A Discworldly Legacy - Chapter 14: Learning To Live
Welcome to Chapter 14 everyone, sorry it's been such a long time in the making. I had my degree to finish off (WOO!) and I was tied up in November with NaNoWriMo. Fun times. But here we are, and that's what matters! This chapter is entitled Learning To Live, because our D-gen girls are growing up and figuring themselves out, AND it's an awesome song by Dream Theater. Win Win.
Last time ended with Brutha having a troubling vision of Diamanda's future which left the whole family wondering what was going on.
Onwards!
"...and that's why I'm not allowed in Djelibeybi any more. How was I supposed to know the guy with the golden mask was the big kahuna, anway? No one tells me anything. People these days, so touchy about little things like Pharaohs and rulers and gods in human form.
Well, since we can't stay at the inn any longer, we've set up camp on a sand dune. Vena said we need a high vantage point just in case they send the cavalry after us me. Not the brightest idea if you ask me, the wind gusts up here like you wouldn't..."
Just then, the wind gusted up the dune like you wouldn't believe, carrying with it a million grains of sand. Cohen dropped the journal and stood, shaking sand out of his hair in frustration.
"Gods, and I just washed it too. I'll never find Pantene out here," he lamented. "Stupid Klatch and its stupid deserts and its stupid uptight citizens..."
He rubbed his eyepatch experimentally. "Damn. And I've got sand in my patch."
He removed the patch and brushed off the worst of the granules, pocketing it for safe keeping. He massaged around his eye, clearing away the slick of sweat and sand that had gathered there. The Klatchian air was hot and seemed to crackle in Cohen's lungs with every breath, but the breeze still felt fresh and soothing on his face with the patch off.
It hadn't been Cohen's idea to come back to Klatch. He thought it a scorched, ruthless corner of the Disc, but when the woman you adore has her heart set on it, what else can you do?
Cohen pulled the eyepatch back out of his pocket and was about to put it on when an unexpected movement caught his eye.
The dune was situated right next to an old graveyard. It made Cohen uneasy but he didn't want to admit it and Vena had been quite insistent that they needed to be able to see in all directions. It was a lonely, empty place of memories in the middle of the desert. Except that now, it wasn't empty.
A pale, ghostly form in a red dress stood by one of the tombstones. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Must be a mirage.
The wisp was still there, and much as Cohen tried to tell himself otherwise, was staring straight at him.
Throat uncomfortably dry, Cohen tried to call out. "H-hello?"
"Who are you talking to, babe?"
Cohen heard the crunch of sand behind him, but was too transfixed and muddled to turn around.
"Luckily, I wasn't instigated in your terrible crime against the Pharaoh and I actually managed to buy us some food." She paused. "No need to thank me, really."
Vena snapped her fingers impatiently. "Hey, Cohen! Talk to me!"
She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, grinning playfully. Cohen's eyes gradually focused on her face.
"Hi," Vena said, "Remember me? Look, I've got sausages and bread and some fruit juice and- something wrong?"
"Vena. Do you see...down there, in the graveyard?"
"Of course I do. Let's stay up here though, those things have all sorts of nasty diseases. Bad-tempered little bastards, too."
Cohen stared at her, agawk. "They...are? I didn't realise."
"I thought everyone knew that. The Klatchian Desert Weasel is the most unpleasant mustelid you'll find anywhere-"
"Wait, what? No, that's not what I meant, Vee."
Vena shrugged. "Well, there's nothing else down there."
Cohen watched as the figure collapsed, curling up into a ball against the tombstone and rocking gently back and forth.
"Are you alright, hon? You're acting kind of strange," Vena asked, concern in her voice.
He tore his eyes away. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think the heat is playing tricks on my head...did you say you brought fruit juice?"
Vena put down the plastic bag and withdrew a large bottle of apple juice. "Where would you be without me?"
"Somewhere else. With less sand, less sun, and easier access to proper haircare products."
After taking a swig of juice, he put his eyepatch back on and stole another glance at the graveyard - the figure was gone. Ah well, maybe it was just the heat.
"I still can't believe you asked the Pharaoh where the public restrooms are. You're lucky to be alive."
"Look, I thought he was a tourist information guy, okay?"
"He wears a mask made out of gold!"
"...That's why I thought he was a tourist information guy. I figured it was to wow easily-impressed travellers."
"And the heavily armoured guard didn't tip you off? Really?"
"Have you rubbed it in sufficiently yet, Miss Hedge?"
Vena smiled affectionately. "Almost. Did you finish writing everything in your little diary for today?"
"It's a journal, Vee. Girls write in diaries, manly men write in journals. And nearly, I still have a little bit to go."
"Hurry up, then. I have a big night planned involving you, me and a big bag of marshmallows under the stars."
Cohen hurriedly finished scribbling the half-completed sentence he'd left dangling earlier, and started a new paragraph.
"Something happened today, and I don't know what to make of it. Common sense tells me it's my imagination, but common sense doesn't always have the answers. I can't be certain of what I saw, but what I think I saw was the spirit of a woman in the graveyard at the foot of the dune, watching me.
There's a distinct possibility I'm going crazy. Vena couldn't see her, so why could I? Since then, I've looked for her but have seen nothing. I don't understa-"
Cohen's pen fell still as two cogs meshed in his head. Wait. Just a minute here. Wait. It's happened before. It's happened before, but I didn't realise. Last time...
The force of the blow had knocked his eyepatch clean off, and left him addled and confused. There was far too much adrenaline pumping through his system at the time for him to process what he was seeing, and he was too busy trying to stay alive to take it in. He hadn't so much as thought about it until this very moment, when, all at once, he saw the link.
"The entire clearing. Filled with dead spirits. Adventurers who had tried to take Bigfoot's treasure. I wasn't wearing my patch. Just now I took it off because of the sand. My left eye isn't blinded; it just sees the world differently."
Too overwhelmed by the revelation to write anymore, Cohen closed the journal. "Well, this is a turn of events," he mumbled.
There was a high-pitched scream and Cohen turned to Vena, who was still sprawled on the sand.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
"It was just the wind, babe. Gods, you're so jumpy today."
"Yeah... jumpy..." Cohen said, fighting to order his thoughts. "So, about those plans of yours involving you, me and a bag of marshmallows under the sky?"
"Hello?"
"Mr DeRonde," McGraw's voice trembled with the pent-up stress and excitement, much as she fought to keep it calm. "The formula: it works. I've done it. We're ready to go."
She could practically hear his lupine smile down the phone line. "This is excellent news; well done. I take it I can trust you to get started on the next step?"
"Of course. We'll be ready to launch a week from now, I promise."
The morning sun dribbled in through the window, stirring Adrienne awake. She glanced to her right; Brutha was still fast asleep. Slowly and tenderly, she reached out and wrapped an arm around him. Without waking, Brutha snuggled closer and draped an arm over her in turn.
Adrienne smiled. He seemed so peaceful now, but only a few hours ago he was painting frantically and screaming something about choices and destiny (and, for some strange reason, cocker spaniels. But that was far less worrying than the other stuff).
What did you see, Brutha? What could it mean for our granddaughter; for our family?
Downstairs, Debbie was getting ready for work while her wife fretted around the kitchen.
"Just relax, Cheery. It could be nothing, you never know," Debbie said, as Cheery completed her seventh circuit.
"But what if it's not? Debbie, I'm scared for her; mum says he's never had a vision so intense before, and to me that suggests it's something big." Cheery paused, chewing on her thumbnail. "I just...what if it's her- her father? She still doesn't know. What if he comes for her? What if he - I don't know - turns her into the next Death? She's happy now, for the first time in her life. I don't want that taken away from her."
Debbie pulled her into a warm hug, staunching the flow of worries.
"You can't know for sure, and speculating will just make you upset. Are you going to tell her?"
"Tell her what?" Cheery asked.
"Everything. About her parentage, about your father's vision, just...everything."
Cheery mulled it over. "Yes. In time. Let her enjoy her teen years for now, though; she has too much joi de vivre to burden her with such thoughts."
Indeed, Diamanda was enjoying a weightlessness-of-mind she never had the chance to experience as a child. It was as if her world had expanded the moment she became a teen. She had picked up an interest in how the world worked, and often spent many hours when she should be in bed gazing through the eyepiece of a telescope.
She had questions - so many questions - about life and death, stars and oceans, and the magnificent white horse that visited her all those years ago. Where did it come from, and why did she feel she knew it? She had questions about herself, her family and the people around her. What was the "shroud" that Druellae had talked to her about, and why - with the exception of the stallion - did animals detest her so heartily?
But the million dollar question was this: How would she go on her first day of high school?
(Diamanda's OTH is Science. Since I don't think of her as a geek-chic/nerdy character, instead she's a curious, questioning soul. M'kay?)
Moments before the bus arrived on Monday morning, Diamanda stood before the family wishing well with a coin clenched in her fingers and her eyes screwed shut.
Please, let this be the turning point in my life. Don't let me mess this up. I want this so badly. Please.
She dropped the coin and waited to hear the splash. Just then the bus showed up, the horn blaring its impatience.
Diamanda couldn't stop her heart from hammering against her ribcage as she mounted the steps, but she refused outright to let her lack of confidence show. That's what the old Diamanda would have done; New Diamanda was different. Old Diamanda was afraid of burning herself on the fire of life, but New Diamanda grabbed the flame with both hands. New Diamanda was self-assured, witty, intelligent, popular, even a little flirtatious.
...I hope.
When she got home, the New Diamanda was ecstatic. Her day couldn't have gone better. All of the horrible kids who made her early life hell had either transferred to different high schools or didn't share any of her classes, so it was easy enough to steer clear. She'd met a few people who she was sure would become her friends and in a moment of giddy boldness, she'd swapped cellphone numbers with a boy she sat behind in Science.
She took pleasure in how easily all of today's social interactions flowed; if anyone had been affected by the "Shroud", they did a pretty damn fine job of covering it up. Fresh, revitalising energy was surging through her blood, and it felt fantastic.
One thing was for certain: Old Diamanda was dead and gone, a wraith of the past.
It was late afternoon when Cheery sought out her father, who was reading in the sun, and gave him a meaningful glance. The time had come to pay a visit to a straggling branch of the family tree. (That was a pune, or play on words. Get it? Ah? Ah?)
"This is the place?" asked Brutha, as they approached the Maxis-made abomination on the edge of town.
Cheery knocked on the wood of the door and waited, but there was no response. She knocked again and called, "Uncle Bel? You home? It's Cheery and Brutha, we've come to see you!"
Brutha shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe he's not in."
Cheery shot him a glance. "We're talking about the same Belafon, right? You know, the shut-in? He must be here."
"But...Cheery, look at the windows. They're all boarded up. That may suggest he's moved away," said Brutha patiently, gesturing at the thick, wooden planks nailed roughly over the glass.
"That is strange, I admit," Cheery said. "I guess...I guess he's not in there, since PlantSims need sun to...unless..." an impossible thought crashed into her brain like an arrow of ice.
"Dad. We need to get into this house, right now!" she said urgently.
She tried the handle and found it locked.
"Bel! Bel? Are you in there? Answer me!" Cheery shouted. She glared at the door, then lined up for a better shot.
"Cheery, don't-!" Brutha warned.
Her foot lashed out and hit the door with surprising force. With a protesting, metallic squeal, the lock relented and the door swung inwards. Cheery rushed inside, followed by her father, but the sight that met her made her breath catch in her throat.
A pale, withered form lay slumped in the corner of the room, unmoving and showing no signs of life.
"Bel!" Cheery cried, rushing to his side and kneeling down as tears pricked her eyes. "He-he boarded up the windows to block out the sun so he would...so he would die. Why would he do something like that? Why would you do something like that?" Her voice rose to a fever pitch as emotions overwhelmed her.
Brutha leaned forward and ran a hand over the dry, curling leaves on Belafon's head. "Cheery, he's not dead. We can still help him."
"Then we will. Quick: go into the bathroom, run a cold bath and tear down the boards over the windows. We need to get him into the sun and he needs water."
As Brutha dashed off to do as she said, Cheery hauled the lethargic Belafon into a sitting position and picked him up in a fireman's hold, staggering a little under his weight.
Cheery got him into the bathroom without much trouble and lowered him into the rapidly-filling bath, clothes and all. She watched him anxiously for any sign of change, but he didn't stir as the water washed over him.
"Dad, why isn't he getting better? He should be getting better," Cheery whispered after a few minutes had passed.
"Give it time; you need to let the water seep through his system. That won't happen immediately," said Brutha soothingly.
Sighing heavily, Cheery sat back on the bathroom floor to wait. Minutes whirred away like dragonflies in the sun and Cheery soon grew impatient again.
"He's not improving," she said finally, standing up. "We don't know how long he's been lying in the dark like that; it could be days. We could be too late to save him this way. But I know another way that might work." With that, she strode back into the main room.
She returned a few seconds later with the Plantophic-C to find Belafon struggling into a sitting position and the water level drastically reduced.
"I appreciate the thought, Cheery," he said in a voice as dry as parchment. "But please, get away from me with that bottle. I'd rather die a PlantSim than live as a Sim any day."
Slightly shamefaced, Cheery lowered the bottle. "You're- you're okay," she said, relieved. "Why did you do this to yourself, Bel?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Belafon said quietly, as his thirsty pores drained the last of the water. "I've never been in control of my life; I thought at the very least I could control my death, but apparently I can't even do that."
Cheery's heart wrenched in her chest as she thought of how to phrase her reply. "Belafon, I know it's not been easy for you, and I'm so sorry we haven't been there to support you when you needed it, but we can get you through this, I know we can. We-"
"-It's not just that," said Belafon, setting his leaves a-rustle with a shake of his head. "Give me a moment and I'll tell you everything. I'd like to have another soak first."
"As long as you don't try to do anything stupid again," Cheery warned.
Belafon managed a dark grin. "Not to worry; you managed to unravel about five days' work in all of twenty minutes. I'm no longer in any immediate danger so I guess I'll resign myself to that for now."
"Tell us, then," said Brutha about ten minutes later as they sat together in the sun outside Belafon's house. "Tell us why you were... were so intent on ending your life."
It was the first time Belafon had been outside for weeks, and in front of his house at that. Under the circumstances, he couldn't care less about the gaze of onlookers. He breathed deep before answering, his senses revelling in the warmth and splendour of the afternoon.
"The years since my children left have been difficult for me, but I have refrained from seeding more," he said eventually. "I think that is for the best. I have been...surviving since that day, though I would not call it living. But then, a few days ago, something arrived. Something that changed everything, that made me lose what scrap of hope I had remaining of ever being treated as an equal."
He produced a crumpled pile of mail, gripping the letters loosely in both hands. "You see, in amongst the usual assortment of junk mail and bills was a flyer from a company called The Handy Vine." He opened the torn envelope and tossed over the folded paper it contained. "I'll let you read it yourselves. I can't bear to look at it any more."
Cherry perused the flyer and immediately saw how it had pushed Belafon over the edge. She flipped it over to see if there was anything on the other side before answering.
"Belafon... This is terrible."
"You understand why I did what I did, then?"
"Don't for a minute think I condone it," Cheery said sternly. "But yes, I do. These people - The Handy Vine - are degrading your whole race and turning them into nothing more than servants."
"Or worse," said Belafon darkly.
"That's despicable," Brutha growled. "But how is this possible? Apart from our own family, I didn't realise there were any PlantSims even living in Ankh Morpork."
"That is the question," Cheery agreed. She held up the flyer and said, "Look - the contact details: Katy McGraw. That's the Garden Club member I- I tracked down for Larkspur and Aspen all those years ago." Her mouth went dry as she spoke the words, remembering the betrayal she had perpetrated against Belafon.
"Maybe we should talk to her, then," said Brutha.
"Perhaps. I'd also like to talk to Larkspur, see if she knows anything about this. There must be a link; there must be."
Belafon shook his head mournfully. "I don't expect you two to fight for me. I'm not worth it. Besides, after this there's not really any hope for me. I'm not being depressive; I'm just being realistic."
"Don't start, Belafon," Brutha said sharply. "You're family - my brother - and we've done too little for you over the years. We're going to help you; the way we should have been all this time."
"If you're sure that's what you want to do, I won't stop you. But I have no expectations for what you'll achieve, that is all."
"Much obliged," Cheery said with a smile. "For now, we need to get you out of this house. You've been on your own far too long, and I think I know just the place for you."
"You really don't mind?" Belafon asked, wide-eyed.
Bilious merely grinned. "Just how many times have I asked you to come and live with me?" he asked. "What I want to know is why it's taken this long, and why it was necessary for Cheery to get involved."
Belafon looked at his hands. "I have not been well these past few days-"
"-I realise. But you're here now, and that's the most important thing." Bilious turned to Cheery and Brutha. "Do you want to stay a while? I could give you a tour of the new place."
"That's very kind of you, but we need to get home. It's Dibbler and Druellae's birthday and there'll be hell to pay if we're not there," said Brutha.
"Literally. Dibbler is imposing fines for anyone arriving late to family events," said Cheery.
"In that case, it was nice to see you, and enjoy the birthday," Bilious said, sending them off with a wave.
The birthday was a small affair, with only the immediate family and a certain Simself in attendance. Thankfully, Dibbler didn't have to invoke the full power of the Late-To-Birthday clause and a good time was had by all, except Dibbler did seem a bit disappointed.
Both girls paused momentarily to consider their wishes.
I wish for money. Bucket loads of money. Cart loads of money. No, a swimming pool of money! Like Scrooge McDuck. Yeeaah.
I wish for peace on earth, environmental harmony, and safety for all aquatic mammals. Nothing big.
Highly dubious wishes aside, the pseudo-twins grew into a pair of gorgeous young women with the highly-praised Discworld ability to party hard.
Druellae decided the biggest thing in her life was her family. She didn't leave her love of animals and the natural world behind with her childhood, however, and made it her goal in life to provide a loving home for cats and dogs of all persuasions.
Dibbler, to no one's surprise, showed a certain affinity for making money and her proposed methods were curiously devious: she planned on using animals to augment her income by involving them in their own career paths.
(Someone give me a hard piece of wood, that I may pound my head on it. Druellae's LTW is to raise 20 puppies or kittens, Dibbler's is to get 6 pets to the top of their careers. What an annoying batch of LTWs I have this generation.)
Butterflies clustered in Diamanda's stomach as she read over and over the text message she had just received. It read:
'Hey diamanda its Aiden remember me? Was wonderin if u wanted 2 meet 4 lunch this arvo. Allgoods if ur busy tho. :)'
Diamanda trembled slightly as she contemplated the correct tone to respond with. She didn't want to come across too eager, but she didn't want to appear too casual or he'd lose interest. After reflecting on it for a good five minutes, she chastised herself. Over-analysing something like this was what Old Diamanda would do. Without thinking, she tapped out a reply:
'I would love to. :) Where would you like to meet?'
Then she went back over it and dumbed it down, changing the to's to 2's and the you to a u, to better mirror his texting style.
The reply arrived a few minutes later:
'Haha cool how bout Cafe 125?'
Diamanda's heart leapt when she saw Aiden waiting outside Cafe One-Twenty-Five; confident as she'd been that he'd meant it, Old Diamanda was still locked inside her somewhere, telling her it was all a cruel joke to play with her feelings. Take that, Old Diamanda.
"Hey, thanks for coming," Aiden said, stammering out the words.
"No, thank you!" said Diamanda, at a loss for what else she could say. "I guess we should go get a seat then. You hungry?" Stupid question; it was lunchtime. Of course he was.
"Starving. How about we sit outside? It's a beautiful day," Aiden suggested.
"Great idea! I'd love that!" Diamanda said, hating how over-enthusiastic and artificial her voice sounded.
After they had ordered their meals, Aiden turned to her and started to speak, hesitantly at first but growing in confidence.
"I'm really glad you agreed to come out with me. I haven't been in Ankh-Morpork long y'see, and I don't know many people yet."
"Where are you from?" Diamanda asked, glad of a conversation topic.
"Genua. Same as my dad. My mum's from Lancre. She's gone back there now, and I've moved here with my dad." He smiled sadly. "He said we couldn't stay in Genua; said there were too many memories."
Diamanda bit her lip. "That must be hard for you, losing your mother and starting over in a new place."
"A bit, but it could be worse," Aiden grinned. "What about you, then?"
"Me? Oh. I'm from a Legacy family. We've been in Ankh-Morpork for generations, so this is home for me."
"A Legacy family, huh? That must be cool. I imagine you must be friends with everyone here."
Diamanda shifted uncomfortably. "Um. Not exactly."
As their food arrived, Diamanda took the plunge. She needed to know.
"Look, Aiden. I have to ask you something, and it... it might sound strange. But you have to answer truthfully."
"Okay then, shoot."
"Do I... strike you as odd in any way? I don't make you - I don't know - feel strange, or uncomfortable? Anything like that at all?"
Aiden answered carefully. "No, you don't make me feel anything of the sort. Why?"
"No reason! Just wondering!" Diamanda replied quickly, shovelling chilli into her mouth and feeling something joyous buoying up inside her.
"I'll come clean with you, Diamanda," Aiden said. "I think you're cute, and I'd like to get to know you better. If you want me to, that is."
"Yes!" Diamanda gushed, then fretted that she may have answered too loudly and quickly. "Um. I mean, yes. I...I would like that very much."
"Awesome. Maybe living in Ankh-Morpork isn't going to be too bad after all."
The rest of the lunch passed pleasurably as the young pair got to know each other better. Aiden had left something of a troubled past behind him in Genua, but seemed intent not to let that hinder his life in Ankh-Morpork, something Diamanda thought admirable. Even with the meagre scraps of information she'd managed to scavenge off him, she already found herself empathising with him and as they paid and made their way for the door, she turned and grabbed him by the hand.
"Hey, I know we've literally only just met, but I really enjoyed your company and... I like you, is what I'm trying to say," Diamanda said, laughing nervously.
"You too?" said Aiden shyly.
"And I know it's quick, but... Do you want to make this official? You and me?"
"I was hoping you'd ask."
Diamanda breathed a sigh of relief. You've gone this far, you may as well take it a step further...
With the strength and confidence of New Diamanda surging through her system, she leant forwards and kissed Aiden softly on the lips; a kiss he gladly reciprocated. Privately, she blessed the person she had become and hoped Aiden - and everyone else - would never discover the person she used to be.
"Say, Ellie. I've been thinking a lot in the Scheming Chair lately-"
"-The armchair in your room?" Druellae smirked.
"Correct. I've been thinking about our lifetime wishes, and how there's no reason we shouldn't get started on them now. In fact, it's ridiculous we've waited this long to put things into action."
Druellae blinked. "But Dib, we only grew up two days ago..."
Dibbler threw her hands up. "Precisely!"
"Alright, I can't say I don't agree with you. And I really, really want a cat so... We'll need to convince our mothers, of course." She thought for a moment. "You deal with mum. I think I know how to convince other-mum."
"Right! We reconvene when Operation Feline is underway. Let's go," said Dibbler firmly.
That afternoon as Druellae worked in the greenhouse with Debbie after school as they often did, she broached the subject.
"Mum, you know the AMSPCA?" she said, as she cleared the weeds away from a young eggplant.
"The Ankh-Morpork Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals? What about it?"
"You know they have hundreds of cats and dogs who have been dumped or maltreated in bad homes, and they're so pushed for space... They're always looking for people to give them foster homes."
"Just what are you getting at, Druellae Deborah Discworld?" Debbie asked, in a voice which suggested she knew exactly what her daughter was on about.
"I'd really like to adopt a cat, mum. Dibbler wants one, too, so-"
"-Why would Dibbler be so interested in animal rights and preservation?" Debbie asked amusedly.
"Um, not the rights and preservation bits so much, but she has her reasons. So how about it? Wouldn't you like a cat, too?" Druellae asked, playing on her mother's shared love of animals and the natural world.
The look on Debbie's face told Druellae she'd won. "You'd have to ask Cheery, of course-"
"-Oh, I think she'll agree to it," said Druellae, thinking of her sister's persuasive powers when there was something she wanted.
"If that's the case, we'll go to the AMSPCA tomorrow and see what they have. But you and Dibbler are responsible for it, understood?"
"Completely!" Druellae cried, elated. "Thanks, mum!"
And so it was that Ksandra became a member of the Discworld clan. The moment the two girls entered the AMSPCA holding pens to be introduced to the cats, she had thrown herself at them in a purring, mewling mess of lovable grey fur and they immediately knew she was the one.
Dibbler wasted no time in finding the new addition a job in the line of Service, and she and Druellae shared the responsibility of training and feeding her, and keeping the litterbox clean. The job of keeping her plied with cuddles, however, was spread around the entire household.
The nightmares that had tormented Diamanda as a child had settled comfortably into the sands of time. She put it down to her new confidence casting out the faceless children that chased her in her dreams for so long, and allowing her to rest easy. In fact, it had been years since she'd had a real nightmare.
Until now.
Diamanda's eyelids creased and flickered as her sleeping consciousness battled with a dark, unknown presence. A slick of sweat shone on her forehead as the dream deepened and her lips parted in a silent cry. The presence became better defined, as though moving toward her through a tunnel. She saw a robe, a hooded face, a glint of bone, two burning points of blue fire...
The sight of those piercing blue eyes startled her awake and she jolted up with a scream, "Go away!"
She sat there, addled by the dream, her hair sticking damply to her skin, made clammy by chilly sweat.
Just a dream, she told herself, but the presence she felt so strongly in sleep was not waning; it was still there, filling her heart and bones with a sickening energy that seemed to hum and chatter in her very core.
"No!" The word was strangled by her tightening throat as she flung herself out of bed, somehow knowing exactly what was going on whilst simultaneously having no clue.
Outside in the hallway, Adrienne faced the cloaked figure and his scantily-clad lackeys with a frown.
"Look, this is highly inconvenient, I only got up to get a glass of water."
I FEAR THE SITUATION IS NON-NEGOTIABLE, MRS DISCWORLD.
"Can't I even change out of my nightdress? It's bloody embarrassing is all."
I AM AFRAID NOT.
"Can I at least say goodbye to my family? They're all asleep-"
Death gave an exasperated sigh. It sounded like desert sand scoured by a cold wind. IF YOU DO NOT MIND, MADAM, I HAVE A NUMBER OF JOBS TONIGHT, INCLUDING A PUB BRAWL IN THE SHADES DOWNTOWN. THEY TEND TO BE MESSY AND I WOULD LIKE TO ARRIVE AHEAD OF TIME.
"But-"
MRS LEGACY, WOULD IT HELP IF I BRIBED YOU WITH AN ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE?
Adrienne gave up. "Oh alright, then. Give us that. But it had better be vodka-based, that's all I can say..."
Just then, as the figures in the hallway started to dissolve into nothingness, Diamanda came out of her room. Death turned, and she found herself gazing into saw the steely blue pinpricks of light that terrified her into waking from her dream. But this time, there was no dream to wake from. Death, his entourage and Diamanda's grandmother disappeared, leaving nothing but an urn quietly rocking on its base.
Diamanda stood stock still, unable to move. Then, her legs collapsed from under her as the hard truth slammed into her.
She fell against the door, curling into a protective ball as the tears overcame her, coursing through her and shaking her frame.
"Mum! Granddad! Ellie! Anyone!" she screamed, her lungs aching at every word. "Please, come now! Please! I don't-I don't know what to do!"
Diamanda slumped completely on to the floor as the rest of her family came into the hallway to see what was going on. When Brutha saw the urn, he sank to his knees. "Adie? No..." he murmured, then fell silent.
"Mandy-? Oh my gods," Cheery said, rushing to her daughter's side. "Mandy, it's alright, sweetheart. Look at me..."
"I saw him, mum. Why could I see him?" Diamanda said in a flat voice. "I saw him..."
Cheery could feel the tears pricking at her eyes but she fought them down, for Diamanda's sake. Her dreams had also been interrupted by the cloaked figure, but it had been Diamanda's cries that brought her out of it.
Diamanda's feverish whisper and its implications instilled a numbing fear inside her; again, she refused to let it show. But why could Diamanda see him?
Druellae and Dibbler came out just as Cheery and Debbie managed to revive Diamanda sufficiently to get her on her feet. Cheery then moved to her father's side and wrapped her arms around him, helping him stand. "We'll take her to the family graveyard tomorrow and make sure it's done properly, I promise."
Brutha made no reply, but allowed her to help him up. For the next while, the Discworld family consoled each other and were consoled in turn. Finally, they said goodnight to each other and went back to their bedrooms.
Wiping the tears from her bleary eyes, Diamanda staggered back into her darkened room. It was something of stroke of luck, therefore, that she noticed the parcel before she collapsed on top of it and crushed it. The cogs in her brain whirred without connecting as she stared at it vacantly. It hadn't been there before, and there wasn't even a window in her room someone could get in through; just the door from the hallway her entire family had been occupying. It was possible someone could have slipped in without them noticing, but highly improbable.
At a loss for anything better to do, she picked up the present and started untying the ribbon. She had half an idea what might be inside...
Her hunch turned out to be correct as she unfolded a beautiful black dress from its nest of tissue paper. In a dream-like state, she put it on and inspected herself in the mirror.
The workmanship on the dress was exquisite, the fabrics and stitching of the highest quality. But because it was made up of black-on-black, most of the fine detail was lost. It was as though it had been made by someone who had a good understanding of design and texture, but no grasp whatsoever on the concept of colour.
Diamanda decided she would wear the dress. Especially now, it reflected the way she was feeling. She looked around her room; it was a little girl's room, still. That would need to change. But not right now.
Exhausted by crying, she backed up until her bed bumped against her legs, then sat down. She lay down and fell asleep, fully dressed on top of the covers.
Breakfast was a silent affair the following morning. Cheery watched her father's desolate face with a sense of guilt, regretting that she should have to ask what she was about to ask.
"Dad..." she said eventually, barely louder than a whisper.
"Mm?" Brutha said, looking up at her with eyes that appeared hollow.
"I know it's... not the best time, but I still want to visit Larkspur today. There is something going on, something that might affect our family. I realise you wanted to come too, but I'd understand if under the circumstances-"
"-I'd rather not come." Brutha smiled wanly. "Yes, I fear that is the case. I would not be offended if you still wanted to go ahead with it. I simply don't have it in me after..." His voice faltered and died.
"We'll still take- take mum to the graveyard first, though. I'm not forgetting." She finished her pancakes and got up. "I'd better go take a shower and get dressed, so I'll talk to you later."
Brutha nodded and even managed another smile as his daughter left the kitchen.
As soon as she left, Brutha let his pain flow out. He had not expected to lose Adrienne so suddenly, and now she was gone. It was as though half of his soul had been torn away from him, and in a way it really had been. He'd given up so much to be with Adrienne, given up everything he held dear. She was his first and only love. She had stood by him through his eccentricities and shown him the path when he was going astray.
The only thought that gave him peace was that he wouldn't be alone for long, and he would be sure not to leave his family without saying what he needed to say first.
That afternoon, Cheery did as she said she would. She knocked on the door and stood back to wait. It was opened by a smiling face.
"Cheery! What a wonderful surprise. What brings you here?" Larkspur caught sight of Cheery's expression and her smile faltered.
"I'd rather not discuss it on the doorstep."
Larkspur stood to one side. "Well then, come on in."
RIP Adrienne Discworld.
I was well and truly taken off guard by Adrienne's death. Hence why it occurred in her nightie in the hallway. Brudrienne was probably one of my favourite ever Sim couples and Adie will be sorely missed.
She accomplished her LTW of becoming a Criminal Mastermind, although I think she was far too nice to be in such a line of work.
She successfully raised four children - Chrysoprase, Cohen, Carrot and Cheery - despite not being a Family Sim and not having a motherly bone in her body. She was a pretty shite mother and grandmother, but I loved her anyway.
Farewell, Adie. Enjoy your afterlife ping-pong games.
And that, my friends, is all for now! I feel like there's still so much I need to get through before I can send the D-kids to College, but I'll get there, I swear! Until next time, stay ~fabulous and good Simming to you all!
Last time ended with Brutha having a troubling vision of Diamanda's future which left the whole family wondering what was going on.
Onwards!
"...and that's why I'm not allowed in Djelibeybi any more. How was I supposed to know the guy with the golden mask was the big kahuna, anway? No one tells me anything. People these days, so touchy about little things like Pharaohs and rulers and gods in human form.
Well, since we can't stay at the inn any longer, we've set up camp on a sand dune. Vena said we need a high vantage point just in case they send the cavalry after us me. Not the brightest idea if you ask me, the wind gusts up here like you wouldn't..."
Just then, the wind gusted up the dune like you wouldn't believe, carrying with it a million grains of sand. Cohen dropped the journal and stood, shaking sand out of his hair in frustration.
"Gods, and I just washed it too. I'll never find Pantene out here," he lamented. "Stupid Klatch and its stupid deserts and its stupid uptight citizens..."
He rubbed his eyepatch experimentally. "Damn. And I've got sand in my patch."
He removed the patch and brushed off the worst of the granules, pocketing it for safe keeping. He massaged around his eye, clearing away the slick of sweat and sand that had gathered there. The Klatchian air was hot and seemed to crackle in Cohen's lungs with every breath, but the breeze still felt fresh and soothing on his face with the patch off.
It hadn't been Cohen's idea to come back to Klatch. He thought it a scorched, ruthless corner of the Disc, but when the woman you adore has her heart set on it, what else can you do?
Cohen pulled the eyepatch back out of his pocket and was about to put it on when an unexpected movement caught his eye.
The dune was situated right next to an old graveyard. It made Cohen uneasy but he didn't want to admit it and Vena had been quite insistent that they needed to be able to see in all directions. It was a lonely, empty place of memories in the middle of the desert. Except that now, it wasn't empty.
A pale, ghostly form in a red dress stood by one of the tombstones. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Must be a mirage.
The wisp was still there, and much as Cohen tried to tell himself otherwise, was staring straight at him.
Throat uncomfortably dry, Cohen tried to call out. "H-hello?"
"Who are you talking to, babe?"
Cohen heard the crunch of sand behind him, but was too transfixed and muddled to turn around.
"Luckily, I wasn't instigated in your terrible crime against the Pharaoh and I actually managed to buy us some food." She paused. "No need to thank me, really."
Vena snapped her fingers impatiently. "Hey, Cohen! Talk to me!"
She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, grinning playfully. Cohen's eyes gradually focused on her face.
"Hi," Vena said, "Remember me? Look, I've got sausages and bread and some fruit juice and- something wrong?"
"Vena. Do you see...down there, in the graveyard?"
"Of course I do. Let's stay up here though, those things have all sorts of nasty diseases. Bad-tempered little bastards, too."
Cohen stared at her, agawk. "They...are? I didn't realise."
"I thought everyone knew that. The Klatchian Desert Weasel is the most unpleasant mustelid you'll find anywhere-"
"Wait, what? No, that's not what I meant, Vee."
Vena shrugged. "Well, there's nothing else down there."
Cohen watched as the figure collapsed, curling up into a ball against the tombstone and rocking gently back and forth.
"Are you alright, hon? You're acting kind of strange," Vena asked, concern in her voice.
He tore his eyes away. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think the heat is playing tricks on my head...did you say you brought fruit juice?"
Vena put down the plastic bag and withdrew a large bottle of apple juice. "Where would you be without me?"
"Somewhere else. With less sand, less sun, and easier access to proper haircare products."
After taking a swig of juice, he put his eyepatch back on and stole another glance at the graveyard - the figure was gone. Ah well, maybe it was just the heat.
"I still can't believe you asked the Pharaoh where the public restrooms are. You're lucky to be alive."
"Look, I thought he was a tourist information guy, okay?"
"He wears a mask made out of gold!"
"...That's why I thought he was a tourist information guy. I figured it was to wow easily-impressed travellers."
"And the heavily armoured guard didn't tip you off? Really?"
"Have you rubbed it in sufficiently yet, Miss Hedge?"
Vena smiled affectionately. "Almost. Did you finish writing everything in your little diary for today?"
"It's a journal, Vee. Girls write in diaries, manly men write in journals. And nearly, I still have a little bit to go."
"Hurry up, then. I have a big night planned involving you, me and a big bag of marshmallows under the stars."
Cohen hurriedly finished scribbling the half-completed sentence he'd left dangling earlier, and started a new paragraph.
"Something happened today, and I don't know what to make of it. Common sense tells me it's my imagination, but common sense doesn't always have the answers. I can't be certain of what I saw, but what I think I saw was the spirit of a woman in the graveyard at the foot of the dune, watching me.
There's a distinct possibility I'm going crazy. Vena couldn't see her, so why could I? Since then, I've looked for her but have seen nothing. I don't understa-"
Cohen's pen fell still as two cogs meshed in his head. Wait. Just a minute here. Wait. It's happened before. It's happened before, but I didn't realise. Last time...
The force of the blow had knocked his eyepatch clean off, and left him addled and confused. There was far too much adrenaline pumping through his system at the time for him to process what he was seeing, and he was too busy trying to stay alive to take it in. He hadn't so much as thought about it until this very moment, when, all at once, he saw the link.
"The entire clearing. Filled with dead spirits. Adventurers who had tried to take Bigfoot's treasure. I wasn't wearing my patch. Just now I took it off because of the sand. My left eye isn't blinded; it just sees the world differently."
Too overwhelmed by the revelation to write anymore, Cohen closed the journal. "Well, this is a turn of events," he mumbled.
There was a high-pitched scream and Cohen turned to Vena, who was still sprawled on the sand.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
"It was just the wind, babe. Gods, you're so jumpy today."
"Yeah... jumpy..." Cohen said, fighting to order his thoughts. "So, about those plans of yours involving you, me and a bag of marshmallows under the sky?"
"Hello?"
"Mr DeRonde," McGraw's voice trembled with the pent-up stress and excitement, much as she fought to keep it calm. "The formula: it works. I've done it. We're ready to go."
She could practically hear his lupine smile down the phone line. "This is excellent news; well done. I take it I can trust you to get started on the next step?"
"Of course. We'll be ready to launch a week from now, I promise."
The morning sun dribbled in through the window, stirring Adrienne awake. She glanced to her right; Brutha was still fast asleep. Slowly and tenderly, she reached out and wrapped an arm around him. Without waking, Brutha snuggled closer and draped an arm over her in turn.
Adrienne smiled. He seemed so peaceful now, but only a few hours ago he was painting frantically and screaming something about choices and destiny (and, for some strange reason, cocker spaniels. But that was far less worrying than the other stuff).
What did you see, Brutha? What could it mean for our granddaughter; for our family?
Downstairs, Debbie was getting ready for work while her wife fretted around the kitchen.
"Just relax, Cheery. It could be nothing, you never know," Debbie said, as Cheery completed her seventh circuit.
"But what if it's not? Debbie, I'm scared for her; mum says he's never had a vision so intense before, and to me that suggests it's something big." Cheery paused, chewing on her thumbnail. "I just...what if it's her- her father? She still doesn't know. What if he comes for her? What if he - I don't know - turns her into the next Death? She's happy now, for the first time in her life. I don't want that taken away from her."
Debbie pulled her into a warm hug, staunching the flow of worries.
"You can't know for sure, and speculating will just make you upset. Are you going to tell her?"
"Tell her what?" Cheery asked.
"Everything. About her parentage, about your father's vision, just...everything."
Cheery mulled it over. "Yes. In time. Let her enjoy her teen years for now, though; she has too much joi de vivre to burden her with such thoughts."
Indeed, Diamanda was enjoying a weightlessness-of-mind she never had the chance to experience as a child. It was as if her world had expanded the moment she became a teen. She had picked up an interest in how the world worked, and often spent many hours when she should be in bed gazing through the eyepiece of a telescope.
She had questions - so many questions - about life and death, stars and oceans, and the magnificent white horse that visited her all those years ago. Where did it come from, and why did she feel she knew it? She had questions about herself, her family and the people around her. What was the "shroud" that Druellae had talked to her about, and why - with the exception of the stallion - did animals detest her so heartily?
But the million dollar question was this: How would she go on her first day of high school?
(Diamanda's OTH is Science. Since I don't think of her as a geek-chic/nerdy character, instead she's a curious, questioning soul. M'kay?)
Moments before the bus arrived on Monday morning, Diamanda stood before the family wishing well with a coin clenched in her fingers and her eyes screwed shut.
Please, let this be the turning point in my life. Don't let me mess this up. I want this so badly. Please.
She dropped the coin and waited to hear the splash. Just then the bus showed up, the horn blaring its impatience.
Diamanda couldn't stop her heart from hammering against her ribcage as she mounted the steps, but she refused outright to let her lack of confidence show. That's what the old Diamanda would have done; New Diamanda was different. Old Diamanda was afraid of burning herself on the fire of life, but New Diamanda grabbed the flame with both hands. New Diamanda was self-assured, witty, intelligent, popular, even a little flirtatious.
...I hope.
When she got home, the New Diamanda was ecstatic. Her day couldn't have gone better. All of the horrible kids who made her early life hell had either transferred to different high schools or didn't share any of her classes, so it was easy enough to steer clear. She'd met a few people who she was sure would become her friends and in a moment of giddy boldness, she'd swapped cellphone numbers with a boy she sat behind in Science.
She took pleasure in how easily all of today's social interactions flowed; if anyone had been affected by the "Shroud", they did a pretty damn fine job of covering it up. Fresh, revitalising energy was surging through her blood, and it felt fantastic.
One thing was for certain: Old Diamanda was dead and gone, a wraith of the past.
It was late afternoon when Cheery sought out her father, who was reading in the sun, and gave him a meaningful glance. The time had come to pay a visit to a straggling branch of the family tree. (That was a pune, or play on words. Get it? Ah? Ah?)
"This is the place?" asked Brutha, as they approached the Maxis-made abomination on the edge of town.
Cheery knocked on the wood of the door and waited, but there was no response. She knocked again and called, "Uncle Bel? You home? It's Cheery and Brutha, we've come to see you!"
Brutha shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe he's not in."
Cheery shot him a glance. "We're talking about the same Belafon, right? You know, the shut-in? He must be here."
"But...Cheery, look at the windows. They're all boarded up. That may suggest he's moved away," said Brutha patiently, gesturing at the thick, wooden planks nailed roughly over the glass.
"That is strange, I admit," Cheery said. "I guess...I guess he's not in there, since PlantSims need sun to...unless..." an impossible thought crashed into her brain like an arrow of ice.
"Dad. We need to get into this house, right now!" she said urgently.
She tried the handle and found it locked.
"Bel! Bel? Are you in there? Answer me!" Cheery shouted. She glared at the door, then lined up for a better shot.
"Cheery, don't-!" Brutha warned.
Her foot lashed out and hit the door with surprising force. With a protesting, metallic squeal, the lock relented and the door swung inwards. Cheery rushed inside, followed by her father, but the sight that met her made her breath catch in her throat.
A pale, withered form lay slumped in the corner of the room, unmoving and showing no signs of life.
"Bel!" Cheery cried, rushing to his side and kneeling down as tears pricked her eyes. "He-he boarded up the windows to block out the sun so he would...so he would die. Why would he do something like that? Why would you do something like that?" Her voice rose to a fever pitch as emotions overwhelmed her.
Brutha leaned forward and ran a hand over the dry, curling leaves on Belafon's head. "Cheery, he's not dead. We can still help him."
"Then we will. Quick: go into the bathroom, run a cold bath and tear down the boards over the windows. We need to get him into the sun and he needs water."
As Brutha dashed off to do as she said, Cheery hauled the lethargic Belafon into a sitting position and picked him up in a fireman's hold, staggering a little under his weight.
Cheery got him into the bathroom without much trouble and lowered him into the rapidly-filling bath, clothes and all. She watched him anxiously for any sign of change, but he didn't stir as the water washed over him.
"Dad, why isn't he getting better? He should be getting better," Cheery whispered after a few minutes had passed.
"Give it time; you need to let the water seep through his system. That won't happen immediately," said Brutha soothingly.
Sighing heavily, Cheery sat back on the bathroom floor to wait. Minutes whirred away like dragonflies in the sun and Cheery soon grew impatient again.
"He's not improving," she said finally, standing up. "We don't know how long he's been lying in the dark like that; it could be days. We could be too late to save him this way. But I know another way that might work." With that, she strode back into the main room.
She returned a few seconds later with the Plantophic-C to find Belafon struggling into a sitting position and the water level drastically reduced.
"I appreciate the thought, Cheery," he said in a voice as dry as parchment. "But please, get away from me with that bottle. I'd rather die a PlantSim than live as a Sim any day."
Slightly shamefaced, Cheery lowered the bottle. "You're- you're okay," she said, relieved. "Why did you do this to yourself, Bel?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Belafon said quietly, as his thirsty pores drained the last of the water. "I've never been in control of my life; I thought at the very least I could control my death, but apparently I can't even do that."
Cheery's heart wrenched in her chest as she thought of how to phrase her reply. "Belafon, I know it's not been easy for you, and I'm so sorry we haven't been there to support you when you needed it, but we can get you through this, I know we can. We-"
"-It's not just that," said Belafon, setting his leaves a-rustle with a shake of his head. "Give me a moment and I'll tell you everything. I'd like to have another soak first."
"As long as you don't try to do anything stupid again," Cheery warned.
Belafon managed a dark grin. "Not to worry; you managed to unravel about five days' work in all of twenty minutes. I'm no longer in any immediate danger so I guess I'll resign myself to that for now."
"Tell us, then," said Brutha about ten minutes later as they sat together in the sun outside Belafon's house. "Tell us why you were... were so intent on ending your life."
It was the first time Belafon had been outside for weeks, and in front of his house at that. Under the circumstances, he couldn't care less about the gaze of onlookers. He breathed deep before answering, his senses revelling in the warmth and splendour of the afternoon.
"The years since my children left have been difficult for me, but I have refrained from seeding more," he said eventually. "I think that is for the best. I have been...surviving since that day, though I would not call it living. But then, a few days ago, something arrived. Something that changed everything, that made me lose what scrap of hope I had remaining of ever being treated as an equal."
He produced a crumpled pile of mail, gripping the letters loosely in both hands. "You see, in amongst the usual assortment of junk mail and bills was a flyer from a company called The Handy Vine." He opened the torn envelope and tossed over the folded paper it contained. "I'll let you read it yourselves. I can't bear to look at it any more."
Cherry perused the flyer and immediately saw how it had pushed Belafon over the edge. She flipped it over to see if there was anything on the other side before answering.
"Belafon... This is terrible."
"You understand why I did what I did, then?"
"Don't for a minute think I condone it," Cheery said sternly. "But yes, I do. These people - The Handy Vine - are degrading your whole race and turning them into nothing more than servants."
"Or worse," said Belafon darkly.
"That's despicable," Brutha growled. "But how is this possible? Apart from our own family, I didn't realise there were any PlantSims even living in Ankh Morpork."
"That is the question," Cheery agreed. She held up the flyer and said, "Look - the contact details: Katy McGraw. That's the Garden Club member I- I tracked down for Larkspur and Aspen all those years ago." Her mouth went dry as she spoke the words, remembering the betrayal she had perpetrated against Belafon.
"Maybe we should talk to her, then," said Brutha.
"Perhaps. I'd also like to talk to Larkspur, see if she knows anything about this. There must be a link; there must be."
Belafon shook his head mournfully. "I don't expect you two to fight for me. I'm not worth it. Besides, after this there's not really any hope for me. I'm not being depressive; I'm just being realistic."
"Don't start, Belafon," Brutha said sharply. "You're family - my brother - and we've done too little for you over the years. We're going to help you; the way we should have been all this time."
"If you're sure that's what you want to do, I won't stop you. But I have no expectations for what you'll achieve, that is all."
"Much obliged," Cheery said with a smile. "For now, we need to get you out of this house. You've been on your own far too long, and I think I know just the place for you."
"You really don't mind?" Belafon asked, wide-eyed.
Bilious merely grinned. "Just how many times have I asked you to come and live with me?" he asked. "What I want to know is why it's taken this long, and why it was necessary for Cheery to get involved."
Belafon looked at his hands. "I have not been well these past few days-"
"-I realise. But you're here now, and that's the most important thing." Bilious turned to Cheery and Brutha. "Do you want to stay a while? I could give you a tour of the new place."
"That's very kind of you, but we need to get home. It's Dibbler and Druellae's birthday and there'll be hell to pay if we're not there," said Brutha.
"Literally. Dibbler is imposing fines for anyone arriving late to family events," said Cheery.
"In that case, it was nice to see you, and enjoy the birthday," Bilious said, sending them off with a wave.
The birthday was a small affair, with only the immediate family and a certain Simself in attendance. Thankfully, Dibbler didn't have to invoke the full power of the Late-To-Birthday clause and a good time was had by all, except Dibbler did seem a bit disappointed.
Both girls paused momentarily to consider their wishes.
I wish for money. Bucket loads of money. Cart loads of money. No, a swimming pool of money! Like Scrooge McDuck. Yeeaah.
I wish for peace on earth, environmental harmony, and safety for all aquatic mammals. Nothing big.
Highly dubious wishes aside, the pseudo-twins grew into a pair of gorgeous young women with the highly-praised Discworld ability to party hard.
Druellae decided the biggest thing in her life was her family. She didn't leave her love of animals and the natural world behind with her childhood, however, and made it her goal in life to provide a loving home for cats and dogs of all persuasions.
Dibbler, to no one's surprise, showed a certain affinity for making money and her proposed methods were curiously devious: she planned on using animals to augment her income by involving them in their own career paths.
(Someone give me a hard piece of wood, that I may pound my head on it. Druellae's LTW is to raise 20 puppies or kittens, Dibbler's is to get 6 pets to the top of their careers. What an annoying batch of LTWs I have this generation.)
Butterflies clustered in Diamanda's stomach as she read over and over the text message she had just received. It read:
'Hey diamanda its Aiden remember me? Was wonderin if u wanted 2 meet 4 lunch this arvo. Allgoods if ur busy tho. :)'
Diamanda trembled slightly as she contemplated the correct tone to respond with. She didn't want to come across too eager, but she didn't want to appear too casual or he'd lose interest. After reflecting on it for a good five minutes, she chastised herself. Over-analysing something like this was what Old Diamanda would do. Without thinking, she tapped out a reply:
'I would love to. :) Where would you like to meet?'
Then she went back over it and dumbed it down, changing the to's to 2's and the you to a u, to better mirror his texting style.
The reply arrived a few minutes later:
'Haha cool how bout Cafe 125?'
Diamanda's heart leapt when she saw Aiden waiting outside Cafe One-Twenty-Five; confident as she'd been that he'd meant it, Old Diamanda was still locked inside her somewhere, telling her it was all a cruel joke to play with her feelings. Take that, Old Diamanda.
"Hey, thanks for coming," Aiden said, stammering out the words.
"No, thank you!" said Diamanda, at a loss for what else she could say. "I guess we should go get a seat then. You hungry?" Stupid question; it was lunchtime. Of course he was.
"Starving. How about we sit outside? It's a beautiful day," Aiden suggested.
"Great idea! I'd love that!" Diamanda said, hating how over-enthusiastic and artificial her voice sounded.
After they had ordered their meals, Aiden turned to her and started to speak, hesitantly at first but growing in confidence.
"I'm really glad you agreed to come out with me. I haven't been in Ankh-Morpork long y'see, and I don't know many people yet."
"Where are you from?" Diamanda asked, glad of a conversation topic.
"Genua. Same as my dad. My mum's from Lancre. She's gone back there now, and I've moved here with my dad." He smiled sadly. "He said we couldn't stay in Genua; said there were too many memories."
Diamanda bit her lip. "That must be hard for you, losing your mother and starting over in a new place."
"A bit, but it could be worse," Aiden grinned. "What about you, then?"
"Me? Oh. I'm from a Legacy family. We've been in Ankh-Morpork for generations, so this is home for me."
"A Legacy family, huh? That must be cool. I imagine you must be friends with everyone here."
Diamanda shifted uncomfortably. "Um. Not exactly."
As their food arrived, Diamanda took the plunge. She needed to know.
"Look, Aiden. I have to ask you something, and it... it might sound strange. But you have to answer truthfully."
"Okay then, shoot."
"Do I... strike you as odd in any way? I don't make you - I don't know - feel strange, or uncomfortable? Anything like that at all?"
Aiden answered carefully. "No, you don't make me feel anything of the sort. Why?"
"No reason! Just wondering!" Diamanda replied quickly, shovelling chilli into her mouth and feeling something joyous buoying up inside her.
"I'll come clean with you, Diamanda," Aiden said. "I think you're cute, and I'd like to get to know you better. If you want me to, that is."
"Yes!" Diamanda gushed, then fretted that she may have answered too loudly and quickly. "Um. I mean, yes. I...I would like that very much."
"Awesome. Maybe living in Ankh-Morpork isn't going to be too bad after all."
The rest of the lunch passed pleasurably as the young pair got to know each other better. Aiden had left something of a troubled past behind him in Genua, but seemed intent not to let that hinder his life in Ankh-Morpork, something Diamanda thought admirable. Even with the meagre scraps of information she'd managed to scavenge off him, she already found herself empathising with him and as they paid and made their way for the door, she turned and grabbed him by the hand.
"Hey, I know we've literally only just met, but I really enjoyed your company and... I like you, is what I'm trying to say," Diamanda said, laughing nervously.
"You too?" said Aiden shyly.
"And I know it's quick, but... Do you want to make this official? You and me?"
"I was hoping you'd ask."
Diamanda breathed a sigh of relief. You've gone this far, you may as well take it a step further...
With the strength and confidence of New Diamanda surging through her system, she leant forwards and kissed Aiden softly on the lips; a kiss he gladly reciprocated. Privately, she blessed the person she had become and hoped Aiden - and everyone else - would never discover the person she used to be.
"Say, Ellie. I've been thinking a lot in the Scheming Chair lately-"
"-The armchair in your room?" Druellae smirked.
"Correct. I've been thinking about our lifetime wishes, and how there's no reason we shouldn't get started on them now. In fact, it's ridiculous we've waited this long to put things into action."
Druellae blinked. "But Dib, we only grew up two days ago..."
Dibbler threw her hands up. "Precisely!"
"Alright, I can't say I don't agree with you. And I really, really want a cat so... We'll need to convince our mothers, of course." She thought for a moment. "You deal with mum. I think I know how to convince other-mum."
"Right! We reconvene when Operation Feline is underway. Let's go," said Dibbler firmly.
That afternoon as Druellae worked in the greenhouse with Debbie after school as they often did, she broached the subject.
"Mum, you know the AMSPCA?" she said, as she cleared the weeds away from a young eggplant.
"The Ankh-Morpork Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals? What about it?"
"You know they have hundreds of cats and dogs who have been dumped or maltreated in bad homes, and they're so pushed for space... They're always looking for people to give them foster homes."
"Just what are you getting at, Druellae Deborah Discworld?" Debbie asked, in a voice which suggested she knew exactly what her daughter was on about.
"I'd really like to adopt a cat, mum. Dibbler wants one, too, so-"
"-Why would Dibbler be so interested in animal rights and preservation?" Debbie asked amusedly.
"Um, not the rights and preservation bits so much, but she has her reasons. So how about it? Wouldn't you like a cat, too?" Druellae asked, playing on her mother's shared love of animals and the natural world.
The look on Debbie's face told Druellae she'd won. "You'd have to ask Cheery, of course-"
"-Oh, I think she'll agree to it," said Druellae, thinking of her sister's persuasive powers when there was something she wanted.
"If that's the case, we'll go to the AMSPCA tomorrow and see what they have. But you and Dibbler are responsible for it, understood?"
"Completely!" Druellae cried, elated. "Thanks, mum!"
And so it was that Ksandra became a member of the Discworld clan. The moment the two girls entered the AMSPCA holding pens to be introduced to the cats, she had thrown herself at them in a purring, mewling mess of lovable grey fur and they immediately knew she was the one.
Dibbler wasted no time in finding the new addition a job in the line of Service, and she and Druellae shared the responsibility of training and feeding her, and keeping the litterbox clean. The job of keeping her plied with cuddles, however, was spread around the entire household.
The nightmares that had tormented Diamanda as a child had settled comfortably into the sands of time. She put it down to her new confidence casting out the faceless children that chased her in her dreams for so long, and allowing her to rest easy. In fact, it had been years since she'd had a real nightmare.
Until now.
Diamanda's eyelids creased and flickered as her sleeping consciousness battled with a dark, unknown presence. A slick of sweat shone on her forehead as the dream deepened and her lips parted in a silent cry. The presence became better defined, as though moving toward her through a tunnel. She saw a robe, a hooded face, a glint of bone, two burning points of blue fire...
The sight of those piercing blue eyes startled her awake and she jolted up with a scream, "Go away!"
She sat there, addled by the dream, her hair sticking damply to her skin, made clammy by chilly sweat.
Just a dream, she told herself, but the presence she felt so strongly in sleep was not waning; it was still there, filling her heart and bones with a sickening energy that seemed to hum and chatter in her very core.
"No!" The word was strangled by her tightening throat as she flung herself out of bed, somehow knowing exactly what was going on whilst simultaneously having no clue.
Outside in the hallway, Adrienne faced the cloaked figure and his scantily-clad lackeys with a frown.
"Look, this is highly inconvenient, I only got up to get a glass of water."
I FEAR THE SITUATION IS NON-NEGOTIABLE, MRS DISCWORLD.
"Can't I even change out of my nightdress? It's bloody embarrassing is all."
I AM AFRAID NOT.
"Can I at least say goodbye to my family? They're all asleep-"
Death gave an exasperated sigh. It sounded like desert sand scoured by a cold wind. IF YOU DO NOT MIND, MADAM, I HAVE A NUMBER OF JOBS TONIGHT, INCLUDING A PUB BRAWL IN THE SHADES DOWNTOWN. THEY TEND TO BE MESSY AND I WOULD LIKE TO ARRIVE AHEAD OF TIME.
"But-"
MRS LEGACY, WOULD IT HELP IF I BRIBED YOU WITH AN ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE?
Adrienne gave up. "Oh alright, then. Give us that. But it had better be vodka-based, that's all I can say..."
Just then, as the figures in the hallway started to dissolve into nothingness, Diamanda came out of her room. Death turned, and she found herself gazing into saw the steely blue pinpricks of light that terrified her into waking from her dream. But this time, there was no dream to wake from. Death, his entourage and Diamanda's grandmother disappeared, leaving nothing but an urn quietly rocking on its base.
Diamanda stood stock still, unable to move. Then, her legs collapsed from under her as the hard truth slammed into her.
She fell against the door, curling into a protective ball as the tears overcame her, coursing through her and shaking her frame.
"Mum! Granddad! Ellie! Anyone!" she screamed, her lungs aching at every word. "Please, come now! Please! I don't-I don't know what to do!"
Diamanda slumped completely on to the floor as the rest of her family came into the hallway to see what was going on. When Brutha saw the urn, he sank to his knees. "Adie? No..." he murmured, then fell silent.
"Mandy-? Oh my gods," Cheery said, rushing to her daughter's side. "Mandy, it's alright, sweetheart. Look at me..."
"I saw him, mum. Why could I see him?" Diamanda said in a flat voice. "I saw him..."
Cheery could feel the tears pricking at her eyes but she fought them down, for Diamanda's sake. Her dreams had also been interrupted by the cloaked figure, but it had been Diamanda's cries that brought her out of it.
Diamanda's feverish whisper and its implications instilled a numbing fear inside her; again, she refused to let it show. But why could Diamanda see him?
Druellae and Dibbler came out just as Cheery and Debbie managed to revive Diamanda sufficiently to get her on her feet. Cheery then moved to her father's side and wrapped her arms around him, helping him stand. "We'll take her to the family graveyard tomorrow and make sure it's done properly, I promise."
Brutha made no reply, but allowed her to help him up. For the next while, the Discworld family consoled each other and were consoled in turn. Finally, they said goodnight to each other and went back to their bedrooms.
Wiping the tears from her bleary eyes, Diamanda staggered back into her darkened room. It was something of stroke of luck, therefore, that she noticed the parcel before she collapsed on top of it and crushed it. The cogs in her brain whirred without connecting as she stared at it vacantly. It hadn't been there before, and there wasn't even a window in her room someone could get in through; just the door from the hallway her entire family had been occupying. It was possible someone could have slipped in without them noticing, but highly improbable.
At a loss for anything better to do, she picked up the present and started untying the ribbon. She had half an idea what might be inside...
Her hunch turned out to be correct as she unfolded a beautiful black dress from its nest of tissue paper. In a dream-like state, she put it on and inspected herself in the mirror.
The workmanship on the dress was exquisite, the fabrics and stitching of the highest quality. But because it was made up of black-on-black, most of the fine detail was lost. It was as though it had been made by someone who had a good understanding of design and texture, but no grasp whatsoever on the concept of colour.
Diamanda decided she would wear the dress. Especially now, it reflected the way she was feeling. She looked around her room; it was a little girl's room, still. That would need to change. But not right now.
Exhausted by crying, she backed up until her bed bumped against her legs, then sat down. She lay down and fell asleep, fully dressed on top of the covers.
Breakfast was a silent affair the following morning. Cheery watched her father's desolate face with a sense of guilt, regretting that she should have to ask what she was about to ask.
"Dad..." she said eventually, barely louder than a whisper.
"Mm?" Brutha said, looking up at her with eyes that appeared hollow.
"I know it's... not the best time, but I still want to visit Larkspur today. There is something going on, something that might affect our family. I realise you wanted to come too, but I'd understand if under the circumstances-"
"-I'd rather not come." Brutha smiled wanly. "Yes, I fear that is the case. I would not be offended if you still wanted to go ahead with it. I simply don't have it in me after..." His voice faltered and died.
"We'll still take- take mum to the graveyard first, though. I'm not forgetting." She finished her pancakes and got up. "I'd better go take a shower and get dressed, so I'll talk to you later."
Brutha nodded and even managed another smile as his daughter left the kitchen.
As soon as she left, Brutha let his pain flow out. He had not expected to lose Adrienne so suddenly, and now she was gone. It was as though half of his soul had been torn away from him, and in a way it really had been. He'd given up so much to be with Adrienne, given up everything he held dear. She was his first and only love. She had stood by him through his eccentricities and shown him the path when he was going astray.
The only thought that gave him peace was that he wouldn't be alone for long, and he would be sure not to leave his family without saying what he needed to say first.
That afternoon, Cheery did as she said she would. She knocked on the door and stood back to wait. It was opened by a smiling face.
"Cheery! What a wonderful surprise. What brings you here?" Larkspur caught sight of Cheery's expression and her smile faltered.
"I'd rather not discuss it on the doorstep."
Larkspur stood to one side. "Well then, come on in."
RIP Adrienne Discworld.
I was well and truly taken off guard by Adrienne's death. Hence why it occurred in her nightie in the hallway. Brudrienne was probably one of my favourite ever Sim couples and Adie will be sorely missed.
She accomplished her LTW of becoming a Criminal Mastermind, although I think she was far too nice to be in such a line of work.
She successfully raised four children - Chrysoprase, Cohen, Carrot and Cheery - despite not being a Family Sim and not having a motherly bone in her body. She was a pretty shite mother and grandmother, but I loved her anyway.
Farewell, Adie. Enjoy your afterlife ping-pong games.
And that, my friends, is all for now! I feel like there's still so much I need to get through before I can send the D-kids to College, but I'll get there, I swear! Until next time, stay ~fabulous and good Simming to you all!