Chapter 49
August 16th - Silveracre
Kismette
Kismette strolled along the cobbled path, relaxed. There was simply no match for the hospitality of villagers. The moment the innkeeper saw their half-dried clothes, she ushered them upstairs for a warm bath and found them fresh clothes and mugs of piping hot tea.
It would have been awkward but, thankfully, the inn only had single rooms. She squeezed her hand lightly and felt him squeeze hers back in response and she grinned, never feeling more blissful than this moment in her life.
Exploring Silveracre tonight reminded her how carefree it was to live in a village. Funny, though-she would never have thought of her life as ‘carefree’ back then.
Perhaps the huge difference between the capital and the far edges of the country was a good thing after all. Cities evolved so fast while the countryside was perpetually stuck in time, always outdated and inefficient in the eyes of the urban dwellers. She had gotten used to the conveniences and comforts of her new life without realising it. Now, knowing the existence of them all, would she choose to revert to her old days?
“This place hasn’t changed much,” Zaelem mumbled, more to himself than to her. ”Everybody still goes home by sunset, this family still hangs their laundry here and that family still sells baskets-oh, wait. Some repainted their houses.”
“Wow, that is huge,” Kismette pointed at a bell hung inside a white building. “What’s that place for?”
“Ah, that’s the atrium for holding all sorts of ceremonies or celebrations,” he explained as they strolled towards it. “I don’t think anyone ever gave it a proper name. My parents got married here. My brothers probably got married there too… though I never got to attend their weddings.”
He paused, pensive. It felt soothing to uncover things buried deep within him. “Every time a family had a baby, they would come here to ring the bell-once for a girl, twice for a boy. My father let me ring the bell when my younger brother was born. I was so excited to finally get to do something only adults did, but later that day, my mother died from excessive loss of blood.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and pulled him in for a hug.
He gave her a tiny smile and wrapped his hands around her. “It’s alright. It tied my brothers and I together much stronger.”
“So why did you choose to leave? I mean, Reensville has had bad harvests before too, but farmers don’t just abandon their fields.”
He released her and inhaled deeply as he stared at the moon through the stained glass window. Such a pity it was, spoiling this beautiful night with such an unappetising topic.
He finally relented. “Do you know who Mejaine is?”
Kismette’s eyes slid to the side as she tapped her lips. “Uh huh.” The evil porcelain doll.
“You see, she was from Silveracre too. We were an item then-it’s all in the past now-but she came from a richer family than I did, so I wanted to make sure that I made enough before marrying her. I left home for her when she went Grythen to chase her dreams of becoming a dancetress. She started out with a huge debt, so I worked doubly hard to support her and soon forgot all about my family.” He let out a long sigh. “It can be so easy to forget the years when you don’t see their marks on your face.”
“It was during a summer break, between the end of the last training and the next one to come, when I suddenly realized it had been decades since I last saw my family. I went home, only to find my father already six feet under and both my brothers with a foot in the grave too. They were shocked that I barely aged. They kept waiting for me to come back but I never did. They never saw the note I left them.”
The warrior buried his face in his hands, deeply ashamed of himself. “My eldest brother yelled at me and scared the hell out of me. He was never the type to raise his voice. He was coughing and wheezing so hard I thought he would die from overexerting himself. And I will never forget what he said to me that day. I never found the courage to face them again and it’s all too late now.”
Kismette licked her lips, wishing she could say something. Goosebumps dotted her skin all the way down her arms. Just as she was about to reach out and pat his shoulder, he continued, his voice barely a thin, hoarse whisper, “My brother, he said to me, ‘You may be a lover, a husband or even a father, but don’t you ever forget that first and foremost and no matter what happens, you are a son.’ ”
September 1st - Grythen
Evelynn
Evelynn twirled around in a shimmery gown, her arms poised on an imaginary dance partner. She paused when she caught her reflection in the mirror.
She stared at her reflection in disdain. It was not even her wedding dress. It was Kismette’s unwanted wedding dress, with last minute customisations to fit her instead.
She stared at the room she was in, suddenly lost. Where was she? Panicking, she hurried to the first door she saw and stepped through it.
She paused. This was the Viken manor. She peered around her. Her father-in-law insisted that the newlyweds live on the ground floor so that she could avoid the stairs when her belly gets heavy. She grinned, ecstatic. She was a Viken now.
The corners of her mouth drooped abruptly; she remembered it all now.
Chairon vehemently refused to cooperate and threatened to walk out in the middle of the wedding. “I will make things even uglier than it already is,” he had warned. Even mother dear couldn’t talk him round.
“No wedding. Not even a ring. Just a photo shoot and a piece of paper with words I can’t even read,” she murmured to herself as she retreated into their room, catching the sight of their wedding photo encased in a large, gilded border. Even the photographer gave up asking them to stand closer. The most distinctive sound she could remember was Annie crying like Chairon died. “This is it. This is it, baby,” she whispered a little louder, rubbing her belly.
Her eyes fell on their new bed and she half-smiled, its white frame standing handsomely below their wedding photo. It was the only thing she asked for, which James delivered without an ounce of hesitation. She couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in a bed which other girls have slept in before. Have Kismette slept in his bed too? Her nails began to dig at the flesh of her other hand. Do I attract him as much as all the other girls did? What made him hop off my bed like he was scalded? Did he think I am… dirty?
“Shit, stop wearing that dress again!”
Evelynn whirled around. “Chairon, I… I…”
“Enough,” her husband huffed and held out a hand, signalling for her to stop. He headed straight for the couch with his magazine.
She blinked to clear the moisture in her eyes before pulling her lips into a cheery smile. Sooner or later, I will get used to this and smiling will no longer feel so tiring.
Her gaze fell on the butter knife Chairon left from his previous meal. He never bothered to keep their room clean. She crept towards the knife. Or, maybe, I can carve the smile into my cheeks.
“Stop smiling all the time! What is there to smile at? You’re creepy, you know that? Wipe that smirk off your face right now!” Chairon yelled. “I can’t even stand being in the same room as you.” He threw his magazine down and stormed out of the door.
Evelynn swallowed as a lump rose in her throat, but she continued smiling. She even crinkled her eyes so that her smile felt real. Practice makes perfect. Her feet began to shuffle to the steps committed to her memory. Dancing never failed to soothe her.
As long as I have him by my side, everything will be alright.
Just as long as I have him.
Chairon
Just my luck to be forced into marrying a crazy bitch.
Chairon slammed his car door shut. He did not have anywhere to go, but he was beginning to tire of drifting mindlessly. The roads were endless. It was too early for the bars to open, but no way in hell would he be heading back home. Beware of women, they have always said. The prettier she is, the more you shouldn’t trust her.
Perhaps he had really gone too far this time round. Denying her a proper wedding, the only thing she ever wanted, was cruel, but how could he bear to make her happy? How could he forgive her for setting off this chain of events that made him lose Kismette? He wanted revenge. He needed revenge to douse that fire in his soul.
It had been five days since he married Evelynn. Five hellish days. Every few nights, she would wake up, screaming from a nightmare, crying and afraid that she would find his side of the bed empty. He told her that she might just find him dead in his side of the bed one fine day. That gave her even worse nightmares instead.
He entered the small café and simply stood there, breathing deeply, observing people, noticing the minute details of the café decoration. He had to get some time away from her or he would go crazy too. There were newspapers, books and magazines here: enough for him to while away some time until nightlife begins.
Ah, coffee… truly the wine of the bean.
Just when he thought he could finally relax, a revolting scene entered his line of sight: Zaelem and Kismette strolling down the street, hand in hand, laughing and nudging each other like sick little puppies.
September 2nd - Grythen
Zaelem
Zaelem grinned as he viewed his score card. His accuracy had improved by quite a fair bit since the last time he trained.
He exited the shooting area and reloaded his airgun when something from behind shot the tip of his gun and sent it flying out of his hands. He turned around, annoyed. What the…
The barrel of another airgun was pointed just inches away from his nose. He leapt back immediately and checked out the owner of the gun. Chairon.
The seething man did not move nor say a word. Zaelem rolled his eyes. They both knew guns could barely hurt him. “What?”
“You still have the cheek to ask? I’ve always thought you had this thing called ‘honour’, but really, you’re pathetic. You pick up the scraps that I leave,” the other Wesarsh spat.
Zaelem crossed his arms. “If you want to talk, put your gun down.”
“I’m not here to talk, you wuss! You were waiting for me to fall, waiting for a chance to seize her from me aren’t you?”
Zaelem opened his mouth, but pressed his lips firmly together. He cannot even begin to say how ridiculous that sounded, when Chairon was the one given the chance first.
“Lost for words? Got nothing more to say in your favour?”
Zaelem did not retaliate and looked elsewhere instead, waiting patiently. Chairon hurled the gun onto the floor. It made him seem like the lesser one, as though Zaelem was trying to avoid conflict with a five-year-old, infusing further rage in him.
With a shaking finger, he pointed at the other man dangerously. “I’ll get rid of you, asshole. You will pay. I swear I’ll make you pay.”
Zaelem stared as Chairon’s soles clicked angrily down the concrete floor, feeling a little unsettled. He was not a coward, but the Vikens do have a way of getting what they want.
Ning: Um… I actually have no real knowledge of what type of guns they use in an airgun shooting range as well as how the range operates, so please don't laugh at me. :P
Some extra piccys:
Chairon and Evelynn's wedding photo. :(
You know what makes it even sadder? (Please excuse the lousy picture. :P)
Chairon doesn't like Evelynn even in the sim world. O_O (The ring on Chairon's hand was actually his engagement ring with Kismette, heh. Apparently, changing relationship statuses in simPE doesn't get the ring update in the game.)
Just a heads up, my side of the world will be celebrating Chinese New Year starting from the 23rd of January! (YAY! :D) I'll be baking like a fiend this coming weekend (my family is hosting this year) and probably go around visiting on the next, so that leaves me with no time to prepare an update. :( Chapter 50 will, at best, be out in 3 weeks' time. But, uh, looking at the speed at which my screenshots are taken, I think I will need 4 weeks. Omg. :S
P.S. Ikea furniture ROCKS, haha. ♥
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Next: Chapter 50