(Un)Pleasantview - Chapter 3 Part I: Fire
Warnings: Nudity, sexual references, mild violence and angry fairies.
“Mallory...”
“Oh, Mallory...”
Shadows haunted Mallory Crumplebottom. Everywhere she went, she could see it in the corner of her eye. And then there was the voices...
“Mallory...”
She hadn't always been like this. There had been a time where her name had no control over her. But alas, it seems her mother had given her the name Mallory in earnest, for she was indeed, ill-fated.
Robert, her beloved husband, was dead. Crushed by a glass chandelier, his departure to the other world was unexpected and unwelcome.
The grief ate at her, and not even Titania's humour held its usual charm anymore.
Mallory had become a shell, dejected and ready to give up.
And then the apparition appeared in the mirror.
“Oh, Mallory, you poor innocent child,” the apparition whispered, but there was no sympathy on the woman's green face.
“Who are you?” Mallory demanded. “What do you want?”
The apparition smiled wickedly. “I am Morgana. And I want to help you.”
“Help me?” Mallory scoffed. “How?”
Morgana's wicked smile seemed to become even more wicked.
“You miss your beloved, do you not?”
“I do.”
“I will resurrect him.”
It was like a bucket of icy cold water had been dropped on her, creeping over her skin, freezing everything as it went.
“Only the Reaper can return life to the dead, and even he has limits,” Mallory argued. Her Robert was gone, she was never going to see him again.
Morgana tutted, her eyes twinkling dangerously. “My sweet little Mallory, I am a powerful witch, the most powerful of them all. Your Robert will return to you, you have my word.”
Mallory wanted to argue, but it was like a hand had wrapped around her heart and squeezed, reminding her of the pain that followed the gaping hole that had formed in her heart. She wanted to see him again...hold him again...
“What's the catch?”
“I need you to make it rain fire.”
A lot has happened in ten years.
Jennail and Nylissit both tied the knot. Truthfully, Jennail's marriage was no surprise to her friends, but Nylissit? She always seemed like the type to go where the wind takes her...
Don has grown into a fine man, or piece of meat as some ladies like to say. Dina did not quite see what other females obviously saw, but he had a good heart.
Bella did whatever Bella did.
Her activities ranged from golf,
to growing questionable plants
and exploring her sexuality. Dina didn't talk much to her, but that wasn't anything new.
Michael was still around, though. He was a good guy, and had been a great friend to Nina through the tough times.
Dina adored him, but she couldn't help but shake that things were a bit awkward between them.
Nina, unlike when they were children, was blooming. She had finally climbed out of her shell, and while she was still shy at times, she was also much bolder.
She was involved in all kinds of things, including a sport club. She no longer hid behind Dina, nor did she wallow in despair.
It was a good change, and Dina knew that Don and Michael were both heavy influences on the change in her sister.
No longer did their mother's death weigh on poor Nina's shoulders.
And, of course, there was Mortimer.
He was an easy man to love, and even easier to please.
Despite his outspoken curiosity, he had been raised that when something did not concern you, it was non of your damn business.
It was one of the few traits that Dina had come to admire in Cornelia Goth, the woman knew how to put her son in his place.
Unfortunately, outside of that and a few other things, a relationship with Cornelia was awfully strained. Maybe it was her overbearing grumpiness, or maybe it was the fact that even after spending hours trying to look presentable, Dina still felt dirty when she stood next to the Goth matriarch.
Whatever it was, no girl was obviously perfect for the Mortimer Goth in his mommy's eyes.
Gunther was different. He was, in many ways, his wife's opposite. That didn't make him a slob, nor was he overly meek, and he did have his flaws, but overall, he was a good, supporting father. Dina was always treated as an equal in his presence, even by his wife, which said a lot about the respect the family felt for him.
But there was a sadness to him, the very same sadness Dina had sensed when she first met him.
Of course, she now knew why he was so troubled. It hadn't been long after she became friends with Mortimer that he had pulled her aside and voiced his worries.
“Do not misunderstand, Dina,” he had said. “I am in no way condemning your relationship with my son. But, as a father, I worry.”
He had continued to tell her of his first wife, and how she had been many years his senior, and that their relationship had also started very much like hers with Mortimer - as an unusual friendship.
When he spoke of her, Gunther always appeared so serene in his nostalgia. It was a beautiful sight. But, of course, the expression always faded at the end of the tale, where he must admit he broke her heart. Gunther simply wished to save his son the same heartbreak. Dina respected that, but she also knew that a parent couldn't protect their children forever.
Lolita was Gunther and Dina's little secret. Cornelia ignored anything to do with the woman and Mortimer was indifferent to her existence. And that was okay. Dina felt privileged that Gunther had confided in her, her compassion was one of her strong points. Gunther always joked that Dina was a lot like Lolita in that sense, and that if they ever meet, it would be interesting.
Who knew that day would come so soon?
“Yes, mother, I understand.”
Saturdays were always a lazy day for Dina and Mortimer. While Mortimer usually slept his week's work off, Dina had to knuckle down and study to get that pesky honour's degree. Sometimes she questioned why she even bothered applying for the thing in the first place...
“Yes, we'll be there.”
Today, however, it did not appear they would be following their usual routine.
“Of course Dina will be coming,” Mortimer argued, clearly not impressed by whatever Cornelia had said. Dina had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. A few minutes passed where Mortimer was absolutely silent, then he grunted and hung up.
“That's rude, darling,” Dina hummed.
“She called you a bimbo,” Mortimer huffed. “I think that gives me a right to hang up on her rudely.”
“What did she want?”
“My father is sick.”
Dina waited for him to elaborate.
“Very sick, Deeds. Apparently the medics couldn't say much. They were, in my mother's words 'tongue tied'.”
“Is he...?” Dina didn't dare finish the sentence.
“Don't know, at this rate anything can happen.”
“I'm sorry,” Dina whispered as she snuggled close to him. Mortimer shrugged, he had always been accepting that death came for everyone eventually.
“Do you want a distraction until we must enter the dragon's den?”
“Hmm, what did you have in mind?”
“Oh, you know, this and maybe a little bit of that.”
“Well, no objections from me. I could do with some distracting.”
“Should we be worried about these serial killings?” Michael Bachelor asked. “They don't appear to be random.”
“It's hate crime,” Nina replied. “Hate crime is never random, and there isn't much we can do about it.”
“Oh,” Olive Thanasia hummed as she appeared in the doorway. “I don't think it's hate crime, my dear. Humans don't usually drain bodies of blood.”
“You think it's vampires, too?” Michael asked.
“No,” was the curt reply. “If it were vampires, Vicki would have taken action by now.”
“Then why drain them?”
“Somebody is after Supernatural blood, obviously. Blood is an ingredient in many magical rituals and elixirs, especially in the area of dark magic.”
Michael knew he was being paranoid, but as Olive said that, his gaze immediately shifted to the toddler on the floor. He wasn't nearly as acute to sensing things as Nina and Dina seemed to be, but he could sense there was something different about the child. And he wasn't entirely sure if it was a good thing. There were all kinds of whispers going around Strangetown about Dis Thanasia; the most prominent being he had been conceived the day his father perished in a fire. Some others claimed the child wasn't Hugh's at all.
Michael mentally chided himself. No, he cannot doubt his friend. Olive was a good, honest woman. She wouldn't betray the man she loved.
“Are you alright, Mikey?” Nina's voice snapped him from his reverie.
“Yeah, I'm good. What's the time?”
“Two.”
“Oh snap, we better go pick up Don. His train should have arrived by now.”
Nina nodded. “Just let me go change and we can go.”
“Why the long face, Skeleton?”
Olive smiled weakly at the nickname. “I just got a phone call from Dina. Gunther Goth is very sick.”
“Oh no...”
Sometimes Jon Smith Tricou forgot that his wife wasn't young, for she certainly looked it. He could stare at her all day; she was like a work of fine art; perfectly sculpted to the finest detail; with an air of mystery to her.
Her closest friend, Lolita, was very much the same, but Jon could not appreciate Lolita the way he appreciated Jennicor.
Maybe it was because Lolita was even older. Maybe it was because she had been married to his best friend. Or maybe it was because he had witnessed first-hand that despite her shy and quiet nature, she was a force to be reckoned with. She was, after all, like fire. One moment calm and serene, warming you from the inside out; and the next, a raging force ready to destroy you. He could still remember the day he learned she was immortal.
He had been a young man, not even 25 yet.
His best friend, Gunther, had been silly enough to tie the knot early, but Lolita was a sweet girl, and young Jon had liked her. Even now, as a greying old man, he still held her in high regard.
Back then he hadn't really been interested in romance. His father had become redundant and their family finances were horrid. Jon spent most of his post-college days trying to clean up his father's mess and comforting his mother.
He had no fun, nor much of a social life, despite Gunther and Lolita's efforts to get him out of the house.
Until a nomadic carnival passed through town. Run by gypsies, it sounded like a madhouse and just what Jon Smith needed to escape from his depression.
He visited the event alone. It was odd affair, held at night in a secret location.
He saw objects of wide variety, some, he wasn't even certain were legal.
However, the creatures these gypsies kept were definitely not legal. At least, not in the way they were caged and put on display, like they were objects rather than people.
Jon's anger rose with every cage he passed.
And then he reached her cage.
He immediately knew what she was, the pointy ears and scaled legs gave it away.
And when she looked up into his eyes, he froze. Those eyes...he could see the wisdom behind them, the pain, the suffering...
...her eyes were exactly like Lolita's. At the time he had not understood this, because in his eyes, Lolita Goth was just a normal human girl. But they were the same, how, he did not know, but it was those familiar eyes that solidified his decision.
He would save her, even if it meant breaking the law...and possibly being captured by the crazy gypsies.
He had planned to do it alone. But the longer he tried to come up with a plan, the more he realised he did not have the power to do anything. His agitation became obvious, especially to his friends.
Gunther and Lolita had confronted him, and in his desperation, he spilled the beans.
Instead of being called an idiot, Lolita had given him a comforting embrace and Gunther offered to help. And so, the three put their heads together and the day for the rescue finally came.
Jennicor has been by his side ever since.
And seeing as she had befriended Lolita, the redhead had been by his side as well.
And it was his shoulder she cried on when Gunther broke her heart.
He loved Lolita. She was a sister to him. But there was just some strangeness to her that Jennicor did not have that he could not comprehend. And while it miffed him, he made peace with it. Because sometimes he did wonder if maybe he was just running away with his imagination...
He did that often.
“Jon?” Jennicor's voice suddenly snapped Jon from his inner monologue.
“Hm?”
“The phone is ringing,” Lolita stated.
“Ah,” Jon hummed. “Let's take a break.”
While Jennicor moved to answer the phone, Jon allowed Lolita to have a look at his incomplete masterpiece. He rarely allowed others to see his work before completion, but Jennicor and Lolita were special cases.
“Beautiful, as always.”
He smiled at her praise. However, his smile faded when he saw Jennicor's expression upon hanging up the phone.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Gunther is dying.”
Jon had not seen Lolita in such shock since the divorce.
Cornelia saw her even before she had the chance to knock on the door.
With a heavy sigh, the elderly woman mentally told herself to remain calm, and then with a heavy heart, went to greet the one person she so wished she could ignore forever.
“I knew you would come,” was Cornelia's cold greeting.
Lolita did not seem disturbed by her tone, and her face remained neutral as they stared at each other.
Finally, Cornelia sighed. “He's upstairs.”
Lolita did not utter a word as she walked straight past the Goth matriarch and into the house. Lolita had never set foot in this house, but as she looked around, she could see Cornelia's influence everywhere. However, she did also see some obvious remnants of Gunther and Frida. The thought was comforting, but also depressing, since Frida was long gone. Nobody knew where she ran off to after her argument with her father ten years ago.
Cornelia had disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lolita to find Gunther by herself. She didn't mind, it would give her a moment to gather her wits.
But, alas, the short time alone did nothing for her nerves. The minute she walked into the room where he lay on a bed, it was like a bucket of ice cold water was tossed over her.
He had aged. To be expected, he was only human. But he did not appear to have aged well, and the presence of disease was obvious on his face. And while Lolita's heart clenched painfully in her chest, she could not fight the waves of love that washed over her. Even after all these years, even after he had ripped her heart out of her chest and stomped on it, she loved him.
His dark eyes had not changed, they had simply gained more wisdom.
“Do my eyes deceive me? Has Death come to snatch my wretched soul? Lolita Goth would never dare set foot in this house,” Gunther whispered in awe.
“No, Lolita Goth would not, but Lolita Gossamer would.”
Gunther smiled. His smile hadn't changed at all over the years. It was a nostalgic sight. She was not sure what he was thinking, but Gunther moved, grunting as he stood. She stood with him, worried that he might not be well enough to walk. But he waved her offer of assistance away, and instead reached out to caress her cheek.
“Are you really here?” he asked.
Lolita shivered at his touch, but not because he hadn't touched her in decades, or because she had missed the emotions his touch used to evoke. Rather, she shivered because she could feel it - a darkness swirling just underneath his skin.
“Yes, I'm really here,” she whispered, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She did not understand. The Goths have been without magic for centuries. She knew they had their magic stripped from them as a final judgement due to the actions of one of their ancestors.
No witch or warlock had been born into their family since, even if the other parents was not of the Goth bloodline.
So then, why? Why was there dark magic coursing through Gunther's veins? And where had it come from?
“Yeah, I love you too, Nina. Good luck at the championship,” Dina said.
“No, it's okay, just focus on your soccer. Mortimer and I will keep you guys updated. Yes, I'll pass on your well-wishes to Gunther and Cornelia. Okay, bye.”
“Ready?” Mortimer asked.
“No. Are you?”
Mortimer shrugged. Dina clasped his hand tightly, making it silently clear that she was there for him. He squeezed her hand in return.
They walked to his house from the station in silence, neither sure on what to say. Not that there was much to say.
“Deeds, are you alright? Did you see something?”
Dina nodded.
“What did you see?”
Author comments:
Finally, after a seriously long delay, the first part of chapter 3 is here! I hope the wait was worth it. Things were insane - I had exams, final assignments - the works, all just piling up. I'm done for the year now, so finally I can sit and enjoy Sims again!
I'm also very pedantic when it comes to my writing. I may think I have a concrete plan for a plot in my head, but my ideas are always in flux. Part 2 of this chapter was supposed to have a mightly cliffhanger, but that might (emphasis on the might) be pushed to chapter 4 instead. Please bear with my crazy and messy head!
Also, for those who may have missed it, (Un)Pleasantview now has a spin-off/sequelish story called 'The Chosen'. It's also here on my lj and an index can be found on the sticky post at the top of my journal. Just a warning: it does not have pictures. Only writing!