Chapter 0.03
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The sound of the brew bubbling in the cauldron was a familiar and comforting one. It may have been some time since Bella was in here brewing her famous potions, but she was still absolutely in her element down here. The basement was a newer addition to the house, one the kids didn’t know anything about. Bella and Mortimer both knew how to get into it, but preferred not to tell the kids about it. Neither Cassandra nor Alexander had any idea of their true magical origins, and Bella would much rather keep it that way.
Unfortunately, one didn’t always get what they wanted.
Like with this potion. Bella frowned to herself. The ingredients were correct, and picked fresh this morning from the small herb garden they had growing in the magic room. She felt a slight tickle of magic, and stilled, waiting for Mortimer to materialise. Mostly, the two of them teleportalated in and out of the magic room. It was easier than explaining to the kids there was nothing down that random set of stairs in the hallway.
As Mortimer materialised, Bella tilted her head at him.
“Ah, there you are,” Mortimer said, shuffling over to stand beside Bella. He peeked at the cauldron, and then arched an eyebrow. “You’re missing mandrake,” he said.
Bella cursed under her breath, huffing in annoyance at herself and tossing a bit of mandrake into the pot. Almost immediately, it turned the vibrant pink colour she’d expected it to be. “Thank you,” she said. “I was having a hard time remembering what I was forgetting.”
Mortimer looked bemused, taking his wife’s hand. “You’re still better at this than I am, you know. You just get stressed and forget things from time to time.”
Bella almost pouted for a moment. “I know,” she said. “It’s just that I should be too young to forget things this way.”
“One’s never too young to forget things,” Mortimer said.
“I guess so. Have you worked out what to do with your book? The one with the alien girl?”
Mortimer nodded. “Oh, yes actually, Cassandra helped me figure it out.”
“That’s good then,” Bella replied. “Does this mean you’ll become less busy all the time?” She wasn’t holding her breath. His publisher and editors could get horrendously demanding at times, and she knew that better than most. They always had been, at least as long as she’d known him.
Mortimer sighed. “Unfortunately,” he said, “maybe yes, maybe no.”
“I see.” Bella tried not to sound disappointed.
“But,” he said, “I’ve got time now, you’re not working either, the kids are occupied…”
Bella giggled. “What are you getting at, Mortimer?”
“Would you like to go out on a date with me, fair maiden?” he asked, reaching up and cupping her cheek.
“I’d like that very much,” she answered. “Where are we going?” Bella wrapped her arms around his neck.
Mortimer smiled, cradling her against him. “I was thinking a nice dinner by a crackling fire, a long discussion under the stars, and maybe some good vintage nectar.”
“Oh, I know just the nectar,” Bella said.
“The 1800s vintage meliore,” Mortimer said.
“Absolutely!” Bella agreed. “Sometimes you seem to read my mind, Morty,” she said.
“I certainly try, my love,” he said. “We have been together for nearly twenty years now, you know.”
“Goodness, that’s a long time, isn’t it?” Bella asked. “Ahh, Cassandra’s eighteenth birthday is soon.”
“So it is. A week or so now, no?”
“Yes,” Bella replied. “I was hoping to plan her a birthday party, nothing fancy, just the family getting together, and perhaps a family friend or two.”
“That sounds more her speed,” Mortimer agreed. “Should we get her anything as a present? What kinds of things does a girl her age have an interest in?” Mortimer had honestly never asked. While he and Cassandra talked all the time, they didn’t tend to have conversations about anything besides his writing, and her schoolwork. If he remembered rightly, as well, she was having a tough time making friends. He remembered mention of that once or twice.
As they talked, Mortimer and Bella had begun to slow-dance around the magic room. It’d been a long time since they’d had time for just each other, without being interrupted by something or other. Mortimer was half tempted to tell his upper management to go shove it, because he wanted more time to spend with his family. They were important, the only thing he considered worth anything in this world. He could have all the riches in the world and consider himself poor without them.
“I’m not so sure, either,” Bella admitted. “I do know she’s started trying to write her own songs. Maybe something music-related would be appreciated. Not too extravagant, not something she won’t like.” That seemed to be the best bet to her.
Mortimer nodded. “I know someone that sells jewellery boxes that double as music boxes,” he said. “They play the same song every time they’re played, but perhaps she might appreciate one.”
“Oooh!” Bella exclaimed. “Mortimer, that’s perfect!”
“I’ll talk to that friend of mine,” he said. “Perhaps we should get one that’s purple?”
“Yes,” Bella agreed. “She seems to like purple and black.”
“You know what would look nice, purple and gold.”
“Weren’t those royal colours?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mortimer answered. “They were also formerly the colours of the Goth family, but in the middle ages, they changed it to red and black.”
That was odd. The Bachelor family wasn’t important enough to have family colours, or at least, not that Bella could remember. It was possible some branch or another of the family had colours, or at least a crest, but she couldn’t say offhand which that might’ve been. “Interesting change.”
“I think it had something to do with some odd king or another,” Mortimer replied. “I’d have to -” he stopped, as a metallic creaking sound was heard. Bella’s eyes widened as the creaking suddenly clanked like something metallic had burst. Almost immediately after, Alexander shouted from upstairs, “AHHH! It’s leaking everywhere!”
Bella sighed. Mortimer looked terribly unsurprised, but very put-upon. Randomly, their appliances and plumbing had been breaking almost every day. He wondered… but he never said anything. “Apparently my dear,” he said, kissing Bella’s cheek as he separated from her, “the date will have to wait a bit, as it seems I need to fix a bathtub or something.”
Bella didn’t say anything as he vanished again. She turned back to the cauldron, still softly bubbling the pinkish tone it was meant to be. She wondered too. Wondered if maybe some past events might yet be coming back to haunt them.
* * *
It was becoming pretty routine for Cassandra to wake up and make breakfast before everyone else. Oddly, she was enjoying it. That stretch of time just before the sun came up was peaceful in strange ways, and she liked listening to the birds start singing their good morning songs. Alexander was usually up right after her, and he spent time doing the dishes from the night before, and often, setting the table. Then came Mortimer, and finally Bella, only because she worked late on occasion.
Alexander gave his usual greeting as he came down the stairs and started on the dishes. Cassandra happily greeted him back, and focused on not messing up breakfast. Today it was fruit parfait.
“How do you know all these recipes, Cass?” Alexander asked.
Cassandra shrugged one shoulder. “I find them in different places,” she answered. “This one I found on the internet, but some of the other ones I’ve made I found in cookbooks at the library.”
“They have cookbooks at the library?” Alexander asked. “Why would they have those?”
“Some Sims can’t afford to buy their own,” Cassandra answered, “or to get a computer. The library’s a good resource when you don’t have a computer or even a bookshelf.”
Alexander thought about that for a moment. “There are Sims that can’t afford a bookshelf?”
“There sure are,” Cassandra replied. “We’re really fortunate, but there are a lot of Sims that aren’t. That’s just how the world is.”
“Can’t we do something?” Alexander asked.
“There are programmes that help them,” Cassandra said. “And except for in very exceptional circumstances, they eventually start to manage okay on their own.”
“That’s good then,” he said. The two went quiet for a bit, and then Alexander asked, “how’s making friends going?”
Cassandra laughed a little. It’d figure he’d remember that. Cassandra hadn’t honestly tried yet, but she’d been meaning to. It was very easy to keep doing things you were used to doing. Her daily school routine hadn’t needed to change in… well, perhaps ever, and it leaned toward not having a lot of friends. It might be nice to have study partners that weren’t grating to her nerves, or her kid brother for that matter, but she did have to wonder why it mattered. Soon enough, she wouldn’t be in high school anymore, and it was somewhat rare that high school friends remained lifelong ones.
It’d be nice to have someone besides her family members to talk to, though. Maybe that was motivation enough to at least try making friends of her own. She still didn’t know where to try, but maybe the library was a good start. She spent a good deal of time there when she didn’t feel like going home after school.
“I haven’t been trying yet,” she admitted. There was no sense in lying to him, because he’d figure out the truth eventually anyway, it wasn’t too difficult, and it wasn’t very good for their trust for her to lie. “I keep forgetting. It’s easy to forget things like that when it’s habit not to think about it, and I guess habits are hard to change.”
“Yeah, they sure are,” Alexander agreed. “It’s okay, as long as you try someday. It’s just good to make friends and stuff, people you can talk to that aren’t in the family. There’ll be stuff you don’t want to talk about with us that you might be okay talking about with friends, I think. Right?”
Cassandra nodded. “Usually, yeah.”
“It’s kind of scary, isn’t it?” Alexander asks. “Changing and doing things differently. I think sometimes you’ve gotta take chances, cause if you’re too afraid to do anything, you never get anywhere.”
Now where had he heard something smart like that? Cassandra looked a little bemused. Her kid brother was pretty intelligent for his age. She wondered if he was just like that, or if it was a side-effect of being a Goth. The Goths sure turned out eccentric Sims. She almost felt sorry for any kids she or Alexander had in the future. It was tough being a Goth, and no doubt it’d be even tougher by the time their kids would be born.
Not that Cassandra had any intention of having children, but things happened, often without one’s own input. Life had plans and sometimes you really were just along for the ride.
“I suppose not,” Cassandra replied. “You’re right. It’s a lot easier to say things like that than to change them, though.”
Alexander snorted softly, setting the dishes he’d just washed into the strainer. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I know that’s for sure. But if anyone can do it, I’ll bet it’s you!”
“Thanks kiddo,” Cassandra said, glancing at him. “You’re awfully encouraging sometimes, you know that?”
“I try to be,” Alexander answered. “Some Sims could use to be a bit nicer, and I always figured there was no sense in lecturing other Sims about it if I didn’t do it myself.”
“That’s pretty sound,” Cassandra said, nodding. “Change is difficult, but it becomes a bit easier when you’re willing to change first.”
Alexander nodded. “But nothing’s ever really the same, is it? Stuff’s always changing. You’d think we’d all have an easier time of dealing with it, since it happens all the time.”
“You’d think,” Cassandra answered. “I’m not sure why no one likes things changing, but it probably has something to do with wanting to hang onto things, and nothing truly lasting forever. Even I don’t care for change sometimes. It depends on what it is.”
Alexander looked thoughtful for a moment. “I guess I don’t really like it sometimes either,” he said.
“Most don’t, kiddo,” Cassandra said. “It’s normal. Probably the most normal thing we Goths have ever done huh?”
Alexander laughed at that. The Goths were well-known for their eccentric behaviours and strange outlooks on things. It just kind of ran in the family, but you got used to it after a while. Or maybe it was just that he had.
“Come on,” Cassandra said, handing Alexander a plate. “Breakfast is done.”
* * *
This particular problem was more difficult than Cassandra had been ready for. She peered at it, trying not to give herself too much of a headache. They did cover this material in class, so by all rights, she should remember how to do it. Had she taken notes for this unit? That thought in mind, she rifled through her notebook, trying to find any notes on this part of the unit she might’ve scribbled down. Mostly, she found scribbled sketches of bats and rainbows.
That wasn’t even your run-of-the-mill type of margin doodle.
The door opened and closed. Cassandra could hear the clacking of her mother’s heels on the floor in the entryway. “Welcome home,” she greeted. She was in the living room this time, mostly because it’d gotten notably chilly and she’d thought sitting in front of the fireplace might be nice. She was right.
“Hello, Cassandra,” her mother’s voice greeted back. A moment later, and Bella turned around the corner and wandered into the living room, settling into a chair. “How was school?”
“It was okay,” Cassandra answered. “No pop quizzes this time, thankfully.” She was still trying to live down the last time there was one. Bella was right, though. It wasn’t her fault she was the only one that studied. Whatever made people feel better, she supposed.
“The kids will forget about it soon enough,” Bella said, setting her purse down on the floor beside her chair. “That’s the issue with being sixteen, it feels like you’ll never get past something and then it fades in a week or two, and you wonder why you were ever upset at all.”
Cassandra laughed quietly. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” It had a habit of smacking even her upside the head, and she liked to pretend she was a bit better than that. “Did dad go up last night and talk to you?” Maybe Bella was already asleep by then.
“Yes,” Bella answered. “Why?”
“I told him to, is all.” She wanted to make sure it’d done some good, even if it was only a little good.
“Oh?” Bella looked amused. “You’d think you’d be less concerned about your parents’ love lives. Isn’t that gross?” Most teenagers had a noted aversion to having anything to do with their parents’ love lives, after all, and gods forbid having anything to do with their sex lives. Not that Bella intended to be sharing anything related to that anytime soon.
“I’d rather not live through a divorce, thanks,” Cassandra replied, her tone drawling. She’d much rather her parents stayed together.
“Oh honey,” Bella said, “I love your father very much, even if he is a pain in the behind sometimes. There won’t be a divorce.”
Cassandra smiled. “And we can keep it that way!” she said. Yes, that sounded like a very good idea to her.
“Say, did you ever figure out where to go to make friends?” Certainly the girl had been thinking about it, and Bella was curious if she’d thought anything up. Given some time, Bella likely would have some suggestions for her, but she was hoping Cassandra had a few on her own.
“I was thinking the library,” Cassandra replied.
“That sounds like a good place to start,” Bella said. “You’re always in the library, aren’t you?” Alexander was, too. They both liked to read, and Bella was glad for that. Books were to the brain what food was to the body, after all.
“Not always,” Cassandra grumbled, looking a little upset.
Ah. Bella shook her head. “It’s a good thing, Cassandra.” She smiled, remembering her school years. It wasn’t that long ago she was in high school. “Ah, the smell of old paper when you walk in the door.” If she tried, she could almost smell it. “There’s nothing quite like it, is there?”
“No, there’s not,” Cassandra agreed. “It’s a nice scent. I got used to it fairly quickly.”
“So did I,” Bella said. “Your father smells just slightly of fresh parchment. I used to hate the scent, but then I started to like it for some reason or another, and now I’m glad for it. I figure part of why I started to like it had a lot to do with him anyway. I always figured he’d become a writer. What I wasn’t expecting is how eccentric of a writer he became, but he’s got a strong cult following.” That cult following had been with him since before Cassandra was born.
Cassandra hummed under her breath. “I’d noticed that,” she said. “Doesn’t he want a larger following?” It seemed like a more favourable outcome to have more fans than her father had.
“Not necessarily, it depends,” Bella answered. “Success isn’t exactly cut and dry, though many like to believe it is. It’s not either you win or you lose. Failure is an event along the road to success, and what success looks like is variant. Sure, he could theoretically use a larger following, but in cases like this one, it’s better to have a small following that’ll definitely still be there tomorrow. I would imagine that most creative arts are like that, where it’s better to have a few that love your work, than a bunch that may decide they don’t anymore later.”
Cassandra mulled that over, and then nodded slightly. “That seems pretty sound.” And it did, it was simply that Cassandra had never had occasion to think about it too deeply. Her mother was just full of surprising life advice. She wondered if it was a mother thing, or a Bella Goth thing. She hadn’t spoken to too many other mothers, and honestly wasn’t sure. “So you’ll want to build a solid fan-base first?”
“It’s the same with building a house, no?” Bella asked. “You wouldn’t go straight to building the attic.”
“Right,” Cassandra answered. And then she giggled slightly. “You know mom, you’re a little eccentric too.” At least, Cassandra thought so. She was sure some other people also thought so, but she couldn’t think of who off-hand.
Bella smirked in amusement, standing up. She would probably take a shower, she usually did not long after work. “Well, you aren’t married to Mortimer Goth for almost twenty years and not pick up a little eccentricity.”
