, I’m sure,” She had said. Well, moving in might a little strong – he was completely uninterested in settling down like that. But he did want to help her.
“Hey, if you want…I can fix that. Um, but the thing is…You wouldn’t be a werewolf anymore. That cool?”
She considered this for a long time.
“You can really do that? I – I haven’t actually been in sim form for a long, long time…I… Yes! Help me, if you can.”
To be honest, he was a little surprised it worked.

Just a simple matter of tossing the potion…

And in a puff of blue smoke emerged Abrianna King, completely a normal sim, like a bird flying out from a fog.
“There we go! Not bad, right?!”
He crowed, more than a little self-satisfied.
“Thank you so much!”
Not knowing how else to express it, she embraced him. And then she kissed him. And so on…

His happiness at having helped her and her happiness at having been helped ran rampant; the summer heat and this joy was, for Stannum at least – of Abrianna, there’s little record of her love life before this point -- introduction and teacher into the final arts of love. About this, Aurum had this to say:

It appears my youngest son has found a companion; I asked him about his intentions regarding this woman, if we would have to manage household space for her presence here.
”Who, Bria? Naaah, nah, we’re just…You know. Just. Mom, that’s a really mean thing to ask a guy, okay?!”

I ended up discussing this with Jaycen while I put Venus to bed.
“Is it a ‘mean thing to ask a guy?’”
”Nah, I don’t think so…But. Heh. That was the worst sort of question to get when I was younger.” He shook his head. ”I guess he takes after me like that. Good grief.”
“Hm. From the standpoint of an organic being, it’s a reasonable logic; it’s of an evolutionary advantage for a young male to seek partners with relatively low cost in terms of personal investment…” I sigh, however. It is an accurate assessment, but I have to admit… It is a little concerning. “I just hope if there is an ‘evolutionary advantage,’ he will be a good father… And perhaps let me do research.”
Jaycen laughed, and I was happy enough to hear that sound that I do not care that I did not say anything particularly funny, and just nestled into his arms.
”Well, I’m sure you’ll harass our boy into doing it right, just like you did me.” He considers this for a moment longer, and that charming, familiar old face melts into a more serious expression. ”You know, bae, that was – no, you are – you really are the best thing that could have ever happened to me.”
“It’s completely mutual.”
”What I don’t get is how it happened. It sure as plumbob wasn’t karma, because I absolutely didn’t deserve you – and I can’t figure out what sort of cruel god would give me to you…”
I scoffed, but did not shift my position from his embrace.
”I guess it’s one of those unexplainable miracles, like fate, plumbobs, or the big bang.”
Now I arced back slightly, my head pulling away from the comfort of his chest.
“While it’s true that our exact understanding of it will still require some updates as we improve our deep understanding of astrophysics, the big bang is rather well-explained, from a scientific standpoint.” He nodded and smiled, fondly and with no more comprehension than I expected of him, as I launched into an explanation of our current understanding of the forces and processes involved in the big bang.
And when I stopped for a breath of air, he kissed me.

”Alright, fine then. It’s an unexplainable miracle, like fate, plumbobs…Or you. Personally, I think you might be the most miraculous one of the bunch – at least, the one I’m luckiest to have.”
It is impossible to argue with that man.
Well…Not impossible. After all, there was one glaring fault in his argument (Not about the part about me being unexplainable – I might be explainable if my father were around… But the principles of my own creation still allude me, and no other person know them).
“I think you vastly underestimate one thing, my dear… How lucky I am, as well.”

Leisure Day passed in this matter.

Diane is making splendid progress with Venus, completing the final of her essential skills. Though I could not help but make some note of what they were saying…
”Ok, now, you’re going to have that body forever, so you’ve got to learn to take care of it, alright, Venus? Body – say it with me!”
“…Body. I have a body.”
“Yes, you do.”
“She no have a body.”
“…Who doesn’t, bugaboo?”
Here Venus paused and crinkled her brow and looked very, very serious in the way only the very young can.
”Me?”
She said, uncertainly.
”No-me, me, no-me, me…” She just repeated those words as if they were a lullaby. “Body. No-body?”[/b]


An unusual choice in first words… I presume. It’s not like I ever knew more than 3 toddlers before, so it’s mostly a matter of making an educated guess. I will add this to the list of things I need to study, ranked in priority above “Has anyone actually seen an actual llama, despite so much of simnation being obsessed with them?” but below the phenomenon of “Why does the entire house remember to feed the fish at once, as opposed to individually remembering to feed the fish?” I suspect this ranking will change.


Jaycen has been putting some extra spring in his step recently; besides his attentions to me, his work in the garden has taken a new life – I believe he will soon begin work on growing vegan cheese: cheese that had never been milk, but grew heartily on a plant.

And, as well, he enjoys playing his granddaughter, her fond playmate in the nursery, for as long as she will have him.
And, perhaps more grimly, as long as he has.
To Jaycen, who’d just rounded the corner on 91, life seemed precious. Life seemed beautiful.  I believe he felt that from the depths of his soul.


Because that evening, life was also over.


I felt it in my spine and in my limbic system. I felt it in the alloy of my blood and the fine conductive nerve-ends of my fingers and toes. I rushed into the room, sending the rest of the people in the house running in front of me.

In the light of the full moon, he was radiant, alabaster, the light swirling as he shuffled off this mortal coil almost…dare I say it…golden? And he smiled softly, and sadly. He would not be Jaycen if he didn’t smile.

Even as his son and I could not keep tears from our eyes (a moment of thanks: Ferrus was out, getting dinner on his way home from work. I did not want him to see it. I did not want Stannum to see it; my wishes were irrelevant.) At the same time, some part of me was thinking that I was foolish, that I was wrong, that I should see him off…That this last memory of me, while the world is more than a thing to look back on, should be… With a smile.  Especially because of what he said as his spirit floated free.


”Oops, is it that time already? And so soon… Ah, man, Aurum’s gonna kill me.” He said it fondly, almost laughing in the face of his own end. But, surely, it must have been frightful. Surely, he must have been sad, or scared.  So I, too, should have faced his death with the same dignity, of a woman who will face a thousand deaths. I, too, should have tried and been at ease, for him. I…

I was wracked with sobs, rising from someplace deep within me, and beyond and control. I was wrung empty, and twisted. My body knows how I feel, when my mind is uncertain. I could not ask it to lie now; I didn’t know how.


”I do not think that will be a concern. Come, Jaycen Alchimia, born to man as Jaycen Hendrix. For you, it is time.”[/i]
”Riiight, right…” Jaycen shrugged and floated over to the Grim Reaper, who stood slightly aback. There was a moment of pause, as if something was expected, and, not finding it in my husband, he continued.
”You’ve led a busy life; have you any regrets?”[/i]

There was a long pause, in which Jaycen just smiled. Then, at last, his head gently waved from side to side.
”Nope. Eh, maybe one… But it’s the sort of regret you’ve got to be grateful for, you know.” At last, through the haze of recent death, through the powerful presence – perhaps almost magnetism – of Grim, he turns and looks at me. His eyes are the eyes of a playful man, who opened paths which might not have existed, before he came to them, who was gentle and kind, in his own way – who one day opened his door to find a stranger on it, and followed her home.

 ”…Sorry, babe. I know you’ve got to hate me for this… But hey: I used to say – well, I used to think – that I’d be moving on from this sooner or later, right? I guess I was right. I guess I was right after all.”

“Do not be irrational. I could never hate you, for anything.”

Smoke rose, and figures whooshed and blurred somehow out of sight. The urn clattered on the ground – in a study, it would prove no heavier with this addition to his remains than without it. But an alchemist knows the difference, and that it meant he was gone.

Aurum is the only person who reports that Jaycen Alchimia – Originally, as the Grim Reaper himself put it, born to man as Jaycen Hendrix – paused for a long time. In truth, the remainders would say, in retrospect, that he barely paused at all; Jaycen was not a man of introspection. This was not to say he was not wise, at times: he could find, after all, Aurum’s heart, when even Aurum could not find Aurum’s heart. As an injector, I may have given him a hard time. As an editor, I tried to find the passages to show him as everyone else knew him: casual from the depths of his soul, slanted and yet never irredeemable – indeed, redeemed – at times charming, at times goofy, at times an absolute skirt-chaser, even if he eventually picked a skirt to chase until the end of his days.
He was a father, and a lover, and a friend, and in these regards, he succeeded better than anyone, perhaps even himself, might have given him credit for at first.

What happened next is a note removed, a note absent: it was not kept with the remainder of Aurum’s notes, and thus, a copy is not in the possession of my patrons for their – or my -- perusal. The only copy extant, I stumbled upon touring the museum, where it was hidden away, so long ago. As such, this segment will be absent in my official report, and any copies of this story made from their copies. It will not be surrendered.


I could never hate him. But at that moment, I could not forgive myself. That I, who could transcend death in so many ways, could not spare one of them for him. It felt irreconcilable. The equation of exchanges, of chemicals and reactions, between great mission and great love could not be balanced. The world tilted, and the world slowed. I understood – I understood what the reaper had meant about relativity. I understood so much, and most of all, that I missed him already.  I went, through a silent world of people talking and pleading and crying, to my study.

I have sold my soul to a demon called alchemy, my son would say – or perhaps he would not, not anymore – and yes, now, I had sold my heart to it, too. Until him, I hadn’t known I possessed such a thing. Not the way human sims mean it.

All I could ask now was for this demon to let me give him this offering, just once: the most perfect, and pure gift I know how to give. Something deserving of him, and to keep him company.


What the reaper meant about relativity was this: that he, waiting and dead, is stopped. He no longer moves through this universe. And I, continuing this path onward, must move through it.
One day, the day will come when all that is in this museum – all the gains we had made from the life he’d given this family – will be measured and accounted for. When it all will be dragged at last into the light. And on that day, on that waited-for day, on that promised day… I will bring him, too, to light. That is what I must wish for.
The clock of a moving object will tick more slowly than an unmoving one: and so, for me, the time until that day comes will last forever. Forever without his kiss, or his laughter when I’ve gone too far over his head. Forever without him rolling over to put an arm around me when I dream about the fire.
In that moment, the moment I lost him – as I lost my father, until I could shuck all my weakness, at the end of this journey – relativity became so miserable, and so cruel.

[Trip]

It's nice that Aurum has recognized that she has a working heart, but I'll miss Jaycen.

I do like that the last screenshot of him alive was playing dolls with Venus. That's just darling.

I'm also pretty intrigued by Stannum's new developments. While being a bit of a player works well for a dynasty, I kind of want to see him settle down too.

[Deme]

It's nice that Aurum has recognized that she has a working heart, but I'll miss Jaycen.

I do like that the last screenshot of him alive was playing dolls with Venus. That's just darling.

I'm also pretty intrigued by Stannum's new developments. While being a bit of a player works well for a dynasty, I kind of want to see him settle down too.

Thanks for the comment! I was getting a little nervous there.

I think she recognized it long ago...But the reminder's always sweet, even when it comes at such a sad time.
And I was in such a good mood when I got that shot -- both because, "d'aww," and because Jaycen had been so pro-active about things lately, with lots of cute wishes like to play with his granddaughter or to kiss Aurum or the like -- he even managed to pop a skill opportunity!
Now, it feels like some manner of irony.

Whether or not Stannum will settle down -- I haven't played too far, so that's a legitimate question for me, too. Anything's possible is my answer. I do have some goals in terms of offspring that I'm fairly determined about, though.

[RaiaDraconis]

...wow.

Just wow. The way that Aurum reacted to Jaycen's passing was just so...her. It was perfect. So scientific, so logical, and yet so human. Tear-inducingly beautiful and sad.

On a more light-hearted note, it looks like Stannum is having some fun.

[Darien]

I must say, I really missed this dynasty. Thank you for continuing it.
It's like reading an amazing book.

[Deme]

...wow.

Just wow. The way that Aurum reacted to Jaycen's passing was just so...her. It was perfect. So scientific, so logical, and yet so human. Tear-inducingly beautiful and sad.

On a more light-hearted note, it looks like Stannum is having some fun.

Thank you very much. It was...really a pleasure, and really draining, to write for Aurum again, at so important a juncture. Honestly, I sniffled a bit as well. Jaycen's a character I may have to go back to on my own, if I ever have the time to play The Sims 3 outside of this.

And hey, girls aren't the only ones that just want to have fun 

I must say, I really missed this dynasty. Thank you for continuing it.
It's like reading an amazing book.

I'm glad you're back as a reader! It's really exciting to see how many people are coming back to see this; I honestly didn't expect it.

Death Mask
_{From the personal journal of Ferrus Alchimia}

I found out later; I was at work. Honestly, even then, it was just a phone call. It wasn’t real.
I found myself staring at a half-carved piece of stone dad had been working on when it hit me; I didn’t know what to do with it. It would never be carved. I could leave it out forever, and it would never be carved.

That was how I knew my father was really gone. Silly, isn’t it? I’m so art-obsessed, that that’s how I understand someone’s death. Ha, ha, I’m sure you’re saying, right, journal? Right? It is pretty pathet –

The remainder of the page has been ripped off, but I’ll hold with the value of presenting it as it was, with my own small suggestions as to some missing words, where the page tore unevenly. The journal picks up on the next page as usual, and in a steadier hand.



 It took Diane to calm me down. For a while, I just rested, crying, in her arms, while she patted my back. It felt a little selfish – she’d lost her own father just then, too, so I really should have been stronger; at least, that’s what I thought. I might have mumbled something like that… But then she smiled at me and said,
 ”Hey…Don’t feel bad for crying. You feel what you feel, and you shouldn’t feel bad about that.”
“…Isn’t that a paradox?” I mean, I feel bad about things pretty much automatically. She laughed.

 ”Good point. But, you know…If you want to cry, then cry.” The world was a warm bubble of her arms for a minute, the fearlessness in her voice more soothing than even that. ”You’re going to have, basically, literally forever to get cool about this – and you don’t even have to do that! But until then...Don’t be ashamed about being sensitive; it’s what I like best about you.”
 ”…And this is the time we have, to steady each other.” I said, recovering my nerve. ”…I’m just…going to miss him. When I couldn’t get along with Mom or other kids, it was just you and my dad. He always gave the best advice…”
 She patted my back, finding nothing that could be said at first. We commiserated for a while, over our fathers: their art and their stories, their advice and their kindnesses; the things we’d learned watching them, perhaps for better or worse…  But mostly better, we think. 




…What worries me is Stan. He was there, so it’s not like it took a while to hit him… But all the same, I think he was in shock. Or denial. Or something like that – though, I’ll be honest, at any other time, I wouldn’t find it worrying.


 He had someone over that night, and I guess the best way of putting it was that he found comfort in her arms. Diane’ll scold me for finding that a cause for worry – and she’s right – but isn’t that a little fast to jump to woohoo, when someone’s died? When it’s like that… There’s bound to be trouble. Because it’s not about love or happiness, then – just distraction.  There’s a lot of room for someone to end up getting used there, I mean.


And then there’s Mom. I didn’t see Mom at all that night; I can’t even begin to guess where she was, or what she felt… I’m sorry, though. For everything.



The only one who’s happy is Venus, and she’s been getting extra attention from her other grandmother, who I think hasn’t been entirely sure what to do with herself since her husband passed.
Well, besides cuddle her “little copper snuggle-uggle-bug.”
Aunt Darleen seemed at least recovered in her spirits, though.


Stan spent the day with Abrianna King, as I understand – just more hanging out, flirting, what is for his young adulthood now “the usual.” Which, well… Almost immediately had consequences.

Yuna Tanner – you know, from the other night? – was waiting outside, for him to get home. She knew.
”Stannum Alchimia, you scumbag! Going off with another woman, right when I’d come by to see how you were feeling!”

She really laid into him there, her finger jabbing into the air, unsure whether to lower itself or make a fist – the tendons on the back of her hand pressing against her skin, a suggestion half-carved from her skin. Her words struck Stan like the sudden summer hail, all sharp ice and cold edges.

”Things like kindness or – or – or love don’t mean anything to you, do they, huh? Well, answer me?!”


I…understand my brother; at least, um, I think I do. He’d never meant to hurt anyone’s feelings. He’d never even thought about it, not really – he just wanted to have some fun. He’d just kept doing whatever had arisen in him, whatever feeling translated into action – and they had no more permanence, in word or in deed, than those feelings. He’s always seemed to me, like Diane, so much freer than I am; he never worries about anything until it’s too late. Unlike, well, me, who worries every step of the way.

He’d made no sweeping declarations of eternal love: he may not have been entirely honest, but he’d never intended it as lying, or cheating. He thought everyone else was having fun, too.
Does that make sense? Or is that just my defense of my little brother, made with too much love?

Even if it is too tender a defense, you could tell he felt bad.



”Look, I never meant anything serious by it! And…I really was glad you were there. The other night, I mean. I do like you, you know. I’m just not ready to settle down yet…”
She lowered her hand and considered him – maybe she was thinking about the other night, and the full moon.

”Maybe I’ll forgive you. Maybe,” She insisted.

”Thanks, babe! You won’t regret it!”
He bounded up the steps two at a time. I’m not really sure she absolved you all that much, bro.


Uh, how did I know this? …Well, the windows. I was taking a break from sculpting, but not a long one. I want to finish my supermax soon. I’m not, well, exactly sure I’ll be able to finish before my adult birthday – I doubt it, since I still have Topiaries and Wood to go. And then there’s two other skills to finish off for my dreams and – oh, goodness, this is going to be hard…

Um, don’t get mad at me for eavesdropping, alright? They’re big windows!

I, at least, am not mad at him for eavesdropping: it is sometimes difficult to track records of people like Yuna Tanner, who played a part in the history without ever leaving a record I can access about it. while many of the main immortals were careful record-keepers (Aurum, especially, is prolific, to put it mildly, and obsessive, to put it accurately: her personal and impersonal accounts bleed together, so I have many a long night scouring passages from this period about the light of the sun, the burning of flesh, autumn leaves, burning to ash as an alchemical purification process, and the soul of the world in a cycle of decay necessary for rebirth for a conversation between herself and Darleen), most of their associates kept much more spotty accounts, at best. I’m having similar problems with someone else, from just after this particular stretch of time… I swear, that man must have hated pen and paper even more than fairies.
Ah, but I’m rambling.
 Stannum didn’t write anything about his life down until he was much older; certainly, the Stannum that existed now did not wholly grasp that there was anything to explain, outside of maybe what he’d said to Yuna – and that could be left to air, to be said and meant exactly once.


While on my way back, I overhead a different conversation, coming from the kitchen.


”When you think about it, though, it’s all…fantastic. Our kids having a kid, you getting to be immortal… Even the promise you’ll come back for us one day. Maybe even you and Darren and Jaycen having met; it all sounds like something out of a fairy tale,” Aunt Darleen was saying, in a wistful, but not unhappy, voice.  In a more cheerful tone, she added, ”Gosh, but you sure know how to assemble some amazing things!”

My mother was calmer about this idea, and raised her hand to her lips, hiding a fond smile in an expression of literal-minded study.
”I do not believe such a thing. Amazing, perhaps. But fantastic? It’s only magic and chance, and even magic is subject to scientific study…And scientific study subject to magic. They are really not at all incompatible.”


”Oh, but don’t you love that, Aury!” Darleen nudged her on the arm, dislodging the hand that hid away my mother’s smile.

”Of course. It’s an incredibly exciting existence to spend forever in,” She peered closely, her eyes sharply peering over a slightly prominent nose, focused and gleaming bright gold. ”…But you have no regrets, my friend? Is there nothing I might do for you?”
Aunt Darleen laughed.

”No, no. Well, nothing you could do, anyway. Really, I think…In the end, you’ll have more regrets than me, won’t you? I’ll get to be with my sweet Darren soon enough, and there’s nothing for me to worry about, either! If I can see my granddaughter get a little older before that, then that’ll be it all squared away!”

My mother nodded, grimly.

…I wonder if she really regrets things, Mom. If she regrets the choices that, well, ultimately led to me. And more than that: all of it, to this morning.

As I sculpt, I try and put that layered sense into it, of her hand covering her smiling mouth. I do not know the statue’s metallic regrets, either.


While Ferrus worked…

Yuna Tanner was waiting, heavy with suspicion and concern. She wouldn’t enter the house, and she wouldn’t leave: she just waited. The temperature dropped. She was hungry and tired and had to use the bathroom, for hours, just waiting.


Until eventually, Aurum couldn’t bear to see her suffer any longer and perked her up for her strange vigil on the Alchimia’s front lawn. It would not be disrupted until very early the next morning, just around dawn, and she didn’t get to say what she’d intended to say, what she’d prepared to say, as she waited in the rain.




We all felt it happen, since it was right in the center of the house, which seemed to be the place where Aunt Darleen belonged most: somewhere between my mother’s lab and Uncle Darren’s old computer, between the kitchen and the art room, between all the places that make us individuals, and into something like a home, I guess.
 Something sighed out of her, shifting out with the translucency of stained glass and the lightness of a foggy breath. Is…Is that what a life really looks like, as it’s leaving?


“Oh, what a relief,” She said, looking down at how she had dropped away, leaving – somehow – herself, “I was worried I was going to be left here for a long time.”
Her calm, her ease – it felt so surreal, like the world was suspended as the Grim Reaper appeared. I couldn’t think.


”Darleen Dreamer, born to the world of man as Darleen Matlapin… Being left has nothing to do with it; your time is your time. And this…Is exactly that.”
Darleen’s ghost very nearly raised her fist then, but it came up an inquiring, suspicious finger.
“Will I…get to be with him again? You aren’t going to play a trick on an old lady, right? I’ve been nothing that good, and don’t think I’m not going to put up a fight if that doesn’t mean something!” She said this with a bright, feisty smile, her cheer undiminished to the last. Even Grim seemed a little taken-aback.

“Mrs. Dreamer…I do not trick anyone.” I wanted to scream that that wasn’t an answer – that that didn’t mean anything at all. That that wasn’t what anyone cared about, not really. Least of all Darleen.
But the words huddled in my throat, and all that came out was something like a whimper.


And she seemed satisfied. She even clicked her heels as she went in, to whatever came next; with Darren, we could believe…

Leaving us all too stunned to know what to think. The last few days, the last few deaths, had us all wrung out, exhausted to the soul. All I could find the time to think, then, was how we’d miss her laugh.

Darleen Dreamer died aged 92, a day after Jaycen, and more importantly, within two days of the death of her beloved husband. Her tasks were, in some ways, not necessarily essential. She did not paint portraits, or grow life fruit, or catch death fish, or cook. While she took photos, the dynasty, on a purely legal level, may have continued without her.
But without her, would Aurum have come around to the face of love, romantic love, as she did? Would Diane have been born as she was, and grown up as Ferrus’s support, and Ferrus her support, and thus, the two of them as partners? Would the house have known its laughter or its joys, with just Jaycen to lighten the mood? Would Aurum have had, outside her family and husband, a single friend who she actually cared about, to comfort her and celebrate? Would anyone have? When we say goodbye, we say goodbye to someone who understood this, who was precious and dear to all she met.
On the level of the heart, which is irreplaceable, Darleen was absolutely vital.



Well, wherever they are,  we must believe death does not play tricks…Though I note, just a little sadly, that her tombstone might not have been as big as her husband’s; and I think of all the things a person gives up for love.



I made absolutely sure to hold Diane tightly that night.


“If…If there’s something you want to talk about, or…Something I can do, then…Just say. Cry as much as you want; I’ll be right here.”
”…Thanks, Ferr-bear. I, I think I’ll be OK. I’m a little shaken but… I’ll always have the love they gave me. Love never dies.”

I nod. She puts her hand in my hand, and her head falls gently on my shoulder. For a long time, we don’t say anything. She sniffles into my arms, and I wish I could do something more than put my arm around her and kiss her, or run my hand through the short, springy curls of her hair.

Eventually, she says,
”…Whatcha thinking about?”


 “I’m a little worried. It’s…been hard for everyone. Will everything be alright here? You? Mom? Stannum? Venus? She’ll be starting school soon; are kids going to pick on her? And…What about… I haven’t been getting any calls, like everyone else – what if I’m not skilled enough? Is there a pregnant lady on our porch? Will she ever leave?”

Diane paused, looking up – her eyes puffy and red, no matter how many tears I kiss away; I guess there’s some things no one can make better – and watches my worried face specifically.
“…Uh, Ferr-Bear? Those last two are pretty specific. Is there a pregnant lady on our porch?”
I shrug. I think it’s, given everything, likely. But also not at all what I really want to say.
“Did you see Yuna Tanner when you came in? Was she wearing a different outfit than her usual skirt?” “…There’s a pregnant lady on our porch. I’ll go let her in.”


She was gone when we went to see her, leaving us to what I’d really meant to say, or really meant to do…

”I think that, us being together right now…That’s how Mom would want us to be right now. You remember how happy she was when we got married?”
“She was over the moon. She really was…so happy, to see everyone together…That was… She lived for her family.”
And Venus, and all of the immortals after…Will have to keep making that worthwhile. Death doesn’t play tricks; I hope we won’t, either.

[Shewolf13]

I can't get over your writing Deme... it truly is something! 

[Deme]

Thank you very much! Here's some more...well, something.

Part 13: Parenting is Hard

In the wake of Darleen’s death, Diane wasn’t the only one Ferrus was concerned about comforting. He’d found her wandering the halls in the early morning, her face deliberately blank, and pulled her aside into the art room, where he spent basically all of his non-working hours these days, trying to push through mediums so he could move through to other projects.

 
“Mom? Are you sure you’re OK? It’s…been a rough couple of days, with Dad and Aunt Darleen, and you’ve…sort of been scarce, and I…Well, I was worried about you.”
“Please, do not be concerned. I have been prepared for this from the outset. I have been absolutely hardened, so do not… It is an acceptable matter…It is…”
Her words came out haltingly, thick and heavy with the weight of the last two days, and their unexpected blows. Aurum was no good at farewells; had this whole venture not been her way of avoiding a farewell?
Ferrus’ weakness may have been his heart, slightly over-touchy and slightly wound, it’s true. If that’s the case, then his strength also had to be his heart, which felt out the weight of those farewells on her shoulders, and had before she said anything.
He pulled her into a hug; the two figures, made of gold, must have understood then the unusual conductivity of that metal which allowed their shared sorrow to move between them like their body heat, like a pair of cold coins heating in your hand.

And Aurum’s body softened enough to let loose her own heart, rather than try and let it circle inside her head.

“There, there…It’s OK, Mom. Well, not OK OK. But, you know…  I know. It’s not forever.”
He was throwing words at the wall to see if any of them stuck. Finding them inadequate to comfort someone who he’d always had a hard time reaching and, more than that, someone so precious as his mother, who he’d be spending lifetimes with.
“’Let no man be considered dead while his name is still spoken.’  As long as you and I are here – as long as you and I hold Dad and everyone close…Then we’ll be carrying them with us. You work with ghosts; you know more than anyone that nothing’s really gone.”
This seemed to do the trick. She straightened, and nodded.
“…You are right; there are natural laws for the soul as well, which must be understood and adhered to. This is my duty, as well. Thank you, Ferrus.”
They both got changed for Venus’s upcoming birthday party, and rejoined their discussion.
“…While we are talking, might it at last be time? You said you intended to give me the tissue samples I have been seeking, so might you…?”
Ferrus had said that, hadn’t he? Still, the moment the phrase ‘Tissue Sample’ left her lips, a shudder jolted down his spine. He just wanted to go hide somewhere, away from needles and mysterious beakers and the prospect of terrible clones and incomplete flipper-things.

“Mom, I…I can’t. Ok, I just – I just can’t. I want to help, honest, but – no. No. I’m too scared. I’m sorry, sorry, but no. That’s it!”
Aurum regarded this with an assessing air.
“Very well. While it is regrettable, I will accept this outcome. I would hope to study you more exactingly in the future through other means… But I do not wish to frighten you.”
Ferrus’s heart sang the way it did when the ice broke before his chainsaw in exactly the way he’d intended – the whole thing falling like an avalanche, a structure suddenly emerging bright and crystalline. He thought he might have heard angels singing hallelujah.
 “Besides, it will be a fine mother-son bonding exercise for Stannum and I.”
The angels shut up and shuffled awkwardly off to one side. A leopard, Ferrus must have thought, cannot change its spots.

^{From the personal journal of Diane Alchimia-Dreamer}

Enough teary eyes! That may be easier said then done, but you can’t just sit around being sad because, you know, a whole bunch of parents – like, all of them except Aunt Aurum who at this point won’t die even if she’s killed – are gone. At least, not forever. Time to pick up and think about the good things in life.
Because hey, life is good. People are too quick to forget that, just because it hurts sometimes.

So, good things.
Today’s my precious baby girl’s birthday, for one! We decided to throw a big party for it, though I guess it’s really too early for her to appreciate it. But I liked seeing some people – I’ve been so busy with Ferrus, Venus, and work that I haven’t had any time for meeting folks. Who knew working on becoming a rock star would be so hard? Maybe I should quit again, ha ha. Take up street music, and do graffiti. That’d be fun!

Someone thinking along the same lines as me was Stan, who basically used the party as a chance to meet women. Well, I have to admit, Marisol’s kind of cute; he could have worse taste. But if he’s going to keep things good with the girls he already has to hang with, he kind of needs to think about what’s going on; if you’re not up-front, it doesn’t matter where your heart is, because you’ll hurt people. I’ve learned that lesson.

Well, I didn’t have time to watch him check the availability of every woman who’d attend the party.

I had a daughter to get to a cake. I was going to miss having a little copper toddler around, clinging to my ankles and saying nonsense things…


But it’ll be nice to have a more independent child, too. As it stands, it’s a real struggle to get everything around the house done, you know?


And it was nice having the pretty much whole family – such as it is, smaller now, aww, man, I’m getting gloomy, aren’t I? – to sit down and have some cake.


Ferrus even managed to corner Sheila and talk art with her. It was hard to tell what, if anything, she felt about her dad’s death – it probably seemed, in this fast-paced world, a little distant, as he had always been, despite their best efforts; it’s hard finding the time, you know? I dig it.
…But I still feel a little sad, for both of them.

Meanwhile, Venus had quietly gone off to make herself scarce, get her hair and clothes in order.
“Do you need help, hon?”
”No, no. It’s all peachy-fine. I already have help.” was all she answered.

In her features, Venus largely favored her mother, I think, but more subtly – I admit, looking at her in childhood, I’d think it hard to recall much about her but her expression, of odd focus and no clear feeling, somehow serious, though not unsmiling – and her bright, vivid skin, against with anything else about her had to compete. She sometimes wondered if perhaps one day she’d go green, like a penny; people who laughed were told that being a penny is nothing to laugh about.
 

In her personal style, at least to begin with, Venus was eclectic and slightly anachronistic – bright colors, often not entirely smooth in their presence – wavering between red and pinks – and in the same way, she resembled in some ways an odd princess; this is a strange choice, as her own interest in fairy tales did not emerge until slightly later. Like the golden streaks in her hair, it seemed to emerge without origin – and yet, by all accounts, wholly naturally.
Sourceless, but organic, and entirely of the nature of Venus.  They were also wildly inappropriate for dealing with horses, which was an interest of Venus’s. Wildly inappropriate clothing was also entirely of the nature of Venus.

I am not the only one who looks on the transformation of her youth with confusion, as records attest.

So, when I came in to Venus’s room to hand off her present – it was just a baseball, but it was the one I’d had since I was a kid, so it’s, you know, sentimental – I noticed she’d applied some face paint.  And at first I thought, aww, she really does take after her momma. I had always liked face paint as a child, and there’s some in my uniform now, even!

…But it was done really nicely. Like, probably better than a kid could do on her own face.
And then I thought, and then I said,
“Venus, sweetie, who did your face paints? Did your daddy do those for you?” She shook her head. “Did you do them yourself? And your braids?”
She fidgeted, and glanced away. She just sort of, I don’t know…Looked at a nondescript patch of wisteria-covered wall.

”…Maybe?” She looked back at me and back at that same spot on the wall again.
“You won’t get in trouble. I mean, I wore a lot of face-paints, too. I think it’s cool.” You know, I bet that’s sooo not helping. I hated it when my parents were OK with anything I did.
But she just shook her head.

”Yeah, but… Maybe it was me, and maybe it wasn’t?” She suggested, as if trying out how it sounded. Then she smiled, brightly and innocently. ”The difference between me and not-me is very hard to find. It’s like a misty, dew-soaked morning!” She paused and, because I had no idea what she meant, added, ” I…Um, what’s the word for something that’s sort of there, but you can’t touch it or see it? It’s an invisible matter of faith?”
I felt like what I really wanted was for Ferrus to handle this. I could sense the waters here, and they were getting seriously above my head. Heck, I’d have taken Aunt Aurum’s tag-in, if she’d offered. Mom, mom, please stop being dead for a minute and help me! Just someone who knew where this conversation was going to go!
“…Abstract?” I suggest. She clapped.
”Thank you, momma! Abstract, yes! Who’s me and who isn’t is sort of abstract. I had no hand in them, but the person who did them might have been me.”
That seemed to be the answer to the question as far as she was concerned, and no amount of asking changed her answer. So… I just let this one be.

Which let her talk to…Well, let me write out what she said.

”Well, I like horses, and you?... Well, because they’re the cutest and the sweetest little long-haired angels, don’t you think? They’re gentle and know something important of the world; they carry grain on their breath and thunder in their hooves. They are the vessels of great saviors, and the vestals of a wonder! …So that’s why.
…Alright, so we’ve started there. That’s good.”
“Venus,” I was dreading asking, given how our last venture went. “Who are you talking to?”
She nodded.
”Yes, momma. That’s exactly what we’re trying to figure out!...It’s very hard for her.” Her face went blank and serious. She drew herself ”But we’ll understand, heedless of all trials. I will help us find the lost pieces. It’s…important, helping her.”
 
Alright, it was time to let that be, I think. At least until someone waaay better at understanding cryptic children was on-hand.
I asked Ferrus about it, when he’d finished talking to his half-sister. Of course, he was immediately worried beyond reason – about pretty much anything on the list of topics one could worry about: Is something wrong? Is she lonely and making things up as a desperate cry for companionship and affection? Are the other kids going to pick on her? How long do you let something so very odd-sounding go on before you decide there’s a real problem, anyway? How do you tell a phase of, you know, kids being kids from a real issue? Did we do something wrong? If we do the wrong thing here, what effect will it have on her life?

Listening to all that, jostled off at Ferrus’s usual high-speed worrying, so intensely fretful that sometimes his own mouth can’t keep up, and is left repeating things until he’s got a solid word-buffer going, oddly enough made me feel much calmer. It’s something that I don’t think a lot of people, like my co-workers, get about our relationship. “How can someone so carefree be married to a guy who’s so…Not carefree?” I can hand off all my worrying to him, and know it’d been done by the world’s most fabulously handsome, class-A worrier.  Then I can just focus on plowing through anything!...Because he has already thought of anything that could go wrong.
Yeah, he’s a little insecure, but he had gotten better. Also, he totally packs little love-notes into my guitar case before I go to work. And I read them and it’s like any stage in the tri-town area’s home. I’m not going to tell them much – or any – of that. I don’t have to justify myself to them, after all.
…Uh, wait. That is really not what I was talking about.
Anyway, so he worried about all of that, which let me relax a little, and get a grip on this.

“Look, it’s way too early to seriously worry, right? I mean, I got a little creeped out there… Who knows? She may have just been messing with her old lady.”
”Phh. You’ll never be an old lady… But you may be right. I’m more worried about other kids…People can be a little harsh, when they’re young…The important thing is if she’s happy,” came something like his official stance, after all the perfunctory worrying was done.
“Right. So until we start to see, like, actual troubles – we shouldn’t be worried. I just jumped the gun.”
”You were worried because you care,” he answered, his own calm restored from mine. ”I think that’s the best we can do right now.”

Hmm…That may be true.
Parenting is hard. Oh, hey! Speaking of that! I nearly forgot…
There was a woman at the party that Stannum had already hit up, and had some fun times with, I’m sure, former werewolf Abrianna King.

And, well… “Parenting is Hard” is a lesson she’s going to have opportunity to learn, too, courtesy of one Stan. 

Who just happened to see her as she was leaving. Now, neither of the brothers are like Aunt Aurum, intellectually – uh, that’s probably a good thing – but it’s not like Stan’s stupid, or anything. The dots connected, and the whole realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

So, I’m in the kitchen trying to take over Mom’s old photographing duties, ploughing my way through books about adjusting your focus and so on – and compared to paint, that’s kinda dull, but this is for the people I love best in the whole world, so here I am – when Stan walks in like a wind-up toy, grabs a plate from the fridge without checking, and just sort of mechanically puts it in his mouth.

He stared off into space for a few minutes, and then just sort of announced to the kitchen the fact that I just relayed:
”…I…I think I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Is this about Yuna?” I asked, recalling the other night’s conversation and woman-on-porch experience.
”Yuna?!” His voice was little more than a squeak. ”…Her, too?”
“Oh, uh, you didn’t know?”
He buried his head in his hands. This may be a self-made problem, but I can’t help but feel bad for how obviously shaken up he was.
”No! I…What am I going to do?”
“Do you love her? Well, either her?” That’s the most important question!
”...I don’t know! What the heck is love really supposed to be, anyway?”
I propped up my face with a hand and sighed.
“Well…That’s for you to find out. But if you don’t love them, then I don’t think you’re obligated to them at all. ” Well, I think exactly how obligated he’d be to begin with would probably depend on his feelings over-all, even outside of love. But… It’s a bad idea to marry someone just because you have kids. “Well, except for helping out. It’s wrong to just leave someone hanging with a kid. I meant relationship-wise. …You’re pretty much auto-obliged to your kids, at least for a while. Even if all you wanted was a fun time, they don’t deserve to not have a dad because of that.”
Pure misery was on his golden face – no, not misery. Worry.

”…What if – I’m not ready for that sort of thing!” He pulled at his short brown hair. ”I’m not ready for anything! I’m just a dumb kid!”
I looked at him, drawn and fretful and about three minutes from panic. The sheer weight of it all, suddenly crushing into his carefree world.

It wasn’t as if he’d ever really had any obligations within the family, like his brother; he’d never had to think more than a second ahead. And he’d enjoyed that until now.
“Relax, ok? Relax. You can always ask Ferrus and me for help, and…” I suddenly pictured his mother, who, while not a bad mother or mother-in-law, was certainly not going to give…well, kind of personalized advice. “…Books?”

After a long time, he nodded.
”…You’re right. I mean, I’m not making any promises, or anything, but… I’ll try to do what I can.”
Well, that’s all anyone can ask, I guess.


He gets to reading some of the books we have around the house – I think the best anyone can hope is that he rises to the occasion. I pointed this out to Ferrus, while he was taking a second to not sculpt, to which he said, with a distant expression (don’t tell him, but he totally sounds like his mom when he says things like this),
”I think it’s time my little brother finds out what he’s made of, inside…I…Think all any of us can hope is that we’re the right stuff, when the time arises.”

Anyway, that’s where we stand. Venus, courtesy of her grandma’s potions, got to spend the night enjoying her newfound childhood.

…Beating up the air with pillows, I guess? A one-girl pillow fight, would be a better way of putting it.

My daughter’s certainly an individual!

You know, everyone says she’s not a witch… But she can can summon food in the time it takes a person to cross a room. One minute, no plate of food. Next minute, food. That’s at least some kind of magical… Isn’t it?

Speaking of some kind of magical… The night had fallen long and low over the Alchimia house. It had been a long and busy day. The ghosts were out.

And that meant, that although she’d hunted ghosts for years, Aurum finally had the one she wanted.
“Jaycen...”
“…I’m right here, babe.”
For a moment, all she could do was look at him. The days already seemed so long. Eventually, she pulled out the words she was obligated, by her sense of curiosity, and her sense of duty as an alchemist, to give:
“I have questions, naturally; and there are matters on which I’d like to conduct formal study…” And then, I think, the words she’d really wanted to say, But right now…”
“But right now…”
 All they really wanted was to hold one another, like holding candle-light. There was music playing. He reached out a hand.

They danced as they had on their wedding night, close as ectoplasm and flesh would allow.
And watching this, learning something of the growth and tending of love in the face of immortality, though it’s difficult to say exactly what she was learning, was young Venus.


Who set about in turn to befriending the other ghost that night; a ghost wasn’t scary. It was just another far-away thing. Since Neon was an animal, though not a horse, that probably helped.

In the days to come, Aurum gave considerable weight to the state of the household. The garden was dying, slowly but surely; despite having spent some early time in it, Aurum had ultimately retreated, in a bit of prescience. The laundry was piling up, and all the house was covered in a thin layer of grime. The fridge was beginning to empty out.
 Ferrus did little but work and sculpt. Diane had the weight of helping, as well as her career and her hopes of returning to social life outside the house to consider. Both of them had Venus to worry about as well.  Stannum was busy with his personal affairs, but perhaps could be lured to tend to the garden.

Aurum herself was busy with studies: with considering the matter of the town’s fading original populace, with the question… The matter of Venus’s unusual lack of witchy aptitude and her otherwise unusual capacities – these would all need tending to and studying, even if she no longer managed her job.

No, they were just too short-handed… It felt to her like assistance would need to be called in, and if Aurum sensed a problem, well, Aurum was going to go to the most expedient solution, regardless of things like common sense and conventional ethics – though rarely to the point of actual harm – that were in her way. Problem, solution. The rest was an unnecessary concern.
Short-handed? Get more hands.
 But who to ask, who wouldn’t be terribly disrupted, and who would not disrupt them. Someone who would not take up essential space in the long run, when the situation had improved.
Someone who would be not unwilling to live the rest of his life in this house. That was essential.

Eventually, she found a name in her contact lists. Moses Hudson, son of Ariel and Kinslee Hudson; in theory, he should have been an adult, like Sheila, since they’d have been born about the same time.

But the end result was a much older man. Victim of some unfortunate time vortex was Aurum’s guess.
He supposed it was magic, especially since both of his parents had ended up fairies. Somehow, he’d ended up older than them, which stunk of unfairness; in general, he had no truck with magic.
This wasn’t a point in his favor with Aurum, and so she decided to buckle down and consider his viability as a candidate for this scheme of hers. Because, really, what was the point of having a long-time best friend if you weren’t doing science to him?


Oddly enough, he passed her tests, and she determined he was not a threat, dislike his magical misgivings, to herself or her family. That he’d long stagnated at home, and his condition could only be improved by spending his last days in some sort of independence.


Getting a little freedom from his magically-inclined, still youthful parents? Sounded good to him. Maybe it’d give him the chance to find a little love with his life, or something. If all the rent he’d have to pay was house chores, well – that sounded just fine.
And so, a deal was struck.

Now, a little confession: I cannot find many records about this guy; at least, none my patrons give me access to. His story is not supremely pertinent to family record, except to note that it occurred, so that’s what I have. For the most part, he was a visitor in the house. He cooked meals – though he was bad at it – he did some laundry – he tended to matters… And he got on with his life. He was, by all accounts, the roommate you do not know is there most of the time.
This is infuriating to me on a lot of levels, but I’ll try and amend matters with items from the public record as I can, because even if he has little role in the story of the Alchimia family’s path to gold, he still had something. He was alive, and loved, and had dreams and desires, most of which he was likely too late to fulfill. He steamed with old resentment and new tempers, and to abandon it wholly on grounds of ‘relevance’ steams me over … But I am also bound to tell only what I can verify, or what I believe. So I apologize, to him, at least, if he makes few appearances in this account.

This was not the only solution Aurum had in mind for the house’s woes, however. As for what else she did? Well, for that, we have to understand a bit more about Venus, for on her behalf such a thing was done.
…I admit, as someone who has taken up the mantle of a historian, however ill-fitting it is on my shoulders, that I am not looking forward to this.