By the Grace of Sim Gods

Eliza: The Rodriguez Siblings

Patrick started his schooling pocketing supplies, Emilie hoped it was once, but calls from the principal accused him of being a kleptomaniac. Emilie frown disappointed, Patrick twists his foot into the rug, shrugging at what he had done without apology. His misbehaviour gained him a cool reputation amongst his classmates, meaning he was unlikely to stop any time. Rylan yelled, it scared the children, despite Patrick being the troublesome son, he reprimanded all.

Music had a special place in Eliza’s heart, but she relished her growing friendship circle. Being popular, an unintended effect, children wanted to join her Social Butterflies, the pirate ship Rylan spent a fortune on keeping them entertained after school. Patrick hung at the edge, feet shuffling, waiting for an invitation to play. She rolled her eyes, Patrick was welcome, although unofficially a member, he added excitement to their seafaring adventure.

With creative use of language combined with a wild imagination, Eliza captivated her audience. Tiny hand made puppets, named, characters developed, she insisted everyone sat and watched her performance of “The Magic Blade”. A girl called Rhiannon was the stories protagonist, alongside her was best friend Barry and a charming man, Graham as the outlaw. Our heroine discovers a blade in the cellar and realising her family has secrets, journey’s to discover the truth. A Halloween party with her cousin however leaves her with startling questions, and she finds herself the subject of Graham’s plans. Stealing from her father’s books, Eliza embroils her story with a coffee addiction and theft. Interrupted, the children, engrossed, groaned at their parent’s arrival and Emilie’s reminder, her homework needed finishing.

Eliza’s performance of “The Magic Blade”

Emilie tucked Eliza in, the child’s mind excited by her audience reaction, “Ooo’s”, “Ahhh’s” and she is certain as they went home, she had them talking, the plot, and Rhiannon. Squirming beneath the blankets, Eliza wanted to talk more, Emilie perched on the bed brushing the hair from Eliza’s face, shushing her. The dreams that followed, Eliza would ditch her violin for a star on the walk of fame, an actress for the Silver Screen.

Charlotte took ample encouragement from her big sister, proving she would be an excellent thinker, exceeding her siblings at the same age. Emilie suggested Eliza tried teaching, but she danced with Charlotte, actresses taught the world life lessons, tugged the heartstrings, and brought emotions to life, what could be better than that. Rylan’s involvement with Charlotte stretched to sitting her in the high chair, giving her food and leaving her to eat whilst he got back to work. The youngest cried, being alone, she hated it, soggy cereal squeezed in hands, missed her mouth, decorate her dress and floor, waiting for her fathers return, and hoping he remembered she was there without Eliza to remind him.

Ziva: French Toast Romance

Ziva moved, sofa, kitchen porch, unable to settle her nerves, the paper sticking to her sweaty fingers, shaking as she dialled the number. A cheerful voice greeted her, followed by a surprised and nervous giggle, as Ziva explained tripped her words, rushing to explain who she was. Vicky’s voice gave Ziva goosebumps, her confidence came through, sharing her love for art, her work at the museum, Vicky had a passion for anything creative, including cooking. Settled, Ziva joked, her interest in food stretched to eating, her cats complained, they returned to roasted chicken mixed with kibble as her gourmet efforts were rejected.

Navigating a phone call with someone unknown was nerve-wracking, but Vicky offered instruction, at least to break the ice and find a way to end the call without making things awkward. How could life be boring if taking instruction for French Toast came from such a beautiful voice? She whisked eggs, milk, cream, and vanilla, adding a dash of cinnamon, Vicky, performed the same, humming a tune as they beat ingredients. Day-old white bread seemed lame, Vicky had Brioche which sounded exciting and delicious, and her description of how she cut thick, doorstep slices, sounded more provocative than intended. As the bread soaked, Vicky explains her move, Del Sol Valley was a beautiful place to live, but like Ziva, she felt the pull of the sea. The fresh sea air had healing powers, a freeing effect, both enjoyed standing at the edge, oceans vast, deserted surfaces, hidden treasures, untold stories, and life, making them both feel small. Pans heated, Vicky timed the turns, suggesting fresh berries to serve, Ziva’s icing sugar, a snow shower rather than the dusting suggested, and a dollop of ice cream replaced the berries, a secret she kept from Vicky.

Buzzing from her phone call, stuffed full of French Toast, Ziva prepared for a party, this time celebrating Patrick. She had felt uneasy offering to bake the birthday cake, but she felt sorry for Emilie and all the preparations done alone. Inspired she whipped up a chocolate cake, the sneaky stray cat still sat on her worktop crying for scraps. He had licked the leftover breakfast mix, certain it would make him ill, Ziva had tried to take the bowl away, but he had hissed despite her offer of cream which she had reserved for her fur babies.

Patrick ran screaming through the house, sticky-fingered, Charlotte wobbling in pursuit. Scooping up her niece, Ziva cringed, a nappy change would be in order, the toddler squirmed, displeased, a high-pitched scream at the idea she needed a bath and might miss the cake. Emilie pointed the way, relieved Ziva was on hand, outside Eliza had a few friends and the whole day had given her a headache. Charlotte pouted, her bottom lip prominent, changing as Ziva offered to add bubbles, they worked with Eliza, and apparently, they were the youngest sibling’s favourite. Ziva’s dress soaked as Charlotte splashed wildly, making her difficult to wash, the call for candles and cake grabbing her attention, bringing relief to Ziva, this type of childcare she was glad remained temporary.

Ziva: Something New on the Horizon

Fiona had been missing for four days, she had been exploring the beach, trapped by the tide, she took refuge in an abandoned fishing boat. Another dog walker rescued Fiona, hearing her barking, tempting her to him with dog treats. The man, Arthur, uninterested in the reward, suggested she put it towards the Animal Sanctuary. Despite Fiona’s dirty appearance, Ziva hugged, allowing her pup, wagging her tail, to lick her face. A warm bath and a hearty bowl of food made Fiona feel welcomed back, additional hugs and kisses followed a sofa nap, the perfect end to a harrowing few days.

If Fiona hoped her ordeal would get her a rest bite from her training, she would discover her mistake in the midday sun. Armed with treats, Ziva wanted to work on new commands including sit and heel, since speak she had been happy to learn, a harmoniser for Patches sweet singing. Dachshunds, Ziva believed, were intelligent, watching Fiona manically chase her tail, she wondered if hers was defective. Ziva remained determined, firm, consistent, with her training but she mused as Fiona wiggled her bum, dropped low on her front paws, copying Patches, the pair pounced and played. The training session for today at least was a complete loss.

Playing the role of Aunt seemed to have increased her funds, the reduction in parties due to family brought furnishings into her home. Two sofas had help fill her spacious lounge, she saved money cancelling her gym membership, buying a treadmill and punching bag was a productive use of her excess fund. Her morning routine had a shakeup, an hour on the treadmill beat the cold morning runs, and Fiona agreed, flopping, belly up pedalling the air, happy to have a lazy morning every day.

Ziva needed another hobby, she researched treats for pets, discovering an opportunity to create them via a medicine crafting table, she brought a discount version from the vets as they upgraded. Her first efforts, noses turned up, Fiona excited, chewed the treat, spat it out, and stared at Ziva, her patience for a tasty treat, accompanied by a wagging tail. She signed, Fiona appreciated her efforts, while the cats glared, as she tucked into dinner, waiting for tidbits, licking lips and loud purrs.

Another issue, all-night raves, Ziva found she could no longer keep abreast, treads changed fast, with new DJ trying to make a name for themselves. The music made her uninspired, swaying half-hearted to the beat. When Arian called she was ready to decline his invitation, quiet nights in were her new normal, but he enticed her with dinner. He sat sheepish, avoiding eye contact, Arian knew she would force him to tell her the real reason for this meeting and he was hoping to enjoy the meal first. Pushing his dessert aside he leant forward, watching Ziva polish every last morsel, he grinned, wondering why she was single. Choice, Ziva chose her life and loved it, Arian hand a piece of paper, hoping her life had room for additional happiness, as he wanted to help her find it. Vicky Cavanagh was leaving her job at the museum in Del Sol Valley, her siblings lived close by in Brindleton Bay. She and her girlfriend had split a few years ago, the ex moved but wanted her share of the property. Simon, her brother mentioned he wanted to arrange for her to meet someone new, Arian thought of Ziva.

Eliza: Play it Loud

Big blue tearful eyes, pouting pink lips and unlike her siblings a mop of soft blonde hair, Charlotte wrapped her parents in her tiny hands. Every whim Charlotte demanded met, or the consequences for her parents were a headache, tantrums at all hours. When peaceful, Charlotte seemed inquisitive, exploring her surroundings, when she thinks no one is watching, but a misstep or sudden noise triggered her attention-seeking behaviour.

Charlotte’s tears were intense, Emilie busied with the younger two siblings leaving Eliza to fend for herself. Spending time with Patrick had been fun, when he was younger, his growing independence brought with it an argumentive streak, meaning he rejected Eliza’s assistance with activities. Rylan buried his head in work, ignoring chaos, leaving Emilie with her hands full and Eliza tidying thrown clothes and books, and cleaning the mess Patrick made with her paints. Her head pounding, Eliza headed to the park, catching up with friends, the escape required ice cream and chess.

Eliza wanted to create her a club, friends who enjoyed creative play, homework and needed to escape the craziness of younger siblings. They would be the Social Butterflies, an unoriginal title for an imaginative group, but it worked. A few school friends, Niko, Clementine and Ashley were eager members, and the park, with its outdoor pool and Pirate ship, was their perfect space to unwind.

Emilie needed to relax, being a mother meant everything, the time with her children would be irreplaceable as they grew. Some days she needs to let her hair down and be “Emilie”, a few hours being herself, instead of wife and mother. Ziva held an open invitation, although part of their night was listening to Emilie complain, Rylan continued to focus on work, maintaining his B-list Celebrity status, as for help with the children, he enjoyed the fun parts, playing with them, but discipline, all their other needs, Emilie met these. Knocking back a shot, Ziva yanked Emilie to the dancefloor, the live vibrant music overloaded their sense, and she released pent-up tension into the rhythm.

Nightclub loud seemed the order of the day, Eliza suffered most from the lack of attention. At school, she bored with her lessons, feeling unchallenged by the education, at home, Eliza needed stimulus. Her social group came over regularly, they swam, and enjoyed the outdoor space, when she was alone, Eliza turned up the stereo, air guitar in hand. From her perspective, the music drowns the sound of Charlotte’s intense crying, her parents unimpressed. Eliza screwed her nose up at her baby sister, their life revolved in diaper changes since she refused the potty, bottles and midnight needs, being the eldest she felt alone.

Patrick adored Eliza, he looked to her for everything, except when she tried to help, he slapped her hand, telling her “No! Naughty!”, determined he would be good without. Eliza pretends to cry, turning her back peering over her shoulder to check his progress, ignoring him when he checked to see if she was hurt or playing. She was proud of him, excited for his first day at school, promising to hold his hand on the way.

Ziva: Missing

Taking a break from assisting with Rylan and Emilie’s growing brood, Ziva accepts an invitation from Damiren, a man she met at an Alien night. He and his wife, Jennix chose Willow Creek, a vacation taking advantage of the lush green parks and bright sunshine missing from their home plant of Sixam. Damiren had developed a love for simple human food, barbecuing baked potatoes. Ziva listened, deep fascination, Damiren’s job, situated amongst the stars, saw him developing relations and assisting in negotiations and tracking down interstellar smugglers. Space Rangers, the galactic police, sounded like a plot featured in her brother’s novels. Her eyes widened, aside from her lack of fitness, the technical, logistical skills required to support space missions and exploration sound like the challenge she wanted to get her teeth into. Being a Tech Guru had lost the shine and excitement she felt in her twenties, the problem she was mid-forties, and Ziva wondered if a career change would be possible.

Inspired, Ziva committed herself to this fitness kick by joining a gym, she eyed the spacious room, weights and treadmills, sat dauntingly awaiting their next victim. The open space, the sand routes she took near her home were unjudging of her curvy figure, here she worried, that shape would receive glares, disgusted as it jiggled and wobbled or find herself surrounded with grunting muscles intent on making her feel inadequate. She veered, resistance training unnerved her, a temporary decision, Ziva wanted to brave them, but that bravery failed her today. Despite her knowledge of computers, the array of buttons on the treadmill had her in a panic. Ziva glanced, people, each in their zone, self-contained bubbles, on their own, with a friend, taking a deep breath Ziva pressed start.

Fiona’s adventurous spirit came with a nasty side effect, she followed her nose into mischief, tasting rubbish they found along the coast. She made Ziva panic when the chocolate Eliza gave her had a bite missing, it was Asher, who vomited on the sofa. Nevertheless, Ziva kept a close eye on her companion, and a trip to the vet was a must. The pup wagged excited, the vet practice situated opposite the dog park, Fiona loved hiding in the tunnels or sitting on the ramp. She pulled the leash, the clinical smell frightened her, dogs and cats in abundance had stepped through those doors. Stiffening Ziva carried Fiona, placed her on the table, Vet Michael had the vaccinations prepared, he distracted Fiona with treats, one for each injection, praising her. A run through the tunnels made Fiona forget her ordeal, and extra treats stopped her sniffing for items unsuitable for her.

At home Ziva kept watch, sweeping the porch ready for a new coat of paint. Patches had her usual spot, warming under sunbeams, Asher found a pinecone that needed attacking and Fiona had sulked, her head down, tail limp and she sniffed the food, uninterested. Ziva believed the vet experience upset Fiona, jabbed with a needle had been stressful, although she seemed fine after running through the park. The trouble is Fiona was… missing!

Ziva shouted, running with blind panic to the beach, their usual haunts, Fiona had vanished. Knocking on doors proved fruitless, she posted on local forums, Jerome and Supriya assisted the search and returned without news. She perched on her bed, deep sadness, one eye on her phone praying for news. Patches curled next to her, soft purrs offered some comfort. The morning brought silences, both cats felt the absence and kept to themselves, Ziva took a vacation day, Fiona was in Brindleton Bay somewhere.

Ziva: Happy Cats and Dog

Ziva observed her fur babies, Asher, the most playful spent his day racing through the house. He had an abundance of energy, greater than the other two combined, happiest when jumping, pouncing, and attacking his squeaky catnip toy. Patches remained aloof, she asserted her importance at every opportunity making it clear, the bed when Ziva slept was her domain. While she enjoyed chasing the noisy seagulls, Patches was lazy, stretching in sunbeams, moving when they ceased to warm her plump belly. The cats hissed at each other, a half-hearted game of pattycake had Patches yawning. Fiona was the one aspect of the home that brought everything together, both cats loved her, Asher had a playmate and Patches thought the dog was a good pet.

The gentle routes, green paths leading to the rock pools, were ideal for jogging with short legs, and Ziva, keen to get back to her keep-fit regime enjoyed the company. Fiona trotted with enthusiasm, her excitement hyped by Ziva’s voice and stories of fish. Fiona’s reward, paddling, at low tide she could enjoy biting at the water, failing to catch fish, her nose snorting water as she hunted for small crabs. Ziva carried the exhausted pup home, cradled like a baby, her top wet through.

The Ancient Ruin, Windenberg, simmered in the sun, perfect for a picnic with her brother and nephew, however, she understood this was free childcare. Rylan and Patrick sat, a fallen ruin their perch, Patrick ran, arms wide, cuddles a requirement throughout. He looked for Fiona who remained home, basking in the sun, laid on her back, tongue hanging. Disappointed he babbled incoherently, Ziva noted her exhausted brother, smirking how he would be changing diapers for the third time. Emilie found herself restless, unable to sleep, Rylan, therefore, had to suffer. Distracted, Rylan managed hums and huh, sounds, Ziva knew if she told him an asteroid would obliterate them, he would still be checking his phone, waiting for the labour alert.

Ziva wrestled Patrick, tossing him in the air and spinning, he giggled, demanding they go faster. He was getting big and with this energetic activity Ziva felt her joints creak, she needed to distract him. After a short stroll, she found a hollowed log, Patrick squatted peering, suppressing his glee at the heart frog croaking, Ziva blocked an end, reached in and handed the slimy creature to her nephew. Gentle he stroked the back, screwing his nose, uncertain of its icky exterior, Rylan gave a firm “No” and Patrick pouted watching the would-be pet hop to another hiding place. Rylan held his head, aching, his phone battery died, Ziva handed the sleepy Patrick to him, hoping this exhausted boy lessened the worry.

Ziva stepped through the door, shaking, the rain decided to hammer her walk back from the train station. Her phone buzzed, ringing off and calling back, an excited Eliza screamed, “The Baby’s Coming!”. It seemed, Emilie went into labour during dinner, and their new baby, eager to start its life chose the house as her birthing location. A beautiful daughter by the name of Charlotte had joined their family. Rylan caught Ziva up on the details, but it was clear mum, and her determined baby were healthy and sleepy.

Rylan: Settling into Family Life…?

Emilie felt redundant, Eliza took up responsibility for teaching her brother new things. She came home excited to tell him all she learned, giving guidance when building block towers and reading to him to help with his language skills. Patrick watched her leave for school, arm stretched high, waving frantically, and when she was due home he waited by the same window, nose pressed against the glass. The few hours Patrick was alone with Emilie, he had the attention span of a fruitfly, eager, excited and engrossed until another toy caught his eye or he was hungry. Unlike Eliza, Patrick ate anything, or at least tried, Emilie gave up her clean house, a quick dust or hoover was sufficient. His mouth chewed books, cushions, cables, the latter panicked Emilie since he had sharp teeth and she worried he would electrocute himself. Rylan’s answer was to muzzled him, a comment which made her and Ziva concerned and pray he meant it in jest.

Hectic family life suited Emilie, tired happiness filled the end of each day, she tolerated the tantrums, cleaned the mess, a husband plus two was enough to complete her world. She had been waking with nausea, stomach cramps and her nights were restless, these were all signs she ignored, blaming the chaos that filled her day, but she needed to take the inevitable trip to the doctors. They had been taking precautions, agreeing that two children were the perfect number, and with them being a boy and girl, why would they need another. There it was, the words tumbled happy from her doctor, congratulation on becoming a mum for the third time. Emilie sat stunned, hand resting on the bump, figuring the dates, the doctor suggested an immediate scan, which suggested she was ten weeks.

Reeling from the initial shock, Rylan nodded, he reassured Emilie, she was a great mother and they could manage. He knew Eliza would step in to help with the baby, as she had with Patrick and he was certain promotion was due. Emilie frowned, project managing the building of another bedroom on top of pregnancy it seemed a big ask. Rylan shrugged, she was amazing and he knew she would do it. The problem in Emilie’s mind nagged her, but she stayed silent, his money lust was a real issue, if he were a hands-on dad, she would have no need to worry for baby number three.

Eliza: Artistic Growth

Rylan looked in on Eliza, an appreciation for art and music had skipped a generation, he reviewed the chaos that was her creative space. Crumpled paper, broken crayons, stolen macaroni, Eliza would tidy up when her perfected masterpiece, covered in glitter got blue tacked to the wall. Her father seemed relieved the scribbles confined, her bedroom the ideal place for a budding artist. Eliza knew he kept a piece of her discarded work, Rylan hid it in his bedside table, thinking he had a secret from his daughter, that in truth he loved her work.

She found music came natural, the initial screeching violin of strings, replaced with melodic nursery rhymes. Eliza’s hands were small, unable to grip the guitar neck, the most she could manage was strumming it as it sat on its stand. Rylan could see much of his mother, Aria, in the artistic prodigy that was his daughter, Eliza imagined her future, a Concertmaster in the Del Sol Orchestra, leading the first violins and taking solos or a pop artist, the world as her canvas, she would be as renowned as Andy Warhol. Emilie admired her ambitions, her grades reflected this, a star pupil, she worried Eliza would feel unchallenged by the education received.

Eliza enjoyed the days, keeping her mind busy, the night, however, they were a different story. In her toddler years, she climbed into bed with her parents, crying and shaking from bad dreams, growing older, the quivering lip, unappreciated. When dark, she heard noises, gurgling, growling, rustling, visions of tentacle slivered, reaching for her, Eliza screamed, Emilie responded, rushing to her, flicking the light switch. Nothing, Eliza shook convinced she had seen something, Rylan spoke angrily, her panic woke Patrick. Emilie shoed Rylan, spraying the bed, clearing pencils, paper, socks and shoes from beneath it. The magic water, Eliza believed the promise that the fine mist repelled the creature and she was safe.

Rylan ate, his gaze drifted, Eliza sat nose to book, frantic scribbling, he mused her interest in numbers, the focus much like his twin. He teased, she would need glasses, if she got much closer. Pausing, Eliza reached for another book, she wanted his help, her original plan to interview her mother put on hold to massage her father’s ego. Eliza wanted to discover what life had been like when he was young, how life differed for him with her grandparents Aria and Jose. Shifting uneasily, Rylan settled into answering questions, he had missed opportunities, awards favoured his sister when it came to academic achievement. Tears filled his eyes when speaking of Jose, losing his father made him angry, shovelling food into his mouth, Rylan made it clear Eliza should avoid such enquiries. As a young boy he dreamt of becoming a space pirate but excited by other possibilities, he wanted wealth, so his family were comfortable and he could provide, unlike the struggle his parents faced. Her final question, came down to what he wanted to ask his parents? Silence, Rylan looked deep into the empty glass, questions? Yes, so many stories, experiences and advice, all lost as he failed to ask. Shaking his head, Eliza had enough information to write her assignment, she frowned, worried she had upset him, she watched as he walked to the kitchen. The chocolate cake was comfort and pleasure, he gave her a piece, and slumped on the sofa, Patrick climbed, greedy eyes, but Rylan ignored him, lost in his memories.

Ziva: What Could Have Been…?

Arian moved back to Newcrest his life had been hectic, married to Lavina, starting a family, their new baby due in ten weeks and work, so it came as a pleasant surprise when he called Ziva. A rave on the bluffs, featuring two new DJs, International Ian and Triangular Top, the secrecy had turned into an internet hype, and despite the threat of police raiding the party, they refused to cancel. They stepped back from the noise, the music a series of boring repetitive beats, zero melody and limited variation.

Standing close, Ziva felt those old feelings stirring, Arian vanished from her life all those years ago, the distance, her changing desires, she found herself wondering what if? She kept the conversation cool, sipping her drink slowly, hoping to avoid certain topics, but that was difficult, Arian was curious why she remained unmarried. Rylan asked the same question, when would she be settling down, when would she bring cousins into the world for his children to play with? In truth, Ziva had remained uncommitted to the notion she preferred the idea of a female companion, a woman to share her life. He looked stunned for a moment, face softened, whoever this woman was, they would be lucky, and Ziva will meet her when they were both ready.

Old flames and friends seemed eager to share their lives with Ziva, Laura had disappeared from her life after Ziva rejected her romantic intentions. The former best friends stood awkwardly, Laura had sounded energetic, excited to reconnect, yet here they were standing together, Laura wondered if this was all weird. After leaving the Humour and Hijinks festival Laura had wandered the city streets, she rested in a cafe overlooking the water, that’s when Amira appeared in her life. Things had progressed, a few coffee dates, dinner, Laura found herself lost in romance, all that Amira offered her, they said “I do” in a Chapel in Willow Creek. Ziva heard giggling, two toddlers appeared, Giovanni and Roberto, upstairs they had an adopted the baby brother Galdino. She could tell, despite the nerves her former best friend was happy, this meeting was her way of saying “Thank you”.

Amira invited her inside, amused that Laura had shared everything on the doorstep. She had a pleasant manner, long grey hair, older than expected, Amira lived an active life, swimming in open water had been a lifelong passion. Ziva laughed, her fitness regime, binned, it amounted to long walks with Fiona, the pup’s legs were short and across the sand unsuited to jogging.

It got her thinking, the lives she could have lived, as Arian’s wife, it would have been a beautiful wedding, a sweet kiss, and first dance, but since they met, she discovered a different part of herself, being his for the rest of their lives would be a denial of that. There could have been playing the family role with Laura and the children she spoiled, except Ziva consider Laura a friend, that’s all. Both homes were overflowing with love and happiness, looking at her own, the feeling here was strong. Ziva settled, kicking shoes off, Patches took her usual place on her lap, Fiona stretched on the other side and Asher pounced on the bird toy. Whatever choices had brought friends and her to this place, they would fill it with happiness and in Ziva’s case fur babies.

Ziva: Fiona… and Sleep.

Fiona spent her initial stay protected, Jerome erected a wood divider, holes big enough for a nose to sniff at the curious cat. Toilet training could be problematic, Ziva had to wait, the cats occupied with food, hunting, or sleeping upstairs. The regular swapping of bedding stimulated strong opinions, Asher growled at the new scent, Patches scrambled at the wood separating her from the potential playmate. Scratches grew insistent, both puppy and cat eager to rush through the introduction process and meet on the other side. Ziva took her time, seeing Asher tolerated by Patches, this new member needed to feel welcome. Neither cat seemed bothered when the boards came down, Fiona took a few tentative steps into the cat’s territory, she had enjoyed this freedom by herself but stared at by two fluffy creatures twice her size unnerved her.

Puppy paws were clumsy, staking a claimed on a bed or food bowl came with a territorial Asher, Fiona bounced, her playful nature met by a swiping paw. They had some common interests, basking in the sun, the cat’s favourite pastime, Fiona copied them, rolling on her back, stomach to the sky, paws padding the air or curled tight, her nose to tail, Ziva knew when she was pretending, the tail had a mind of its own, wagging when Ziva moved nearby.

Ziva wanted to get back to another love, checking the DJs at the Von Haunts Estate, she laughed when she saw the headline act, DJ Squid Fishlips, the mind boggled at how they created these names if nothing else it was memorable. The problem, age, Ziva found she tired more easily, her feet swelled in heels and calves ached, dancing called to her as she reconciled the name with the pounding heavy beats and sweet hypnotic melody. Mornings used to beckon, the rising sun had been a sight to behold, walking through the maze with her friends, alcohol buzzing in their system. She crumpled, sinking into satin sheets, firm mattress and quilt hugging her, relieved they had a room available, the honeymoon suite, irony lost in her sleepy state.

Singles nights were a thing, Ziva found the attendees were desperate, chatting, flirting, failing to connect, but trying anyway. Happy in life and work, Ziva wanted to put herself on the market, however, finding that special someone never a priority. The Bowling Alley in Newcrest, Rylan suggested she attended the Alien night, he believed it would be a collection of sci-fi geeks in costumes. Instead, Ziva had her mind opened, pale green skin, bald head, carbon fibre outfits, with what looked like LED lights or luminescent fluid curving the suits grey panels. Her ears struggled to adjust, their voices resonated, a metallic edge, and she realised, gawping at them, they were real, aliens inhabited their planet.

Curiosity took over, Ziva approached, eager to communicate with these humanoid beings, hypnotised by their eyes. At a distance they were black, looking closer, stars swirled, green, purple, or white galaxies. She learned Sixam their home, was dark, their eyes evolved to cope, the variants allowed for light emitted by luminescent plants and the stars above. Their suits designed to help purebred aliens maintain their biological systems when visiting a foreign planet. Enjoying the bowling came with rumours circulating, these alien nights were them scouting for hosts, a human who can carry an offspring. Men were the main targets of these abductions, easier to hide the pregnancy, belief that it was extra weight gain. Ziva shrugged at the notion, when combined with the other rumours, mind-melding, memory-erasing, and transmutation, it all seemed extreme. On the other hand, these concepts might be worth noting, Rylan was looking for material, maybe she might get credit for being a muse.