::1.4:: Newlife (and the Ones Who Walk Away)

It isn't that Clarissa is having a mental breakdown--because she isn't.

She's always liked the rain, she tells herself, enough to ruin a perfectly good pair of stockings.

Sure, she hasn't played in the rain since who-knows-when (certainly not her, because her memories have been stolen from her by who-knows-who for who-knows-what) but when things are just a little too overwhelming, the rain stays simple.

And if she's being honest, the overwhelming-ness of her entire life ever since she found herself in Sunset Valley has just about reached its peak.

She doesn't regret her relationship with Hansol.  She cares about him a great deal, and could have seen herself keeping him around for the rest of her life.

But that was before she noticed the changes.  And took the test.  Multiple times.

She'd broken the news, then felt immediately claustrophobic when his response was a massive hug.  The last thing she wanted was to make the whole ordeal more dramatic than necessary, but the wagon was too stuffy, his arms too warm.  Why was there never any space in this damn town?

"What's wrong?"  His feet sloshed when he stepped out after her, voice laced with concern.  "I'm not upset that you're pregnant."

"I know."  She'd sighed.  "That's the problem."

Well!  In any case.  Not much that can be done about it now.

It's an unfortunate wake-up call, but one she needed.  Her research has been falling to the wayside in favor of her... personal affairs.

She's always wanted children, or at least she thinks she has, but bringing another sim into a world as suffocating as this?  Unacceptable.

A place like this, where no one truly thinks, truly feels, truly sees one another.  How can she bear to raise a little one to potentially succumb to the same numbness she sees around her?

She's taken too long, with no results.

Perhaps it's time to stop hiding behind vague theories that mean nothing.

Perhaps it's time to stop trying to figure out the exact reason.

Perhaps it's time to search for a solution.

In the meantime, Hansol, in his own preparation for the incoming newborn, finally sells the old empty house he couldn't get into (on account of the snake-key incident) and uses the funds to purchase a small plot of land on the edge of town, safely tucked away from the anxieties of other sims, and constructs a small place for the family to live.

A house.  He buys a house.

Most of the decor is themed after, or directly salvaged from, the wagon, to make him (and, he assumes, Clarissa) feel at home.

 The results are...

...bright.

Money is still tight, so a crib for the baby is put in a small alcove between the bathroom and the main part of the house.

And they can only afford one counterspace, which is well-used.

They may still be restricted to ice cream diets, but at least they have a proper kitchen to stand in while they eat.

In the empty earth next to the house, Clarissa plants the mysterious glitched seed Hansol found, alongside a control plant and a few other foraged goods listed in the book she's been reading at the elixir shop.  Mountains guard their backyard, stoic and strong, ringed by trees and shrubs, crowned by the mist that rolls in from places beyond the perimeter; beyond Clarissa's reach.

In small moments such as these, she feels comfortable; almost like she could be content here, if she really tried.

But she doesn't.  She stays determined.

And so the research continues.

Hansol still accompanies her in her work, when he has the time.  As her stomach grows, though, it seems he does this mostly to try and convince her to stop.

"Would you take a break already?"  He sounds disgruntled; at this point, Clarissa knows better than to take the grumbling at face value.  "You look exhausted."

He tries to fit his hand in hers.  She pauses, then breaks away; keeps walking.

"I can't.  I think I might finally have a lead.  I just... need more time."

Unfortunately, rather than being excited by the prospect of real results from all the hard work they'd put in, Hansol only grows more concerned.

"I feel fine, Hansol."  Then, when he doesn't look convinced; "Listen, why don't you check for yourself?   Do what you do best, read me."

He looks surprised.  Aside from the basic information he's able to glean from a glance at her plumbob, Clarissa has never let him look into her more detailed 'code.'  "But what about your Before?" he asks cautiously.

Clarissa bites her lip.  "Avoid it if you can, please.  But, if you do see anything... just do me a favor and don't tell me."

And so the ritual begins.

"Is this part really necessary?"

"Physical contact does make it easier, you know."

"Yes, but..." she sighs into his palm.  "Never mind."

After a moment, Hansol draws his hand away, resting it instead on her belly as his expression turns reverent.  "It's twins," he murmurs.  "Two little twin girls."

"Great," Clarissa responds, tone distant.

Autumn comes to town; the first seasonal change for Sunset Valley.

Neither Hansol nor Clarissa attend the festivities, both avoidant of other sims in town for more or less the same reason.  Instead, Hansol works at the wagon, and Clarissa continues her search.

She tracks down the Weather Stone.  A strange construction that feels almost out of place in the Sunset Valley aesthetic, this monument of no origin was the centerpiece in many tales of supernatural happenings; tales which, when Clarissa was reading about them from dusty books in the elixir shop, toed the line between fiction and reality.

Fairies, witches, vampires, werewolves... Sunset Valley has nothing like this, at least as far as Clarissa can tell, yet here the Weather Stone stands.

And that's all it seems to do; stand.

Another dead end.

Her sense of urgency grows as her stomach does.  It feels like time is running out, somehow.

Though the cold trail of the Weather Stone is disappointing, she still has one more chance.  If she can just study the alchemy tomes a bit more...

"What is this for again?" Hansol's voice is muffled by the sheer amount of garbage tumbling around him, threatening to bury him if he lingers too long.

"Ingredients," Clarissa reminds him.

Hansol flails his legs to keep balance.  "Uh, we're poor, but we're not that poor."

"Not for eating.  It's for my project."

Before Hansol can clarify what his girlfriend's mysterious "project" is, exactly, she yelps excitedly and kneels down.  Somehow, without mussing her new stockings, she cages between her fingers a wriggling cockroach.  Then it freezes in her palm, sizzling with a momentary glitch.

"Perfect."

"Don't mind me, just drowning in trash," Hansol grunts.

Her plan is simple: follow one of the more potent elixir recipes, one that she's certain will have a lasting effect.  The only alteration, of course, will be the... state of the ingredients.

"Making an elixir with a random assortment of glitched ingredients won't work; I've already tried.  The recipe has to be something established by this world, and the glitched items need to match.  My theory is that, if we drink it, it'll give us not just the effects of the elixir, but will temporarily glitch us, as well."

"You aren't taste-testing these, are you?" Hansol's brow furrows.  "With the twins, you shouldn't..."

"I'm not, Hansol," Clarissa sighs.  "I don't even know if this will work.  But if it does, if our 'code' you talk about becomes temporarily incompatible with the inner-workings of this place... we might be able to slip past the perimeter."

"And what if it isn't temporary?  What if glitches can't be temporary?  Clarissa, I don't think--"

"I'll wait until after the twins are born to try anything."  She reaches over to grab his hand, to meet his gaze intently.  "I will get us out of here, Hansol.  That's a promise."

As her work draws to a close, all she can feel is a giddy energy; butterflies in her tummy, and she knows it isn't just the third trimester.

She's going to be free!

The final ingredient is collected only a few days before Baby Time.

Hansol freaks.

Somewhere amidst the chaos, a taxi is called, and the twins are born at the hospital.

While Hansol would be happy to let Clarissa choose names for both girls, Clarissa reasons that there's certainly enough babies to go around, and it's only fair he gets a say.

So, the firstborn daughter is named by Hansol.  He calls her Newlife--a name that is, in his mind, simultaneously beautiful, symbolic, and practical.

The younger daughter is named Omelas.

She hadn't truly loved her daughters until she held them in her arms, Clarissa thinks.  Now, it's physically painful to let go.  Still, it's hard to feel any joy, now that there's no more reason to wait.

Part of her already knows the decision Hansol will force her to make; and the decision she will force him to make in turn.

"Do they have them?" she asks him quietly.  "The plumbobs."

Hansol's eyes haven't left the girls since they were born, but he nods in her direction.  "Both of them."

Clarissa is silent for a moment.  Then; "There's something I need to go do.  I'll be right back."

"Right now?" Hansol looks at her for the first time since the birth.  "But you just--"

"I know.  I won't be long."

"Can't it wait--"

"No.  I need to do this now."

As she assured him, it doesn't take long to complete what she has been working toward since the day they met.

There's just enough for two.

She was worried success would feel hollow, but it doesn't.

It's exactly what she wants.

"We should leave now," she tells him, back at the house, a few hours later.  "I finished the elixir, and I think... I think it'll work.  It's dark, it's late; this is the perfect time."

He looks exhausted, concerned, a bit confused.  "What we should do is rest.  The girls need to rest.  It's been a long night for all of us..."

"No," Clarissa's tone is clipped, a sharp contrast to how soft and delicate the house feels now that the twins are home; "I won't have my daughters staying in this place one second longer than necessary."

Hansol tenses.  "Don't tell me you want to feed this glitched concoction to the girls."

"I--"

"Our babies, Clarissa."

She falters. 

Then she steels herself.

"The only reason we met in the first place is because we both knew this town was wrong.  You know what this place does to me, I can't--" she chokes.  "This is no place to raise children.  This is no place to be happy."

"Why not?" Hansol snaps back.  "Everyone else is.  I think I could be.  And even if I wanted to leave..." his expression turns injured.  "How could you even suggest risking our children like that?"

"They're so small, it would only take a few drops..."  She's interrupted by the thin, sleepy wail breaking from one of the cribs behind her.  Her eyes turn bleary and she casts her gaze away.  Her brow knots with momentary guilt, and her shoulders are tight with indecision.

He takes her hands.  "Stay," he begs.  "We'll build our own happiness."

After a heavy beat filled only by the fitful cries of Omelas, she draws him into a tearful kiss.  "I don't think that's possible."

She takes out the first vial.

It doesn't feel great; her body twists and jerks in unnatural ways, and she grits her teeth against a brief feelings of fire rushing her entire body.  It's different from the times she'd tried normal elixirs.

Hansol watches her in frozen shock.

Once the discomfort subsides, she takes out the second vial.  In the room beyond, Newlife has added her tiny voice to the growing din.

"Can you see anything different?" she asks Hansol quietly, barely audible beneath the crying behind her.

Hansol gives a delayed glance above her.  "It worked," he answers.

Clarissa stares down at the second vial for a moment too long; she wants to look over her shoulder, but knows that if she does all her work will mean nothing.

She takes Hansol's hand and forces it to curl around the vial.  "In case you change your mind," she says quickly, like the words need to leave her as soon as possible.

Her hand leaves his around the vial.  And then she's gone.

☼

::
The drama, the intrigue!  All in a magical world where women can run around town doing alchemy mere minutes after childbirth.  Oh, Sims.

Clarissa having twins was a complete surprise; as far as I know, I didn't let her do anything that would have increased her chances.  I had a second partner lined up for Hansol and everything (the roommate I originally moved Clarissa into the town with), but I can't say I'm upset.  Not only does it make more sense thematically, but Clarissa's genes were far better.  Although the roommate did have blue hair.

I did move Clarissa into the household for a short time, mostly for the sake of screenshots, but within hours of the kids being born, she downed the potion and I Totally Annihilated her from the game.  So I don't think that breaks any single parent rules?

Anyway, this will probably be the last update on this blog for a while.  Like I mentioned on MTS, I decided to revisit Hansol and his lonely little life after being inspired by my trip to Korea in late August. 

One of the friends I saw is actually named Hansol--I wouldn't say sim-Hansol is named after her, but she is the reason I'm aware the name Hansol exists.  (I had to figure out myself that it was gender neutral, though.)

Omelas comes from the short story by Ursula K. Le Guin, The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas. Newlife is the name of a girl I used to work with, and I loved it so much I knew I had to use it somewhere. 

And with that, my personal "For the Love of God, Give Your Sims A Normal Name" challenge is failed yet again.

These screenshots have been sitting unused for a while; I haven't actually been back in this save since I started the Wilder-Moon blog.

Thanks for checking back in, even though it's been ages since this blog updated.  Props if you could remember even a single thread of the plotline without having to reread!