gracie abrams
Misplaced Lens Cap
Interview Vampire Daily
$LAYYYTER
Sade Olutola
NASA
hello vonnie
bliss lane
#extradirty
The Bowery Presents
RMH
if i look back, i am lost
todays bird
EXPECTATIONS
Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies
untitled
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Monterey Bay Aquarium
sheepfilms
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@soulful-simmer
Welcome!
Hello, I’m so glad you’re here! My name is Dayle and this will be the home for my many sims stories and endeavors. Have fun!
|| Currently Playing ||
Balfour Legacy (GBSC): Most Recent || Chronological
Whimsy Legacy Expanded: Most Recent || Chronological
|| Retired ||
Finlay Legacy (Decades Challenge): Chronological || 1860s || 1870s
Jenson Legacy (Random Legacy): Chronological
Garyth laid his wife’s frail body onto the bed, careful of the protruding belly on her thin frame. He knelt there beside her, all too aware of each shallow breath she exhaled. After her encounter with her father, Orla had been too fatigued to sit up all day.
“We have done all that we can and my father will not be persuaded out of his arrogance and undo trust in his own abilities,” Orla asserted. Even in her weakness, her voice held steady in the confidence she never seemed to lose.
Garyth absentmindedly played with her fingers where they draped over the side of the bed. With a deep sigh he said, “And what now? We watch our tribesmen die and our villages burn?”
“No, there is another way.”
Garyth let out a small laugh, amused that– even in this state, Orla's mind was as strategic as ever.
“Come up here,” Orla beckoned him to join her and he obliged. Her pale blue eyes stared into his fiercely.
“I have seen how you capture the hearts of the men whom you lead. You do it so naturally that I imagine you don’t even notice in what high regard they hold you. They will follow you, I am certain of it.”
Garyth smiled sincerely, but there was a hesitancy in his throat. Finally he said, “you have underestimated me in many things, but I assure you this thing has not been measured erroneously. I am no leader.”
Orla took a pained breath, her body weakening more with each hour. She mustered something close to a laugh and continued. “When I saw you, I knew. I was horribly misguided about how but I knew– you would be someone great. And I did underestimate you. Not your strength. No, not your ability. I underestimated your heart.” Her eyes began to brim but no tear dropped to her cheek.
Orla bowed her head, no longer able to look into Garyth's eyes. “I have known no greater kindness than yours. And I only wish to have known it for longer.”
Garyth’s eyebrows furrowed at this and he reached a delicate hand to her cheek, as if to wipe away the non-existent tear. “You have your whole life to know it,” he reassured her, grabbing her hand tightly in his own, to which she gave him a half-hearted smile. He took her hands to his lips defiantly, determined not to let her silent disagreement lessen his confidence that she would recover. And she didn’t press the issue.
“I would have followed you anywhere,” she whispered almost to herself, letting her head fall onto his in exhaustion.
previous ||
Garyth laid his wife’s frail body onto the bed, careful of the protruding belly on her thin frame. He knelt there beside her, all too aware of each shallow breath she exhaled. After her encounter with her father, Orla had been too fatigued to sit up all day.
“We have done all that we can and my father will not be persuaded out of his arrogance and undo trust in his own abilities,” Orla asserted. Even in her weakness, her voice held steady in the confidence she never seemed to lose.
Garyth absentmindedly played with her fingers where they draped over the side of the bed. With a deep sigh he said, “And what now? We watch our tribesmen die and our villages burn?”
“No, there is another way.”
Garyth let out a small laugh, amused that– even in this state, Orla's mind was as strategic as ever.
“Come up here,” Orla beckoned him to join her and he obliged. Her pale blue eyes stared into his fiercely.
“I have seen how you capture the hearts of the men whom you lead. You do it so naturally that I imagine you don’t even notice in what high regard they hold you. They will follow you, I am certain of it.”
Garyth smiled sincerely, but there was a hesitancy in his throat. Finally he said, “you have underestimated me in many things, but I assure you this thing has not been measured erroneously. I am no leader.”
Orla took a pained breath, her body weakening more with each hour. She mustered something close to a laugh and continued. “When I saw you, I knew. I was horribly misguided about how but I knew– you would be someone great. And I did underestimate you. Not your strength. No, not your ability. I underestimated your heart.” Her eyes began to brim but no tear dropped to her cheek.
Orla bowed her head, no longer able to look into Garyth's eyes. “I have known no greater kindness than yours. And I only wish to have known it for longer.”
Garyth’s eyebrows furrowed at this and he reached a delicate hand to her cheek, as if to wipe away the non-existent tear. “You have your whole life to know it,” he reassured her, grabbing her hand tightly in his own, to which she gave him a half-hearted smile. He took her hands to his lips defiantly, determined not to let her silent disagreement lessen his confidence that she would recover. And she didn’t press the issue.
“I would have followed you anywhere,” she whispered almost to herself, letting her head fall onto his in exhaustion.
previous ||
It's Stephanie's birthday and all she wanted was a movie day
It's Stephanie's birthday and all she wanted was a movie day
Well, the years start comin' and they don't stop comin'
Well, the years start comin' and they don't stop comin'
Game night
Game night
Joyce had a better offer than staying for the birthday party. Luckily, Junie is a pretty chill mom. And with her kids growing up, Junie has been thinking more about having a biological child.
Joyce had a better offer than staying for the birthday party. Luckily, Junie is a pretty chill mom. And with her kids growing up, Junie has been thinking more about having a biological child.
The Reed family (+ friends) got together to celebrate Birch and Junie's 30th birthday! There have been hard times, but they always have each other :')
The Reed family (+ friends) got together to celebrate Birch and Junie's 30th birthday! There have been hard times, but they always have each other :')
Orla had gathered all her strength for this moment. Never would she have thought that on the advice of her husband’s brother, someone she had disdained since meeting, she would be attempting to advise her father– a man who had always hated her. Entering the Griffin clan’s land, her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the familiarity present even in the surrounding air. Flooded with memories of running along these sloping hills as a child, she was reminded that she would never truly be capable of hating her family.
She silently prayed to the gods that her father would be receptive. Though it was her own plan that would lead to her clan's demise, she now wanted nothing more than what Lùcas had said to be true. That there could be some other way, one with less bloodshed at her command. It had been her idea to warn her father, one last attempt to reconcile what she knew to have been broken long ago. She felt the finality of it all deep within herself; the life teeming from her protruding belly was just another reminder that her own time was short.
Orla entered the chief’s chambers gingerly, she had not stepped foot in them since her first scheme– and how different she was since that day. She began to speak before her estranged father could react. She told him everything: the incoming ambush by enemy tribes, the hordes of warriors that far outnumbered their own heading towards them even now, and the strategic plan that could still ensure Brigor victory.
Orla had been speaking so quickly she only now noticed that Arran had long since stopped listening. His eyes instead were locked on Orla’s stomach, now far protruding from her thinning figure. Arran dismissed his chambermaid with a grunt, and the woman swiftly left her place tending the fire. Silence elapsed between father and daughter before Arran scoffed, “Trying to defy reality I see. You of all people should know the danger of this.” There was the slightest hint of worry in his eyebrows but it faded as quickly as Orla took a breath to speak.
“Father, I know that you regard me as nothing, that you’ve hated me since my birth. I know that every time you see me, I remind you that mother would still be with you now if only I never existed. But I beg you, please consider.”
Arran’s face warped violently, confronted with the memory of his first wife, his true love. Her pregnancy with Orla had been a great joy to the new couple, but the tumultuous birth, subsequent sickness, and eventual death of his love had long etched all memories of this with bitterness. “Get out of here before I have you thrown out!” Arran's face was flushed, and Orla knew that it was not anger he felt but a deep and impenetrable sadness.
Her father could now not even look at her, too fatally reminded of his first love, taken from him too soon. Orla protested once more, “Father, look at me! There is a danger coming, and you must prepare the soldiers!”
Arran took a defiant step toward her, his rage flaring, “My armies are none of your concern, woman! They follow me and I will lead them where I please! When invaders come, we will not resort to your twisted schemes, we will fight them like men!”
previous ||
Orla had gathered all her strength for this moment. Never would she have thought that on the advice of her husband’s brother, someone she had disdained since meeting, she would be attempting to advise her father– a man who had always hated her. Entering the Griffin clan’s land, her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the familiarity present even in the surrounding air. Flooded with memories of running along these sloping hills as a child, she was reminded that she would never truly be capable of hating her family.
She silently prayed to the gods that her father would be receptive. Though it was her own plan that would lead to her clan's demise, she now wanted nothing more than what Lùcas had said to be true. That there could be some other way, one with less bloodshed at her command. It had been her idea to warn her father, one last attempt to reconcile what she knew to have been broken long ago. She felt the finality of it all deep within herself; the life teeming from her protruding belly was just another reminder that her own time was short.
Orla entered the chief’s chambers gingerly, she had not stepped foot in them since her first scheme– and how different she was since that day. She began to speak before her estranged father could react. She told him everything: the incoming ambush by enemy tribes, the hordes of warriors that far outnumbered their own heading towards them even now, and the strategic plan that could still ensure Brigor victory.
Orla had been speaking so quickly she only now noticed that Arran had long since stopped listening. His eyes instead were locked on Orla’s stomach, now far protruding from her thinning figure. Arran dismissed his chambermaid with a grunt, and the woman swiftly left her place tending the fire. Silence elapsed between father and daughter before Arran scoffed, “Trying to defy reality I see. You of all people should know the danger of this.” There was the slightest hint of worry in his eyebrows but it faded as quickly as Orla took a breath to speak.
“Father, I know that you regard me as nothing, that you’ve hated me since my birth. I know that every time you see me, I remind you that mother would still be with you now if only I never existed. But I beg you, please consider.”
Arran’s face warped violently, confronted with the memory of his first wife, his true love. Her pregnancy with Orla had been a great joy to the new couple, but the tumultuous birth, subsequent sickness, and eventual death of his love had long etched all memories of this with bitterness. “Get out of here before I have you thrown out!” Arran's face was flushed, and Orla knew that it was not anger he felt but a deep and impenetrable sadness.
Her father could now not even look at her, too fatally reminded of his first love, taken from him too soon. Orla protested once more, “Father, look at me! There is a danger coming, and you must prepare the soldiers!”
Arran took a defiant step toward her, his rage flaring, “My armies are none of your concern, woman! They follow me and I will lead them where I please! When invaders come, we will not resort to your twisted schemes, we will fight them like men!”
previous || next
Fierce firelight blazed in the midst of the Balfour camp, casting ghoulish shadows onto the figures of Garyth and the Brigson brothers as they discussed upcoming plans for the coup. Devoid of a clear leader with Orla absent, the planning had devolved into raucous arguing between Hadd and Dodson.
Lùcas entered the camp determinedly walking towards the main hut, ignoring the shouting men. Garyth rose to deter him from entering. “You shouldn’t go inside, this isn’t a good time,” he began to insist. Lùcas continued unfazed by the warning, resolute on his path.
He entered the room slowly, immediately weighed down by the heaviness in the air. Orla’s breathing was labored as he came to sit at the edge of her bed. She did not look at him immediately, her gaze distant.
“You’ve been gone for some time. Much has changed as you can tell.” She made a noise like a chuckle but it turned into a series of labored coughs.
“You need not explain,” Lùcas said knowingly, causing the woman to finally look toward him.
“It will pass,” she said, her voice faltering as if she knew it was a lie.
Lùcas smiled gently and reached a hand to Orla’s stomach. “Don’t worry. He will be alright.” Her body became rigid at his touch but she softened at the warmth she felt emanating from him. “He,” she whispered to herself.
“He is strong, even now,” Lùcas continued, his hand now firmly placed on Orla's stomach. “All your striving will not be in vain. He will be a leader in his own right, and many will owe their lives to him.”
“He will take after his mother in this way,” Lùcas added in a softer voice.
Orla stared at Lùcas wide-eyed. He spoke more confidently than she had ever experienced. Could this really be the same boy who was so unsure only 2 years prior?
“How do you do it?” She finally asked the question that had been on her mind since she had met Lùcas when he was still an awkward youth. “Even with all that you do not have, you still manage to carry no malice?”
Lùcas smiled slightly. “This we have in common, though you would never like to admit it. Our gifts we do not squander, no matter how disregarded we are by others. In fact, it is your brilliance that has led us to this moment, and we can waste no more time before–”.
“Before what?” Garyth made his presence known in the entrance of the hut.
Lùcas addressed them both now. “There is much to be done and very little time. I have learned of a plot and we will need all the help we can find. But it will require you both to trust me.”
previous ||
Fierce firelight blazed in the midst of the Balfour camp, casting ghoulish shadows onto the figures of Garyth and the Brigson brothers as they discussed upcoming plans for the coup. Devoid of a clear leader with Orla absent, the planning had devolved into raucous arguing between Hadd and Dodson.
Lùcas entered the camp determinedly walking towards the main hut, ignoring the shouting men. Garyth rose to deter him from entering. “You shouldn’t go inside, this isn’t a good time,” he began to insist. Lùcas continued unfazed by the warning, resolute on his path.
He entered the room slowly, immediately weighed down by the heaviness in the air. Orla’s breathing was labored as he came to sit at the edge of her bed. She did not look at him immediately, her gaze distant.
“You’ve been gone for some time. Much has changed as you can tell.” She made a noise like a chuckle but it turned into a series of labored coughs.
“You need not explain,” Lùcas said knowingly, causing the woman to finally look toward him.
“It will pass,” she said, her voice faltering as if she knew it was a lie.
Lùcas smiled gently and reached a hand to Orla’s stomach. “Don’t worry. He will be alright.” Her body became rigid at his touch but she softened at the warmth she felt emanating from him. “He,” she whispered to herself.
“He is strong, even now,” Lùcas continued, his hand now firmly placed on Orla's stomach. “All your striving will not be in vain. He will be a leader in his own right, and many will owe their lives to him.”
“He will take after his mother in this way,” Lùcas added in a softer voice.
Orla stared at Lùcas wide-eyed. He spoke more confidently than she had ever experienced. Could this really be the same boy who was so unsure only 2 years prior?
“How do you do it?” She finally asked the question that had been on her mind since she had met Lùcas when he was still an awkward youth. “Even with all that you do not have, you still manage to carry no malice?”
Lùcas smiled slightly. “This we have in common, though you would never like to admit it. Our gifts we do not squander, no matter how disregarded we are by others. In fact, it is your brilliance that has led us to this moment, and we can waste no more time before–”.
“Before what?” Garyth made his presence known in the entrance of the hut.
Lùcas addressed them both now. “There is much to be done and very little time. I have learned of a plot and we will need all the help we can find. But it will require you both to trust me.”
previous || next