Chapter 20: A Toast to ArielAnyone watching, any ordinary person of Riverview spying on their neighbors, would have thought this was an ordinary day. An ordinary pair of birthdays at this, a household where all birthdays run together.
And they would be mistaken; critically mistaken. Few days in the history of sims will compare with this one.
But it starts like almost an other day in the Seraphim household:
With Uriel screaming about a gnome.
"Defiler! Get away from Norman's grave! Don't you be doing gnome rituals in a bizarre attempt to revive him as a zombie to do your bidding!"
It is perhaps not his snappiest wail, but he puts his usual effort into it.
"What are you talking about, Uriel...?" The lady of the house, the former angel Ariel, murmurs as she tries to rise out of bed. Her husband reaches a hand to stop her from leaving their bed.
She looks out at the scene causing a ruckus from her balcony.
"Aww, look. He's paying his respects. My Shang Simla tour book said that the custom was to leave food or flowers as an offering -- do you think he's left a little bit of gnome-food?"
"...When we've got zombies, I am sooo telling you I told you so."
Yes, it starts out completely normally. And then, starting out subtly, things begin to change from the ordinary.
This starts with Ariel calling for time off -- she has a busy day ahead of her. In her heart, she's already felt her last day of working at the towers was days ago.
Her first task of the day is to plant those exotic fruits she found, her cherries and pomelos and luscious red pomegranates, with their seeds like white teeth in red gums.
Her final challenge, completed. For a moment, she stands in her garden and dreams of the trees that will grow -- that she will watch grow. Because she knows there are no barriers in her way now.
As one thing draws towards an end, another begins -- her daughter accepts a career in architecture. Perhaps, at one point, she will actually build houses for people.
But given Aster, perhaps that would be not a good idea.
Ariel, at home, claps in celebration of her final birthday.
It always ruins the hair, doesn't it? Still, little aches and bothers are just part of getting old -- that's what they say, anyway.
But with her hair restored (and maybe given a touch more color), she seems to have aged gracefully enough. The future seems a little less scary, at the least.
And the girl's future seems very bright: In one day, she's earned her first promotion.
Besides her, her father works on Ariel's final portrait. Behind him, the subject looks on happily as she quits her job after-all; the family doesn't need the money so much, in the end.
And she uses the time she's not needed for posing to join a new career -- one motivated not by need, but by honest love. She is Ariel Seraphim, professional gardener.
Understandably, she feels inspired as she poses for her sculpture.
Outside is a less subtle juxtaposition of mother and child.
"Reed," says the boy's aging mother softly, stopping the play of his guitar, "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday...And say how proud I was of you and your music. I spent a long time too afraid to chase my dreams -- I'm happy that you're following your heart."
The boy, used to being more impressed by others than he ever has been thinking of himself as impressive, blushes and stutters out his thanks. He gives his mother a warm hug.
After all, it is his birthday -- and he spends it in the art room, as he has birthdays past, with his ladyfriend clapping him on.
The young man of the house is a handsome fellow. Aster bewails his lack of a hat, though he does decide to wear a second ordinary day outfit inspired by her tastes...
"The goggles do something," he explains to his perplexed mother, "they make the girl I love happy."
It seems as if he's become quite the Family-Oriented young man.
And nothing else happens in the house that night. Nothing for a long time. But today is a day of beginnings and endings -- and as the end of the day begins, a dish is pulled out of the replicator.
The dish is carried to a special room downstairs, where a single table at a single chair has been set up.
And Ariel, carrying that special dish, looks out over her recent past -- her past as a sim. She sees them all and loves them:
The dazzling former angel, slightly unsure of the world. Where she was light, it threw the darkness into such sharp relief. She is the one who looks at herself from across time and smiles, very faintly;
The beautiful mother and career woman, clearer for her recentness, captured in ice;
The quavery her of just this afternoon, folding herself into a series of small points. Perhaps because she is newer, like a butterfly still soggy-winged from the chrysalis.
She was so human then, and she knows she will never be truly an angel after being those women; but nor, after tonight, will she ever be so human again.
"I've changed," she says to the only person awake in her house; she says to the sleepless angel.
"...Maybe a little. I like it, you know that," He wishes he could put a hand on her shoulder, as she always did for him when he was doubting. "But we did it, babe. We've done it."
"Yes, yes we have. We've done it; all of us."
And she sits down to eat.
Many people will say ambrosia tastes bad -- but to Ariel, there is nothing sweeter in all the world. It tastes like home, like nectar from a distant garden that waits, like patient Argus, for its master to return. It is hibiscus-honey and the scent of jasmine and sweet olive.
Ariel has found her divinity again, as it rushes around her like laughing children; she is immortal, from now until the end of days.
In that moment, her eyes catch upwards, and she sees me, staring down at her from the other end of a long, dark tunnel. She is powerless before me, and it turns her blood cold to realize that even in this moment, I am watching.
But for right now, I merely raise my hand in greeting, as the moment of perfect vision closes.
Ariel, dear Ariel; you and I were never precisely 'close.' All the same, you were the sweetest of the angels, and it was your want to learn all our stories. If you knew my story -- that all your efforts are a step in a single, great plan for me -- would you still have come this far?
I pray so. I need you.
Who am I, you ask? Who am I, telling you of this, Ariel Seraphim's triumph and last day as a mortal?
...Just consider me an interested watcher. Pay no attention to me. Instead, let us give a toast.
To Ariel Seraphim, the first immortal.
Requirements
Ariel Seraphim - complete!Lifetime Wish: The Perfect GardenCareer: Business Supermax Skill: GardeningBuilding, Property: Divisario Budget Books, Lost Willow ParkLTR: Super Green Thumb, No Bills Ever, Collection HelperBest Friends: Billy (Caspian) Seraphim, Elaine Joy, Aster Seraphim, Laurel Grisby, Fatima Simovitch, Tom Shallow, Larry Cooper, Anita and Carlotta Lobos, Constance Shelly, Chandra JacobsinBlack Ops: Amateur Olympics, Making Coffee the Executive Way, Seeking More Favorable Taxes, Making Nice with the Newsies, Political Influence, Uncommonly Good, Outflanking the MilitaryPortraits:YA, Adult, ElderSculptures/Photos: Adult (Sculp), Elder (sculp)
