Strangetown, Here We Come: Chapter Thirty-Five - part two
Warnings: Death
Chapter Thirty-Five
Part Two
"So has Ophelia still been coming by on the weekends? I've been really busy."
"Not as much."
"You must miss her."
Nervous Subject nodded.
"I guess she's busy with the end of the school year. She's graduating this year, isn't she?"
He nodded again.
"And she's away," he said, after a long pause. "...on spring break."
"Oh, that's right. Jenny mentioned that. Sounds like it'd be a fun trip. not that I'm much of an outdoorsman. I'll take the glow of the computer screen over the glow of a campfire any day."
"I like it," Nervous said. Spending time outside always made him feel better, happier, and more alive.
"Maybe we could go on a trip," Pascal suggested. "When things clear up a little at work..."
"Just us?"
"Sure. Or maybe we could bring some family along. Mint, and perhaps Ophelia, if she wants to, and possibly the boys..."
Nervous couldn't mask his frown. "They're loud."
Pascal laughed. "Yes. Yes, they are. Okay, well maybe just the two of us, then."
After another pause, Nervous said, "I'd like that."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, causing them both to jump. "Who could that be?" Pascal asked.
Nervous shrugged, looking every bit his namesake.
"I'll get it," Pascal suggested, as he approached the door.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said.
"Bella!" Pascal gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"Forgive me," she said, "but I saw you heading down here one day after our session, and when I went to your house tonight, well I thought I might find you here."
She glanced over at Nervous, who looked away.
Pascal noticed her looking and Nervous, and watched her face shifting in wonder, so he quickly turned her attention back to himself, and her own concenrs. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm terribly sorry to come looking for you at home. I know I should wait until my next appointment."
"Don't worry about it." It was his own fault. He'd crossed that line of reasonable distance from his client when he'd gone looking for her at her apartment. He also found himself not minding. He wanted to know if she'd made any progress. He'd been having difficulty leaving her case at work. It followed him around.
She began to give him details about a recent dream she'd had.
Nervous watched as they spoke.
He didn't like her. He didn't like the way Pascal had just let her in, or the way he was so interested in talking to her. She'd interrupted their coffee. He didn't like the look on her face, and in her eyes, or her way of talking. She was pulling all of Pascal's attention to her.
He tried not to glare, but he couldn't help it.
"Don Lothario," she said. "I don't know what it means, but I think I might have known him from before I lost my memory."
"Why hasn't he mentioned it?" Pascal hadn't exactly taken to Don when they'd met, briefly. He'd gotten a bad feeling about him. With this new information, he seemed downright sinister.
"Maybe he didn't want to alarm me?" Bella suggested, ever the optimist.
Her gaze turned back to Nervous, noticing the frighteningly dark quality of his eyes. He looked somewhat familiar to her.
A pale, thin face, bones too close to the surface, greeting her, welcoming her. The deep, endless darkness of his eyes, drawing her forward, into the light.
She shivered.
When he realized she was looking at him, Nervous glanced away.
"I should go," she said, shaking off the crawling feeling on her skin. She'd known Pascal to be a little on the odd side, what with the alien children and all, but she couldn't imagine anyone wanting to spend time with that... thing. Was he even a sim? Something else? She could sense an unusual power emanating from him.
Why was that?
"Oh," Pascal said, "well I can move your appointment to tommorrow, if you like."
"That's nice of you," she said. "I'll see you then." Quickly, she was gone.
Pascal closed the door behind her, and turned to find Nervous standing right behind him.
"I guess I should be heading out, too," Pascal said. "Mint will be waiting."
"Pascal?" Nervous asked.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Do you think..." He hesitated, then continued.
"Would it be okay if I didn't wear the helmet, sometimes?"
"Well, it keeps you from having nightmares."
"Yes, but..." Nervous sighed in exasperation. "It's just that... well, I don't dream at all when I wear it. I'm sick of it. Everyone dreams. I don't even feel like a sim at all. Just... empty."
Pascal nodded. He shouldn't have questioned him. It was Nervous's life and his own choice. He'd been too long a victim, having someone make his decisions for him, and he should be allowed to choose these things for himself.
"I suppose it would be okay," he said.
"It's up to you, Nervous. I can only make suggestions. You do what feels right for yourself, okay?"
Nervous nodded his head in agreement, but said nothing more. He seemed to have exhausted all of his words for the day in that one outburst.
Pascal said goodbye and made his exit once more.
It was up to him. His choice.
Even now, with years between him and his time with the Beakers, this concept seemed so foreign to Nervous Subject.
He headed for his bedroom, stopping briefly in the kitchen to take something for his headache. It was pretty routine for him.
He paused, feeling a chill go over his body. He felt a pair of eyes surveying him, but when he turned, there was nothing.
Judging eyes, he thought. he was being assessed, and found lacking. How had he known that?
He'd thought they were all gone from there. They'd settled down, resting in their new place. Had they started coming back to the house? Their souls were not at ease. They sought justice.
Someone must pay... someone must pay...
He wasn't hearing that, he decided. He wasn't someone. he wasn't anyone, and he'd already paid a great price for Olive's crimes. What would they want with him?
He continued to his bedroom, still trying to reassure himself that there was no need to be afraid, and he was relieved to notice that the voice had gone away, as had the feeling of being watched. All was quiet. It was as quiet as a tomb.
He thought about the feeling of the eyes on him, about all the things he'd seen, and the things he might see once more. But he also thought of nothingness. How empty it made him feel. All sims dream, don't they? They dream and have dreams. He was one of them, wasn't he?
No. He wasn't, not fully. He was something like a sim, but also something else. He wanted to be one of them. He wanted to dream, to feel alive.
Nervous lowered himself into bed, without the helmet this time.
He closed his eyes.
Slowly, images formed.
Terrible images.
He witnessed awful scenes of carnage and death.
Something about a wedding.
There were bodies everywhere.
He dreamt of nothing but death.
Those were his choices: horror or emptiness.
Nervous Subject twitched incessantly, grinding his teeth, but he slept through the night.
The train arrived early.
Bottom was expecting it to be much later by the time she reached Veronaville, but the sky had just begun to get dark as she watched that familiar countryside passing by.
Somehow, despite this, she was still greeted at the platform. She wasn't surprised. Puck and Hermia were like that.
"My dear sister! You've finally arrived!"
"I thought I was early," she said.
"Yes, but we've been waiting to see you ever since you left!" He reached down for her and enclosed her in a warm embrace. "How have you been?"
"Good. And you?"
He pulled back and she could see that his face was quite serious. "Oh. Have you not heard the news?"
"News? Well, no. I guess I've just been so busy finishing up my papers. I haven't been keeping up."
Hermia stepped closer and placed her hand on Bottom's shoulder. There was something in her solemn calmness that was extremely distressing.
"You're just in time for the funerals," she said.
"What funeral?" Bottom searched for an answer. "Has Consort passed?"
"Funerals," Puck corrected. "More than one. You don't listen."
"What happened?!" Bottom was aghast.
"I think it's be best if we discussed it once we get home," Hermia said. "you've just arrived."
Once they reached the Summerdream kitchen, Hermia settled in to continue. "Now," she said, "Where do I even begin?"
"How about I get us some tea first?" Puck interrupted, ever the gracious host.
"Please," Bottom said, "just tell me what's happened."
"Okay. I know you can take it like a woman, so here it is: they're dead. They're all dead."
"All of them?"
"No, not all. But two whole families were wiped out, save for me. I'm the only one left. Tybalt and Juliette, Mercutio and Romeo... all gone."
"You can't be serious."
"I'm afraid so," she said.
"I just thank my lucky stars that Puck wasn't involved in that whole mess. No doubt he would have done something terribly noble like jump in the middle of the fight to take the blow for a friend."
"Luckily for me, we weren't there," he said. "Hermia refused to go to the wedding."
"The wedding?!" Bottom couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Yes, she decided to marry him, the damn fool," Hermia said. "As if she didn't know what would happen. This feud, this ridiculous feud, simply must end. And maybe it will now. Gods know there aren't many left to quarrel. I never expected to see my best friend, brother, and sister all buried on the same day."
"And Romeo," added Puck.
"Oh, yes. How could I forget Romeo?" Hermia could not mask the bitterness in her tone. "Were it not for him, there'd have been no wedding, and no quarrel to be had there. Of that I have no doubt."
Bottom wanted to ask for details, but she knew that Hermia would provide them in her own time, if she felt it necessary.
Hermia sighed, as if sensing Bottom's question, and simply said, "My best friend, killed by my own brother."
"He was the first to go. Nothing surprises me less than that, that it was Tybalt who drew the first 'sword', so to speak. And for that, he would die. He'd have to have known that."
"I can't imagine what Mercutio must have said to him," Puck said.
"I can," said Hermia. "I can imagine it and more. I can see the bitter look on my brother's face, and I can see Mercutio..." She paused, genuinely moved at the mention of his name, and took a moment to compose herself.
"He wouldn't have been afraid," Puck said.
"He never was." It was all Hermia could say.
"it's fitting that they'd die together, mortal enemies to their last breath. It's touching, really. In a way. They'd hate me for saying so, but they made each other complete. Gave each other a reason to live."
"What's a nemesis for, if not that?" Puck added.
"And like I said, I have no doubt Tybalt knew what was coming when he struck the first blow. He knew he'd die. I know my brother well enough to know that he probably wished to."
"Tybalt killed him," she continued. "Then he, in turn, was killed by my best friend's brother. By the man who had just married our sister."
"Then he too came to a untimely, yet not surprising, end." She tipped the mug back and thought for a moment.
"Is the law on my side if I say, "Good riddance?'"
"Probably not," said Puck.
"Then forget I said it," she smiled.
"No love for Romeo," Puck said. "The poor, poor dear."
"Oh, there was plenty of love for Romeo. Always lots to go around, if I recall correctly."
"And my sister, she died with him."
"Not even the police are clear on all the details of that grim affair yet."
"How terrible," said Bottom.
"Terrible, yes, but she made her bed and she had to lie in it. I tried to warn her. She couldn't be reasoned with. Some people just don't know enough to come in out of the rain. That was Juliette all over. Frustrating. Stupid. Impossible..."
She paused, recalling her sister.
"Oh, how I miss her," she said.
Bottom admired Hermia's strength. After losing so many, she must be growing used to it, but she couldn't imagine that it gets any easier.
"You haven't even mentioned Miranda yet," Puck said.
Behind them a barely audible voice said, "Yes... Finally."
Hippolita Summerdream held up the puzzle she'd been working on for weeks, now conquered. The commercials had touted it as unsolveable. She smiled in private satisfaction.
There was nothing she couldn't solve.
Not even the riddle of Death.
"What about her?" asked Bottom.
"Well, it seems she plans to single-handedly unite the two families in the best way she knows how."
"With her loins?" Bottom smirked.
"Don't laugh," Puck said. "It's true."
"What?"
"She's produced a heir to the Monty family. Leave it to Miranda to combine her romantic inclinations with a ruthless cunning for business. She's Goneril's daughter, through and through."
"That she is," Bottom said. "She always was, for all her flakiness."
"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Puck asked, with a smirk.
Bottom laughed. "You're terrible."
"I try."
"That's not the best of it," said Hermia. "Now she's pregnant again, and you'll never guess the father."
"I wouldn't even venture to try," said Bottom.
"Antonio Monty!" she said. "Can you believe it?!"
"Frankly, yes."
"That's not the worst I've heard," said Puck.
"Yes, I know," said Hermia. "I know all about Romeo. I mean, really, how can she be sure the child is even Mercutio's?"
"And not just Romeo..."
"There have been rumours," she agreed, lifting a brow at Bottom, but saying no more.
Bottom nodded. She could imagine. "I guess she's hoping for a daughter this time."
"But of course," Hermia said.
"Well, well, well... our vegabond daughter has finally returned!" a voice chirped. It was Titania.
They looked up to see her and Oberon standing in the doorway.
"Welcome home," she said.
"It's so good to see you again," said Oberon. Bottom had missed his rich bass voice, like a cat's purr.
"Well, don't just sit there, child!" Titania proclaimed. "Get over here and give your father a hug! We've missed you, terribly!"
Bottom smiled, and jumped up to meet Oberon's forceful embrace.
Once she was released, Titania moved in to preen her. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... what's this I see with you covering up your lovely ears?"
"You know how it is," Bottom said. "I didn't wan't to draw attention."
"Not ashamed, are you?"
"Of course not."
"Here, let me fix it up for you..."
Bottom turned around without protest as her mother fixed her hair, knowing it would do her no good to argue. It never did. If her mother wanted something, she got it, sooner or later. Titania's nimble fingers worked fast, pulling her hair back into a halo of braids.
"See? Now that looks much better."
"Thank you." Bottom smiled.
"Everything is all set up for you in your old room," Oberon said. "We haven't changed a thing."
"You go on up and get settled," Titania said, " and we'll take care of these dishes."
"Will you be staying?" Oberon asked, turning to Puck and Hermia.
Puck turned to Hermia. "What do you think?"
"You should stay and spend some time with your sister," she said, "but I think it'd be best for me to go home for the night. I'd like to spend some time alone there."
Oberon nodded. "We'll see you tommorrow for dinner, then. I'll be preparing a roast. Among other things."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermia said.
Bottom picked up her bags. "I'll just toss these in my room," she said.
Puck raised his mug and nodded his head, bidding her leave. She felt a sudden tug on her heartstrings and remembered how much she had missed him while she's been away.
She entered the parlour.
"Hey Bottom!" Nuala said, without missing a beat on the piano.
"Good to see you," Bottom said, as she headed up the stairs. "That's sounding great!"
Nuala swept her hand across the keys in a flourish, as if to punctuate the sentence.
She saw Morgan as she reached the top of the stairs.
Oh hey!" she said, looking up from the computer. "You're early."
"How are you?" Bottom asked.
"Oh, you know... same ol', same ol'. How about you?"
"I'm good."
"Hey, Helena," Bottom said as she turned the corner, heading down the hall to her former bedroom.
"Well, look who the cat dragged in!" Helena bellowed, looking up from her work with the seedlings. "It's good to see you!"
"You too. I guess you must be getting ready for college in the fall?"
"Well, no... I decided not to go. Who needs it, anyway? Bo-ring!"
"Really? You're not going at all?"
"Yeah. Titania and Oberon aren't too pleased, but they didn't give me too much grief about it."
"What about Hippolyta?"
"She's going, but not me."
"That'll be different."
"It's good for us, I think. Some time apart! Finally! I just want to get out of here and go to the big city, do something exciting! There has to be something more exciting out there than this!"
"More exciting than Casa Summerdream? What more could you want?"
"More sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll! Obviously!"
Bottom arched a disapproving brow. "Drugs? Didn't you say you were swearing off the happy seeds?"
"Oh, well then just the sex and rock 'n' roll, okay?! Well, Two out of three ain't bad!" She sang, "Cuz two out of three ain't bad..."
"Just be careful, okay?" Bottom tried not to sound like a lecturing adult.
"Yeah, yeah..."
Bottom left it at that.
"Careful and boring. There's no time to be careful in the booming metropolis!" Helena proclaimed. "Sim City, here I come!"
"WooHOO!"
Bottom shrugged it off and entered her room, and closing the door behind her, happy to be out of earshot of her frenetic younger sister.
She took a deep breath, enjoying the calm of her bedroom. Moments of quiet were rare in the Summerdream house, so she chose to savour it.
She sat back on her bed and look around the once-familiar room.
Oberon had been right. Nothing at all had changed.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there before Puck called out to her. "B? Are you still up there?"
"Yes," she called back.
"Are you coming down? I thought we might sit a spell and talk."
"I'll be right there."
After settlng some of her belongings away, she returned downstairs to find Puck waiting for her in the livingroom.
Puck patted the cushion next to him. "Come now, sis. Sit!"
She settled in beside him. "Has Hermia left already?"
"Yes, she went back home, but I'm going to stay for the night. I've missed this place."
"Will she be okay over there all alone? It has to be hard..."
"If anyone can handle it, it's Hermia."
"True enough."
"She wanted to take some time to reflect on it all on her own. As a way of letting go."
Bottom nodded. "It must be hard to come to terms with what happened. It all seems quite unreal."
In true brotherly fashion, he promptly changed to subject to one that suited him better. "So I see you've made some changes to your appearance."
"What about them?"
"Well, it's a little drab. You could do with a bit of makeup."
"I got tired of it. I need a change."
"So, what? You've no time for glamour anymore? What about tradition? Our culture?"
She shrugged. "I feel more comfortable this way now. I'm tired of everything being so flamboyant and loud and ridiculous."
"Ridiculous?! Is that what I am to you now?
"I did mean it that way. It's just a bit over the top, don't you think? I just wanted to fit in."
Oh, is that it? Our ways are suddenly embarrassing to you? Do you find me embarrassing, B?" He reached up and stroked the feather in his hat. "It's the hat, isn't it? Is the hat too much? It's my favourite one. Hermia made it for me, you know."
"No, the hat's lovely, Puck. Hermia is a skillful milliner."
"I'm only playing with you," he said. "Even if you did dislike it, there's no need in me worrying about your terrible taste, is there?"
"Stop it!" She smacked him in the arm.
"I always did have a better fashion sense than you. Your's was... well, a bit brutish, frankly."
"I'm warning you, Puck."
"I know. It's about this professor fellow that's coming to visit you, isn't it? What do you call him? Vidcund Curious, you said?"
"What about him?"
"Are you trying to appear a certain way to him? You seem like you're trying to hide your heritage from this man."
"Well, I've invited him here, haven't I? He'll see all of you. It's not like I'm hiding anything. I told him that we're a unique sort of people. To expect the unexpected."
"So, what have you told him, exactly, little sister? That we're merely nonconformists?"
"Something like that."
Puck threw his hands up dramatically. "Lies! All lies! Don't you ever learn? Lies will only get you in trouble."
As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right on that point. Vidcund would eventually get the details, pointy ears and all.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" she said. "We're not that different from other sims."
"You know what's true."
"We're not, really. Don't you think?"
He smiled the slightest of smiles, obviously humouring her.
"Well, It's not like we practise it! It doesn't even work here. We do things with herbalism and such, but that doesn't make us any different from anyone else."
"You can't even say it, can you?" He leaned over, closer to her face. "Mag-ic. M. A. G. I. C. Magic. It's not a difficult word."
"Do you really believe in that?"
"Of course. Don't you?"
"They were just bedtime stories."
"And how do you figure that means they're not true?"
"They're just stories."
"Most stories are true. Maybe all stories, at least in some sense."
"I've always took those stories like any other childhood fairytale: with a grain of salt."
"Well, fair enough, but you know that some of it is true. I may not have ever gone there, but I know that our mother was the Queen of Faerie and our father was her King."
"All I know is that they live in Veronaville, in the here and now, and they're just the same as anyone else."
"Well, have it as you like it," he said, standing up. "I suppose both versions are probably true."
"Yes," she nodded. "Thank you."
"But we're no like everyone else, and we're not just the same as ordinary sims. We're faeries. You ought not to present yourself as anything else. It's dishonest. And liars never prosper."
"Yes, yes. I know. I'm going to tell him. Eventually."
"Good."
Bottom lifted herself from the chair, and turned to kiss her brother. "It's so good to see you again. How are the wedding plans coming, by the way?"
"Brilliantly. It's going to be a wonderful party."
"I have no doubt."
"You know how I do love a good party."
"Oh, I know it. I'm sure it'll be the party of the century." He smiled, obviously pleased at this idea. "Have Titania and Oberon tried to talk you out of marrying so young yet?"
"Only every other day."
"Who? Them?" she gasped. "That doesn't sound at all like them!"
"I know. They've never been known to speak their minds. And they're oh so very supportive of traditional sim customs like marriage."
"Well they did eventually get married... or sort of. It's not like they changed their ways, or settled much, and why should they? They've never had any problems before, and I'm sure they'd be bored if it were any less than perfectly open."
"Well, they have rings now."
"Yes. Maybe that's the only difference."
"You don't marry so things will be different, B. You marry so things will stay the same."
"Yes, I suppose that's right."
She'd since gotten over her childhood belief that her brother knew everything, but he continued to surprise her with his easy wisdom. He reached up, tipping the brim of his hat to her, making a clicking sound with his tongue.
She smiled and returned the gesture, though she didn't have a hat.
"Let's retire, shall we?" he said. "Tommorrow will be a full day. I'm really looking forward to a good feast."
"Oh me too! Nobody cooks like Oberon does. Nobody!"
Further down the road, Hermia was having a much quieter evening in her grandparent's house, now hers.
She hadn't even mentioned Consort, but he was gone too. Not dead yet, but in a home. On the way there. He required more medical attention than she was able to provide, so he'd asked her to take him. Or he'd said that, anyway, but she really knew that he didn't want anyone to see him in that state. Proud to the very end, like a true Capp.
Alone there, she reflected on the recent deaths and listened to the whispering ghosts. Like anything, she felt better when she faced it head-on. She listened to the whistling wind, drank it in. She felt the pain.
Then, in the morning, she could set it aside.
The evenings were still quite cool, so she lit a fire. The sound of the flames would keep her company.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, causing her to jump.
"I know it's late, and a little forward of me," the woman said, "but I thought I'd come while I still had the nerve."
"Do I know you?" Hermia asked.
"Well, no. Not really. I'm Jules O'Mackey. I was... sort of seeing your brother."
"My brother? You were dating him?"
"Well, sort of. It was complicated."
"With Tybalt, it usually is." She couldn't prevent the sadness from slipping through as she spoke this, and so she added, "Have you heard? About the tragedy?"
Jules nodded.
"Then, why..." she paused, not wanting to seem rude. "I'm sorry, why don't you come inside?" She turned and opened the door.
"I came to tell you..."
Hermia turned around, waiting.
"You have a niece," she said, "and a nephew."
In the morning, Bottom went to meet Vidcund at the train station.
"Vidcund!" she shouted across the platform. "Over here!" She waved her hand furiously in the air.
He put down his suitcase and waved back at her. She rushed over and, much to his surprise, embraced him with a hug.
"It's good to see you!" she said. "I thought for a minute you'd backed out and decided not to come."
"Of course not! I was just sitting at the very back of the train. The damn thing was nearly full when I got on! I almost had to stand the whole way."
"Wow. You're lucky, I guess."
"Lucky?!" Vidcund hadn't thought of it that way. He was more of a glass-half-empty sort of guy. "Well, I guess that's one way of looking at it."
"Nice glasses," she said. "Are they new?"
"Oh, these? No, I've had them forever. They go back to my college days, actually. I probably shouldn't wear them anymore." He'd decided to wear them in a most likely vain attempt to seem youthful, like he still had it going on, but now he was reconsidering them, thinking he must look foolish. He was second guessing the goatee, too.
"No, they suit you!" she said.
"Really?" Vidcund adjusted them and shifted around uncomfortably. "They're my favourite pair, but I've been told they make me look ridiculous. I'm not really known for my fashion sense."
Bottom thought they did make him look a little ridiculous, but this undeniably added to his charm.
"Who told you that? Your sister?"
"Who, Jenny? Hardly! She loves anything that's green."
"Even broccoli?" Bottom gasped, in mock horror.
"Especially broccoli!" He played along.
"Then who? Who's this so-called fashion expert?"
"Oh, nobody. Just... someone. It's not important."
Bottom didn't care much for this response, but she let it go. It was then that she noticed Vidcund noticing her ears. It had taken him longer than she'd expected, mostly because he had a tendency to look away when talking to her.
"Are you surprised?" she asked.
"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."
"No, I'm sorry," she said. "I should have said something. I hope you'll forgive me."
"Of course," he said, nodding.
She watched as he said nothing.
"So... you are?"
"Am I a faery, you mean?" she asked. "Why yes, Vidcund, I am."
"I'm sorry I wasn't completely forthcoming about it," Bottom said, "but it's so distracting, and I wanted to talk shop with you about plants instead."
"It's okay. I understand."
"Well you're here now. Feel like running back to Strangetown?"
He shook his head. "That'd be pretty hypocritical of me."
"How's that?"
"Well, my family is half alien. Half half alien, that is, not full alien. And we even have one of those."
"Really..."
"Yes. My own children are also half alien."
"Oh, you have children, do you? Then you'll fit right in with us. My parents have quite the brood."
"I come from a large family too. I'm sure I'll feel right at home."
"So who..." Bottom considered how best to word her question. "I mean, does the mother of your children live with you?"
"Well, no. Actually, I'd be more like the mother in this situation. I gave birth to them."
"You gave birth to them?!"
"Yeah."
"Get out of town!"
Vidcund glanced at his watch. "Okay, but the next train doesn't arrive for four hours."
Bottom smacked him in the arm. "Come on. Titania and Oberon are cooking a feast for us all today. My older brother and his fiance will be there, too. You'll get to meet them all."
"After you," he said, gesturing towards the exit.
"Then tomorrow, Oberon will take us to the forest. You're going to love it!" She reached for one of his bags, smiling broadly.
"Here, let me get that for you."
Vidcund thought she had one of the prettiest, off-centre, sort of crooked smiles he'd ever seen. He couldn't help but smile back.
Notes:
I've said it before and I'll say it again: it feels good to finally post this! I don't set out to be the simmer who cried update, I swear. I always hope the mentions and teasers will give me a push to stay true to my word and get it finished, but even the best laid plans... well, you know. Anyway, it's good to be moving with this again.
In the (very likely) event that all my timeline hopscotch is throwing you off, please note that this take place just a couple of days before Mortimer dies and PT is diagnosed with the virus (the second frame of time in Chapter 28, where I jumped ahead in time). By the end of Chapter 35, it will have met up with that time, which is the same place Chapters 29, 30, 31, and 33 ended (32 and 34 go a little further). In one overly eventful day, Mortimer dies, Bella vanishes, Charlotte Worthington marries Malcolm Landgraab, Ripp creates Sugar Tits, and the Curious/Smith family gets the news about PTs illness.
Make sense now? No? Well, too bad. ;)
I explained that again so you would hopefully not say "Hey, isn't Bella supposed to be in Belladonna Cove now?" as I am sure a handful (okay, maybe most) of you did. She's not there... yet. That happens just after this. Like, in a couple of days. Clear as mud, right? Well, I tried.
And yeah, I will be going back to straightforward chronological progression, starting with the next chapter. I was getting tired of working the other way, trying to piece together parts of parallel storylines into a single update, keeping the timelines straight as I was going, but doing the parallel stories one after the other brings its own issues, so I'm going to go back to the other way again. Oh, and this current chapter has four parts, by the way. That's why the last teaser didn't actually happen (what a tease, huh? :P) and the feast I mentioned in another post is in the next part, also. Things got long, so I split this one into two. I decided to add more details to the Nervous section, and I'm glad I did that. I enjoy writing about Nervous.
I know I must be getting a reputation for being a bloodthirsty author, but I couldn't help myself. I feel bad, I really do, but Death is a big part of this story. He gets around (just ask Olive).
Oh, and the train station is the Simton Railway Station by leesester and the train set is a neighborhood decoration, the Basic Tramway Set by Criquette.
As always, thank you for reading! ^_^ I really appreciate it.
(Continue to Chapter 35 - part 3)