By the Grace of Sim Gods

Milly: Into the City

The sense of loss deepened. Eliza brought energy to the quiet home, though nothing took away from Milly’s guilt. Knowing Vicky died here, alone, in a peaceful passing, the emphasis was on Milly failing to be at home with her. Going into Vicky’s room had been difficult, but Eliza could not spend three months on the sofa. Milly struggled to pack, trying to be specific and keeping hold of necessary trinkets. The place held three lives; for Milly, it was home, and she wanted to stay, clinging to the past. It’s what she feared; that leaving, those memories would fade. Eliza took down the paintings, she believed would be perfect for their apartment. The city would bring new inspiration for Milly’s art and ways they could honour Vicky and Ziva. Milly remained unconvinced. Everything she knew of life lived within these walls and selling felt disrespectful.

Libby seemed unfazed by the sudden upheaval. The treats and a well-deserved catnap in the crate did wonders as the train pulled into San Myshuno. As for the new apartment, Libby needed to explore. She discovered the warm spot by the electric fire and where the food supply resided. Milly had the choice of two rooms, the first felt warmest, but with no windows, it felt like a prison. The second offered a view; the brick wall of the opposite building and a rusty staircase. If she pressed her face to the glass, she could see through the alley to the children’s play area. The painting gave the room a sense of home. Unfortunately, the jackhammer and neighbouring voices were poor substitutes. She missed the fresh air, squawking seagulls, cats, dogs and the crashing waves. She longed for views over vast oceans, squinting to see the cargo ships.

Milly watched Eliza in the kitchen; she felt ungrateful for the effort her cousin was going to. Eliza provided a second journal, encouraging her to write everything she could remember. It was to keep safe the memories of her life with Vicky and Ziva, and the pets they kept. It would never be the same; Milly questioned her memories, already starting to forget her old life. Could she embrace the city life as Eliza did? Milly closed the book; it would be thoughts for another day. School started in the morning, and she needed to at least attempt to sleep.

Milly opted for the windowless room; the other she suggested would make a good art room or at least half of it. The room was in two parts as Eliza had intended on giving Milly a private bathroom. The builder wanted to exploit the time frame by doubling the cost so she shelved the idea. The other half made for an excellent workout zone. Eliza set up a yoga mat and punch bag, offering to teach her cousin. In her room, Milly kept Ziva’s electronic desk; it looked out of place with the rest of their furnishings. There seemed so little of Ziva around it was nice to hold onto what she did have.

Charlotte: As in Death

Caleb remembers; Vlad is a stickler for tradition. The coffin, funeral charade, and buried six feet down. Charlotte deserved better than fear as she was reborn to him. His hands trembled as the memories flooded his system. Caleb panicked; vampires had no need of breath unless speaking; his was rapid. The silence, blackness, the confines of the cotton-lined wooden box. Clawing the material, tearing, feet kicked, and fists pounded. The skin on his knuckles split, and the smell of his blood intensified his desire. Soil spilled in, pooling at his feet and along his sides. Caleb pulled the fractured wood into the coffin. He forced himself through the gap. Coughing, he held his breath and dug the soil in desperation to sate the growing hunger. His sister was waiting, and an impatient Vlad. Lillith looked over the brother’s soiled clothes. It was clear who Vlad favoured as she had fresh clothes waiting for her.

Those first few moments as the newborn vampire reaches the surface are disorientating. Words twist inside; a reiteration of gabbled nonsense in a strange language. Lillith’s cheeks were flush, and blood rested on plump lips. Vlad tossed a plasma pack, which Caleb ripped into like an animal, spilling half the content on the ground. The sister giggled; Vlad took pleasure in preparing Lilith; her transformation was slow. They swapped blood across several nights. He treated her as a child born of two vampires, lacing her food with plasma fruit. Vlad mixed their blood, slowly injecting his poison into her system. It forced her shift to start before the finality of draining her blood.

It is how Caleb intended to turn Charlotte, to prepare her for the undead life. Discovering her pregnancy, Caleb believed her instincts as a mother would take over. He carried her body to the basement and ran the bath lukewarm. She looked asleep, eyes closed, lips parted. He expected her to giggle, and splash water at him as the cloth stroked the naked form. They had a shower once before, another steamy encounter as his touch tickled and caressed. Charlotte’s laughter was so loud he expected Patrick to discover them. Caleb paused, becoming a vampire; it changed him, disconnected him from the human he had once been. Fear set in; would Charlotte keep her childlike quality? Would they remain connected? This sire bond was permanent, yet Lillith outgrew Vlad. She demanded opportunities he could not offer her. What happens when he and Charlotte reach the crossroads? Mediums suggested some vampires had paths others could not follow. Love in his life remained temporary. Caleb clung to the idea, that this was forever.

Three days would pass from when her heart stopped to the flicker of her eyes. Caleb wanted Charlotte to awaken safe in his arms, her family none the wiser about her transition. He felt confident he could train her and stop her feasting on humans. To make things worse, Caleb was struggling with his hunger reawakened. As he dressed her body, it stiffened. Time was not on his side. Caleb lay, taking care to hold her close. The hardest part was trying to push the plasma packs he saved for her resurrection from his mind.

In death, what would she feel? Were there bright lights, the faces of her loved ones, the welcoming arms of her ancestors? Or stillness, nothing and nowhere? Caleb whispered stories, uncertain if she would be aware of his presence. His recollection of the missing days was hazy. He died in pain and confusion, then awoke moments later hungry and scared.

She was not in the body. There was nothing to see that she would recall, but the feeling was peaceful. Charlotte felt tethered by an invisible thread, a kite dancing on a gentle breeze and safe. Her heart filled with Caleb’s offered blood. The virus multiplied and claimed her cells. It started as a dull ache in her heart, pressure building in the chambers. Harrowing pain burned through her body. A thousand needles stabbed her muscles; they twitched, contorting her. A coffin restrained these movements. Seeing them, Caleb understood why containment at birth was necessary. Charlotte screamed, an involuntary release of the air remaining in her lungs. She bolted upright, and her purple eyes popped open.

The first image includes “Funeral Grief and grave poses” https://joanneberniceposes.weebly.com/

And https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-mods/title/zombie-pose-pack-ingame/id/1379596/

The second image pose comes from https://cassandragrusel86.tumblr.com/post/179308570294/sleepy-days-v2-a-posepack-by-wrixles-this

Charlotte: Blood Rite

Part Two

Her eyes pleaded; Caleb backed away; he could feel the weight of Vlad, his voice warning him what would happen. Curtains twitched; Charlotte swore she would find a way to live immortal. Either Caleb turned her, or she would knock on every door and welcome death if that’s what they offered. A life without him was not how Charlotte planned to exist. He dragged her to his home. Charlotte wailed, loathing her children, the body that bore those human creatures. Worse, hatred for herself, those bitter feelings she assured would pass. Every day she forced herself to look at her children, to feel the love a mother should have. Charlotte felt nothing.

He let go; Caleb’s mind clouded in a red mist; Charlotte exposed her neck, the invitation to make her his mate. His dark form seized control; teeth sank deep into the carotid artery. Blood rushed into Caleb’s mouth, bubbled around the seal of his lips on her neck. Charlotte held on; her nails dug into his jacket against the pain. Caleb squeezed her body tighter, biting harder, and a weak yelp escaped her lips.

Charlotte tasted bile, her stomach twisted, tightening. Her heartbeat quickened, pumping more blood through her ruptured throat. Her shallow breaths rasped in Caleb’s ear. Icy sensations flowed through her feet and up her legs. Fingers numbed, loosening her grip. Charlotte shivered, skin grew pale as Caleb feasted. Her eyes glazed, the world appeared foreign, and words failed to hold meaning or sense.

The body felt limp and cold, the intense blue eyes which captivated him, dimed. Caleb ripped his teeth from her neck, shaking her, his body hummed, warm, aroused. He licked the blood oozing from her neck. Her head dropped back; his eyes widened, gripping her tighter. Caleb carried her inside away from prying neighbours. A sharp nail sliced his wrist, allowing the blood to drip into her mouth. Charlotte struggled to swallow. He tilted her head back further to open her throat. The blood from her carotid artery had slowed; her heart stopped, beat, then stopped.

Caleb pushed down on her sternum, the blood sprayed from her mouth but he did not stop. Tears stung his eyes, as her ribs cracked with his weight. He added pressure to the wound and forced more blood into her throat. Caleb moved behind, lifting the dead weight to a seated position. He held her mouth shut by dropping her chin to chest. Stroking the oesophagus to mimic swallowing he hoped it was enough. When he could no longer hear the occasional heartbeat, the body cold and still, Caleb waited.

Caleb’s Bite pose can be found here
https://ts4-poses.tumblr.com/post/624167598456700928/vampire-poses-sims-4-vampire-bite-3-vampire

The carrying pose can be found here
https://sandy-sims.tumblr.com/post/159170426826/ts4-storytelling-pose-pack-1-request-by

Charlotte: Blood Rite

Part One

Forgotten Hollow, as its name suggests, is a hamlet. A quiet place off the beaten track surrounded by dark, foreboding trees. Five homes surrounded an empty park, once a vibrant place; filled with children. Caleb could recall playing there with his sister Lilith. Their laughter echoed in his mind, a life long forgotten when Vlad came to rip the sun from their world.

The mansion, a blackened building from years of neglect, became home to Vlad Strauss. He was a tall, slender, and pale man. Lilith became fascinated with him, and into his blood-driven world, they and this place fell. Lilith left some years ago, no longer able to stand the sight of the master, his heartless perspective. Caleb wanted to remember if the sun shone bright, or it seemed that way in his memories. The hamlet remained dull. When summer came, there was a thick air, as though looking at the world through a dusty lens or at a faded photograph.

Vlad suspected Caleb was drawing attention to the protected space they resided in. Humans were rare in these parts. The odd hiker stumbled through lost. They either disappeared or were sent on their way dazed and confused by their experience. Whatever happened, they never returned.

The encounter with Charlotte and the taste of her blood changed him. Caleb rediscovered his darker tendencies, a desire for human blood. The majority here received plasma donations from the hospital. Alongside the plasma fruit, they lived normal lives. Many had jobs and social evenings without the fear of discovery. These blessed vampires had the power to walk in the sun. It was also a curse, to maintain themselves, they were weak, strength akin to a human. Some evolved to eat food laced with plasma fruit making it easier to blend into human society. His sister was the latter.

Vlad noted Caleb was losing that control. An increased order of plasma for a single vampire was dangerous. He would bring the force of the Spellcasters, a group Vlad despised or worse. Vampires who craved fresh human blood needed incarceration. Forced into slumber, a nailed coffin buried in an unmarked grave for eternity. Vlad cut off his supply, leaving Caleb with plasma fruit, a poor substitute. Human blood made them stronger, enhanced their powers, and satisfied their needs.

Caleb wrestled with stories, buried vampires starved to the point of insanity. A resting place disturbed after centuries decimated a third of sim nation. He salivated at the thought of bodies ripped apart, devoured. The slaughter of humans, fae, wolves and llamas in a bloodthirsty rampage. Vlad was a young man, human when to save his village, the life he knew, he chose to become one to stop them. Other hunters, consumed by the demonic virus became the embodiment of living death. Neither human nor Vampire, stuck in transformation, are referred to as zombies. Their bodies were nailed into the coffins and laid to rest at the side of Vlad’s home. Caleb could hear their screams, it added to his torment and the desperation he was feeling to devour a human.

So why did she have to come?

Caleb avoided Patrick’s calls. He stopped looking for Charlotte when the hunt took control. Lilith brought him back to Forgotten Hollow, giving him her supply. She encouraged him to order the plasma packs, on the condition he mixed them with plasma fruit. He had ignored Lilith’s conditions needing the purest form. Caleb waited with desperation, wanting a human to pass through.

It was her; the scent waivered through his nostrils as they flared. The blonde hair, teary eyes and puffy cheeks, her arms pulled tight around her body for warmth. He had never brought her here, but she sat in the park. Her presence taunted him. Charlotte’s blood sent him down this road. The intimacy when his veins filled; went beyond hunger and lust; it was all-consuming. The feeling drove him against the setting sun. The final rays blistered his skin; Caleb felt none of that; his focus was on her.

Patrick: The Dating Game

The house feels exhaustive as the twins learn to walk and talk. Patrick brings his work home with him, writing reports and researching funding opportunities. Finding himself working late into the night when the twins sleep. He knows he is no substitute for the parents they need. The fear Patrick is not doing right by the girls haunts both waking and dream-filled sleep. All he can do is watch, waiting for the day Charlotte or social services steals them away from him. Patrick works safe, knowing Sparky will bark if the girls stray too far. The big hairy dog is the best nanny they could ask for as he tolerates them grabbing his fur. Sparky settles with the twins, guarding them as they sleep or watching them play. They climb onto him as he lays, pretending he is a horse. Daciana feeds him bits of her food or gives him her toys to chew.

The type of woman Patrick was looking for needed to love children or approved by his girls. The nannies he hired met that criteria; he was fond of them, although he believed it was inappropriate. Patrick changed his views; a call from Hannah saw him inspect his beard for food particles. He ran a comb through and made an effort to wear something free of toddler mess. Singles night at the bar hanging out with Hannah and a few of her friends. The music pumped, and the conversations grew loud. Voices competing with the throbbing bass lines did nothing to dispel his headache. Patrick worried he had forgotten how to sustain an adult discussion. His job involved plants where communication meant observation. At home, babbling words made sense to him, so how could he talk to these women?

Patrick learns how his desires and those of the women in the bar are not always compatible. Hannah clarified they were out as friends, a hint to the “let’s see what happens”, so Patrick eyed the bar, hopeful. Arlene and Lia were single mothers; they were happy to talk. The discussion focused on the best creams for nappy rash. This followed how to persuade fussy tots to eat their vegetables. Luliana loved her food; the colours interested her. Patrick smiled, certain Luliana had yet to meet a food she did not like. Daciana was fussy; she poked at her meal, screwing her face as though the flavour seemed off. She would taste everything but getting her to eat a full meal was hard work. A selection of dishes might narrow the likes and dislikes, except time was a factor. There was never enough.

Maki seemed forward in her interest and had a definite description of what she wanted. A full-time father of two who wanted some fun was her ideal, as he would always have his hands tied. The notion of having a committed relationship, Maki had no time for that in her life. She enjoyed travel, speaking of all the places she had been and yet to go. This got Patrick thinking aloud, how he too missed the travel plans he once made. The carefree spirit of the younger twin and Maki, inspired him to reconsider this. Maki grew bored of the conversation. Patrick expressed his desire to take the girls camping, when they were older. With a heavy sigh, Patrick knew dating was beyond him, at least for the foreseeable future. Mothers wanted to compare notes, which was easy, though not a romantic subject. As for the single ladies, they were looking for something he could not offer.

Patrick: Daddy’s Girls

Patrick embraced his role, gushing over the changes in his girls. He wanted to celebrate every detail. He overcompensated; they had heard nothing from Charlotte or Caleb. In the wake of Vicky’s death, Eliza spent less time helping him. It was understandable as she helped Milly adjust to life without her mother. Patrick was alone as he planned the girl’s birthday, they might not remember it, but he would, so it had to feel special. A chocolate cake, Patrick would eat himself, and hot dogs were the order of the day. He smiled, knowing the sofa would soon partake in ketchup. The sticky fingers and faces, those smiles, made every day worthwhile.

The girls knew no difference, they clung to him when they were sad. The excitement in learning something new, Patrick loved he shared in that too. What hurt him was there was not even a message from Charlotte as the girl’s birthday came and went. Eliza and Milly visited; it had been hard on their cousin. Eliza’s flat was still undergoing renovations, they were still living in Brindleton Bay. Eliza felt weird sleeping in Vicky’s room, so she took the sofa. The back pain affected her job, and the twin’s constant demands on visiting family made it worse.

Patrick had home renovations as the girl’s required a proper place to sleep. Since Charlotte left he kept their cribs in the lounge so he could get a decent night’s sleep. The Kitchen required child locks on the cupboards and an array of toys. The space adjoining the kitchen, Patrick decided would make the perfect nursery. When they first moved in Emilie used it as storage. The irony was the space Emilie intended to be Charlotte’s bedroom. Of course, she preferred the basement rooms alongside him. Patrick understood his father’s desire to own the former church. The downside was, in winter, it could feel drafty.

Striking a balance was never going to come easy. Patrick wrestled with emotions. His anger at Charlotte for abandoning her children, and the growing love he held for his nieces. How might he feel if she turned up demanding their return? He doesn’t want to report her absence, but not doing so is harmful. The social workers would be more than happy to rip them from his arms and put them in care. All he needed was for Charlotte to turn up and sign a waiver giving him full custody. Afterwards, she could disappear as she wished. Every day he left them in the care of the nannies Erika (blonde) and Hannah (brunette); he worried. One day they would realise the truth and they. Luliana had so much of her mother, the blonde hair blue eyed child; she was sweet and loving. Daciana would appear quiet, watching before deciding to make her presence known. She did, very much so, a whirlwind through the house and overshadowing the younger twin.

His love life hit a dry patch, and Julianna seemed to have distanced herself from him since the closet. Patrick had called her after; he hoped for a repeat performance, except they could try the bedroom. The closet; would be a fond memory, fumbling with buttons and getting cut on a broken hanger. Patrick grinned, surprised they managed to use some protection. Things happened so fast, and he always knew they would have great chemistry when the clothes came off. The lack of dates was an issue when the toddlers went to bed. He missed the nonsense babbling, teaching them new words and hearing them call him daddy. Sparky took space on the sofa. His idea of conversation included tummy scratches and snoring. He would love to have another special lady, one he could make out in the closet. Someone who would love playing hide and seek with the girls. A woman to cuddle on the sofa, happy to watch scary movies and kid’s cartoons.

Milly: Where do Artist’s go to rest?

She looked asleep, soft white hair tied back. Her green eyes closed, and a hint of the blush gave her cheeks some warmth. A blouse buttoned to the neck and paired with a peach waistcoat and skirt. Vicky always loved her skirts. Milly added a boutonniere made from wildflowers she had found near the bay. Eliza squeezed Milly’s hand; things were going to change.

Milly busied herself in the kitchen. Vicky laughed, nuzzling the cat, teasing how Libby may be in for a fishy treat. It was not the first time Milly wanted to cook dinner. Her early efforts consisted of grilled cheese or rubbery eggs and burnt bacon. That evening the challenge was to recreate one of her favourite dishes, Fish Tacos. The contrast of spicy white fish against the crunch of the hard shell, the cool crisp lettuce. It made her mouth water, thinking of it. She placed a small dish on the end of the counter; Libby wriggled in Vicky’s arms, eager to get her share of the fish. It was pointless wrestling with a cat.

They sat in front of the TV; to enjoy a successful effort. Milly chatted excited; she and her cousins were going bowling at the weekend. If luck was on her side, Milly planned to beat her previous score of seventeen over three frames. Vicky frowned, hoping they would spend some time together. Her daughter laughed, there would, of course, be time for their usual brunch. An unhealthy dose of food from a restaurant they chose from one of Ziva’s old hats. Milly never minded where they went; she wanted her usual BLT and orange juice. These days with Vicky were important. Milly felt the imminent reminder that her mother would not be around much longer. Part of her wanted to ignore it. The other hugged herself every time Vicky sounded disappointed. Milly felt increasing guilt for wanting to go out with friends.

Milly was in school; she waited for the bell, desperate to get home. She was getting straight As. It was amazing, Vicky would remind her how proud she was and how impressed Ziva would have been. Milly ran into the house shouting, not seeing her mum downstairs, she ran to the bedroom. Milly tripped over Libby sleeping on the seventh step, the cat wailed, then curled again. The air seemed to get sucked from the room, the energy drained, and Milly’s face turned pale. She stood frozen for a moment; the paper floated to the floor. A voice croaked; it did not sound like her; the tears stung her eyes. Milly shook Vicky begging her to wake up. Dropping to the floor, she called Eliza. Her cousin spoke, but Milly struggled to reply; she stared at the phone, resting it on the bedside table. Eliza’s concerned voice crackled through. Milly drew in her knees and rested her head, sobbing.

Eliza: Choices

The Spice District hosted its own festivals. None compared to the fun Eliza experienced at the Humour and Hijinks. It was the beautiful fireworks; they brought her comfort in the early year. She recalled watching them from her window when she first arrived. The people, enjoying themselves below as she hid from the world. Eliza had attended a few times, laughing at the wannabe comics and falling foul to the pranksters. Often she went to feel a part of something. Living in the city; it was lonely, and these festivals offered a temporary friendship. People who would not give a second glance in the street; stopped to tell you a joke and start a conversation. She had tagged along with neighbours, a hint of disappointment as Scarlett was not with them.

The distraction she longed for was not the company of her brother. He seemed hassled on the phone, the twins screaming in the background. Charlotte had vanished, and now Caleb refused to return Patrick’s calls. Part of him wanted to call the authorities, except he had grown attached to the two girls. The idea they would end up in foster care, raised by anyone else but him. Patrick could not bear the torture of losing them.

He fought tears, explaining how he failed Charlotte; and feared the same would become of the twins. Daciana and Luliana were growing, their birthday a few months away. Their parents’ absence concerned him; they should be bonding with their babies. Instead he had begun referring to himself as their father. Eliza glanced at the Jokester tea they were here to enjoy. She pushed it away, resting her hand over Patricks, her guilt at not being more present in their lives. Patrick took his hand back; he needed to get home. The twins would have the best father he could be.

Eliza lost her desire for humorous antics; she walked towards the tube station. Art Gallery sat illuminated and welcoming. She had intended to visit since she had lived next to it. Art had provided her with a space to meditate, relax and process the choices she wanted to make or had made. Charlotte never came to her; as Eliza left without a word, so had she. The difference had been their ages; Charlotte was still a child when Eliza ran away. A foolish notion, someone so young could never understand those emotions. How could Eliza have explained the cruelty of their father? Eliza wondered if that was the reason; Charlotte feared no one could understand.

As a child, her sister had begged in e-mails for Eliza to come home, desperate to know why she had abandoned her family. Eliza never explained, at least not to her siblings; it sat as a festering wound between them. She shook the spray can, working her magic on the mural. Their choices separated and disbanded their family. Eliza could not change Charlotte’s mind. As for her own, Eliza would need to make peace with her past to build her future.

Eliza: Home, Sweet, Spice

Eliza breathed in the stale air. The apartment needed ventilation having been empty for months. There had been a degree of uncertainty with the bank as her credit rating had been poor. A boost in her career secured the loan she needed to buy the apartment. The move over to the spice district had not been an easy decision. As a council neglected area, until a recent cash injection, remained overlooked. for redevelopment. When money changed hands it seemed the council would ignore the rumours. His work had unsavoury associations. The papers reported backstreet deals and unproven accounts of criminal activities. Eliza decided she would accept that life was not perfect. The building she lived in was owned by the Carrington Corporation. It was the legal front of the man’s business and they intended to make life in the city affordable.

The current layout did not meet her expectations. It had a large open living area with a kitchen, two modest bedrooms and a bathroom. In her mind, there would be three bedrooms. The third serves as a fitness zone and, should Milly be joining her, a place for her to be expressive and creative. Where the kitchen resided, Eliza planned for this to become her bedroom as it offered the best views. It would take a significant cash injection, but it would be worth every penny. She felt uneasy about where this was going to come. Money from the sale of the Brindleton Bay home, Vicky hoped Eliza could create a stable home for Milly. Eliza’s finances would pay for storage as she collected furniture for that day.

For now, her footsteps echoed through the emptiness. The Art District rental may have come with cockroaches and rats, but the petite size was cosy. Eliza tried to imagine this place feeling homey and warm. Lost in her thoughts, sketching the new floor plan with sticky tape, Eliza yelped. Her neighbours arrived to greet her, welcoming her to the building. Among the welcome gifts of bread, eggs, and milk, a redhead caught her attention. They were wearing a fitted red suit and heeled boots. Another neighbour linked her arm enquiring where the kitchen was. Eliza glanced back over her shoulder as the redhead wandered around the open space.

Eliza listened to the conversation, as she cooked and stole glances at the redhead. The excited babble of nosey neighbours eager to discover Eliza secrets through observations. As she served French Toast, Eliza asked the individual’s name, Scarlett. They were quiet, but that smile, their laugh, Eliza had to pinch herself. She bite her lip, the name very apt considering their dress. Then laughed as she heard Emilie’s voice in the back of her mind reminding her it was rude to stare. She couldn’t help it; something about Scarlett captivated Eliza.

Milly: The Creative Teen

Milly hit the teenage year with a “Wow”. Her long ginger curls and slender frame reminded Vicky of her youth. The main difference being, by this time, her hair had turned white. Her green eyes and dark complexion showed no signs obvious signs of being Ziva’s relative. It pained Vicky; she hoped Rylan’s genes were strong enough that his twin would shine. They shared a love of Art. Milly had already decided she should dedicate her life to the brilliance of colour. Vicky grimaced at the thought. The refreshed bedroom, suit a growing teen. It might not withstand the flourishes of Milly’s creative flair.

Vicky remained cautious; Milly wanted to stretch her teenage wings, join her cousins. They spent weekends at the lounge in Whiskermans Wharf. Yahir rallied behind her, eager to persuade Vicky she would be safe with them. The two had remained close despite him being a few years older. Yahir grinned, determined to teach Milly all the mischievous antics he had done. It worried Vicky; she wanted Milly to be a little girl forever. Yahir teased, promising to cause trouble. Milly was the youngest and, in her eyes, needed protection. Eliza felt Vicky’s mothering was too involved; Milly was likely to rebel against her. It was with reluctance Eliza decided to volunteer and go with the teens.

Milly’s initial freedom took a downward turn. She felt detached from her cousins; they spent so much time together. She watched them pretend to drink alcohol. As regulars, the bartender humoured their desire to be adults by mixing mocktails. Yahir laughed as whipped cream was added to cola, imitating beer. She took herself to the pool, swinging her legs through the water. A guilt had begun to set in, leaving Vicky alone for too long; she worried about her. They had already lost Uncle Simon, Vicky’s brother, Rylan, Ziva and Emilie. Every moment with her remaining mother was precious. After a couple of hours Milly tugged her clothes back on, hovering near Eliza, hoping she would take the hint. Her cousins booed as Milly and Eliza left; the eldest cousin slung her arm around, hugging her tight. Eliza understood even if the rest couldn’t.

As her initial weeks at Bayside High came to a close, Milly proved herself an academic achiever. Vicky bubbled with pride. This was what she had been looking for; a sign that Ziva, her influence, was buried deep inside their daughter. A flurry of excellent grades were a promise for Milly and her potential future. Vicky wanted to push her daughter to consider other avenues. Find a career she could embody for herself and not because of her artistic influence. Milly teased how her mother feared the competition she would bring to the gallery. She jumped and giggled as Vicky threatened to douse her in the water used for refreshing the brushes.