The Elven Heritage Legacy, Chapter 13: Fresh Meat

“It’s gotta be up,” said Lydia as they made a beeline for the corkboard by the auditorium. “It was supposed to be up yesterday.”

Ana just smiled at Lydia’s back. For all that she’d had to talk her into trying out, Lydia’s focus on the school play had grown more intense by the day. The tryouts in early August had made her more or less obsessed with it.

Still, a Lydia focused on the school play, whether or not she got a part, was happier than a Lydia focused on locating her probably deadbeat dad. And Ana had no doubt in her mind that Lydia would get a part.

Sure enough, the second line of the cast list read Portia: Lydia Fairmaiden. Ana couldn’t help but give a little laugh of triumph.

“Wow, Lydia!” she said “You’re Portia! I told you you’d get a good role!”Lydia was reading the cast list with an expression not of triumph, but of

confusion.“Ana, I don’t see you on the list,” she said. “Not anywhere.”Considering that Ana had restarted her monologue twice, she hadn’t expected to

get a role. Besides, she didn’t like looking down at the crowd.

“It’s gotta be on here somewhere…” Lydia continued, moving closer to the paper. She even wiped her glasses on her sleeve, as if it would cause Ana’s name to magically appear on the paper. “I mean, I know that there aren’t a lot of female roles in the Shakespeare show, but I can’t even find you with the officers of the court… maybe you’re an attendant?”

“Lydia, it’s okay,” said Ana. “I’m probably not even part of the cast,” she added.

Lydia turned around quickly. “What do you mean, not part of the cast?” she asked, “You’ve got to be on here.”

Ana shrugged. “Well, my tryout didn’t exactly go so well,” she admitted. “I guess I’ve still got a bit of stage fright. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter to me, since they obviously had plenty of better actors.”

“Don’t say that, I’m sure you did just fine,” Lydia replied. “I mean, Derek Johnson’s got a stutter, and he’s the jailer!”

“His stutter goes away when he’s memorized something,” Lydia replied, “plus, he’s a senior, and Mr. Hallow never gender swaps characters, so of course he got a part.”

“That’s not fair at all,” Lydia objected, “I don’t see what seniority has to do with acting -”

“Like I said, it’s okay,” Ana said, “I’ll just be part of the crew or something. I’ll be right there with you the whole time, just not memorizing stuff or on stage.”

After a moment’s contemplation, Lydia seemed to come around to the idea that Ana actually was okay with it.

“I guess this saves us from you misquoting the bard everywhere,” she said.“Since nobody cares if I misquote besides you and probably Mr. Hallow, that’s

fine,” Ana replied. “Now get a move on, I want to make it to the caf before all the pizza is gone again.”

* * *

There was something highly satisfying, Ara thought, about surprising freshmen. It almost made up for the state that the house had been in when she and Rean had moved in a week ago.

Almost. From now on, freshmen were doing the cleaning, thank you very much.“Wow, party central,” said Elirand as he caught sight of the minibar that they

hadn’t even bought supplies for yet.“I know you said not to worry about housing, but this is pretty impressive,”

Achenar added.

“How did you get the residence council to agree to this?” Calla asked. “I thought that it was impossible to live outside of the dorms as a freshman.”

Ara traded a glance with Rean. “Actually, there’s a loophole in that,” she explained, “Freshman are allowed to

join heritage housing, or legacy housing – well, if they have an ancestor that donated tons of money to the college, that is.”

“There aren’t any legacy houses on campus, and haven’t been for years,” Aranel continued, “but heritage housing is a lot simpler, and all it requires is five members… which we have. Well, and special heritage, which we also have, so… problem solved, you can thank me after we do the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” asked Elirand suspiciously.“Yeah,” Ara replied, “Just seeing the pointy ears on all five of us isn’t enough for the

administration: we’ve got to sign forms, commit to being in the house for at least two years, draw up a charter…”

There was a chorus of groans from the freshmen.

“Ara, have we told you lately that we hate you?” Elirand asked when he saw the pile of paperwork in front of him.

“Not recently,” she replied. “Also, just so you know, the penalty for talking back to the house president is cleaning duty.”

“So the votes are in,” said Heather, “and Katelyn Howe is our Sorority’s new treasurer. So congratulations Katelyn. As secretary, I’ve got the current code for the safe.” She handed Katelyn a slip of paper. “Set a new one and memorize it, write it on your arm, whatever, just make sure that it isn’t left lying around.”

“Well, I’m surprised!” said Katelyn Howe nervously. What a loser, thought Nymea.“You’ll do great,” said the other Katelyn.

The Katelyns, who had annoyingly united over something as stupid as their names, shared a very sappy smile. It was all that Nymea could do not to puke with the polyannaishness of it all: she’d recently discovered that girls who proclaimed their best friendship for all the world to hear were pretty much intolerable. As far as sisterhood went, she knew that it was just a pack of lies, fed to losers so that the people who deserved to be in charge could keep them out of the way.

“All right,” said Tiffany, “next item of business is the yearly fundraiser…”* * *

“It’s really about time that we all got together,” Chali informed the crowd that had gathered in the Elkthorn living room. Actually, it had been a couple years since the original six immigrants from Elphemera had all been gathered in one room at the same time. Distance had been a factor, as had advancing careers and the increased busyness that had come with having teenage children.

Eluisa thought back: the last time all of them had been able to see each other at the same time was at Midina and Makir’s wedding.

It was weird to think that some twenty years ago, the people gathered in this room, with the notable exception of Makir, had rarely gone a week without speaking to each other in person, mostly because they’d all lived in tiny houses on the same block. Twenty years ago, Eluisa would never have caught any of her friends wearing anything but traditional elven clothes either: now, Midina was still kitted out for her job as a secretary, and everyone else was wearing jeans.

Despite the casual clothes, everyone looked older than they did in Eluisa’s mind’s eye… sometimes, she thought she might wake up and discover that she’d hallucinated being forty one, and that she was still really in her twenties: she certainly didn’t feel past forty except when she was reminded of it.

Maybe things would have been different if she’d ever gotten married or had kids, but what with one thing and another, it hadn’t come up. As it stood, she made more than enough money for herself and her little garden, and in the past twenty years she’d never met anyone who she felt the urge to share that life with.

“… an announcement to make,” said Midina, cutting through Eluisa’s reverie. “Makir and I are thinking of buying a house.”

“Here?” Viridia asked excitedly, “There’s just the spot down the shore, past the boardwalk, or over on the north side of the lighthouse, near Eluisa’s place.”

“Well, we really haven’t started looking yet,” Midina admitted, “And it would be quite the commute…”

“It’s not too bad of a commute,” Haldir put in, “It’s twenty minutes shorter to the downtown hospital ever since they finished the west expressway.”

“Well, so far we’ve only looked at some of the townhouses downtown,” Makir said, “They’re a little bit expensive, though, for only a little more space than our apartment.”

“Let me guess,” said Talon, “You’d like to have some studio space.”Makir shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t say no: sales of my current work have just

picked up, and I might be able to paint more of it if I didn’t have to store the canvases in a corner of our bedroom.”

Midina smiled at him. “We’ve been pushing for Orion to apply for scholarships to get into the Academy so that he can stand a better chance of getting into a good college,” she added. “But he’d rather be with his friends… I just don’t know about the distance,” she finished.

“Well, here or there he can certainly apply for scholarships,” Viridia said brightly, “he’s a smart boy, and I think he’d do well at the Academy. Plus, it wouldn’t be totally new: Lydia and Ana go there. Switching schools shouldn’t even be a problem, and he can still ride the bus into the city to see his friends. You should come back home, Midina – you’d fit right back in with everyone from Riverblossom Hills.”

“Well, it’s still the early stages,” Midina admitted, “I doubt we’d move this year – we haven’t even told the kids yet, since we don’t know for sure.”

“If you do move out here, you won’t regret it,” said Talon.Eluisa wondered how much of Midina’s reluctance was due to the closeness

between Lake Valley and Riverblossom Hills. As far as she knew, Leod McGreggor still lived in the outskirts of Riverblossom, though the man had to be going on fifty at this point. “As much as we’d like to have you here,” she said, “you’ve got to do what feels right. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a great place downtown.”

“Yes,” said Midina, “I suppose that we’ll just have to make the decision when the time comes. In any case, I don’t think we’ve heard about the Enson case yet, Chali – I know you promised me that you’d tell us all about it.”

Talon laughed. “Are you sure you want to hear it? It could take all night.”“Nah, just an hour or so,” said Eluisa, earning herself a grateful look from Midina.“All right,” said Chalimyra, “I have never seen a less unified jury…”

* * *

Rean glanced down at the envelope in his hand. It bore the college letterhead, which looked innocent enough… unless you had a sinking suspicion of what was inside.

The problem with higher education was that, well, it cost money. And although his parents had been forced to pay for his first year of college, since they’d already signed off on it, he very much doubted that they were going to cough up the money for his second year, especially when they had pointedly not contacted him since his father had told him to get out and never come back.

He’d held out a faint hope that his mom would see reason eventually, but clearly he’d been wrong.

Rean opened the envelope, and winced at the number it contained. Let’s see, if he got a job on campus, they’d let him work twenty two hours a week, and twenty two hours a week at eight simoleons an hour was… nowhere near the price of tuition, or even the three quarters of tuition that were left over after his scholarships.

This, Rean knew, was not going to be good.* * *

“Hey Bastian,” said Amadeus, popping his head into the room, “are you coming to dorm poker night or not?”

“Just a minute,” said Bastian, who was typing fiercely, “I’ve got two hundred words left to fill in my article, and the deadline for submissions to the Smooth Criminal is tomorrow.”

“You ended up deciding to write for that thing?” Amadeus asked. “You said you didn’t have any ideas.”

“Well, I got a good idea,” Bastian replied, before he resumed typing, “I’ve even decided on a title: The Running of the Cow. The article’s about how we ‘traditionally’ chase the Simmerson College mascots off campus following all our football games, how the tradition descends from the running of the bulls, and how we don’t use real cows because of safety reasons…” Bastian trailed off when he saw Amadeus’ eyes glaze over. “Trust me, I’m more articulate in writing,” he said, “Tell the crowd I’ll be down there in ten minutes and to save me some nachos.”

* * *

“You gonna do something about the Cow?”“Eh,” Aranel shrugged, “I don’t think that’s the klepto cow.”“How could you possibly tell? They’re identical.”

* * *

* * *

Achenar was surprised at how quickly the first quarter of his freshman year went. It seemed like one day he’d been handed his syllabus for Advanced Calculus and the next day he was writing a term paper, Elirand had a girlfriend, Calla had joined the campus literary society, and Rean barely showed up at the house between classes and shifts at the admissions office.

Aranel was… actually around the house far too much, to tell the truth. Most of the time she had company, and if it wasn’t Castor Nova, it was another member of the Chameleons, and if it wasn’t one of them, it was someone Achenar had never seen before.

Seriously, Aranel brought home some of the most random people: professors, cheerleaders, the Pizza guy, the school mascot… Achenar would have thought that she’d slow down once she got a position writing for the school’s satire newspaper, The Smooth Criminal, if he hadn’t known her for the past eighteen years.

As it was, Achenar had never met so many new people at once, nor forgotten them so quickly. The one time he’d asked Aranel why there were so many people in the house, she’d told him something about “promoting the heritage house,” and “networking,” then disappeared along with the crowd, a couple refrigerator boxes, and about half a ton of poster paint to go march somewhere on behalf of someone and honestly, Achenar didn’t know where she found the energy to do it all. Maybe the fact that she didn’t have to derive equations helped.

The other thing about spending so much of his time alone in the house with Aranel was that he knew he’d have to bring up the question of the Legacy sooner or later.

He’d tried… sort of. He didn’t really think saying something along the lines of “Hey Aranel, are you still determined to be the heir?” would go over well. Of course she was – Aranel was ambitious, and the Legacy was important… even if he wasn’t entirely certain of why, really.

So he and the rest of the family were elves. That had mattered less and less as the years went on, and honestly, aside from moving back in with his parents and inheriting the house, (a step that he was debating the merits of now that he was away at college and didn’t have to clean his room unless he felt like it,) he wasn’t entirely sure what the idea was. Aranel probably did, though, and he’d likely missed it in all her campaigning and endless energy for her cause of the week. Maybe it had something to do with meeting every single sim on campus, in which case Aranel was marvelously suited for it, and would get the job done in about three more months.

Honestly, if he had to pick the one most irritating problem with Aranel as a sister, it was that she’d known what she wanted from the day she was born and snatched it up before any of the other poor suckers who might stand a chance had even finished considering the idea.

Well, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be perfectly happy working as a physicist, hopefully at SNASA.

… Assuming he ever finished deriving these equations, that was.* * *

Nymea was lying on the couch-bed in the office with an old magazine when Katelyn Howe came in. At first, she tried to unobtrusively ignore her sorority sister, but she was unsuccessful. Katelyn had an annoying habit of always wanting to talk.

“Did you hear about the museum party downtown next Friday?” she asked Nymea, “All the tabloids are talking about it, supposedly it’s going to be filled with rich people donating to the Deh-Javu art museum.”

Nymea turned a page of her magazine, not really interested yet.

“It would be really cool to go there and see all the stars,” Katelyn continued as she dug through her pockets. “Now where’s that safe combination? I swear, I always lose this thing, it’s going to drive me crazy… oh, right, other pocket. Anyway, Ny, I thought you’d be interested, since you’ve got all those celebrity magazines.”

Nymea tried very hard not to sneer at the nickname that she thought she’d finally left behind. “I’d heard of it, thanks,” she managed to get out in a tone of polite disinterest.

“All right, then!” Katelyn replied, pulling a sheaf of papers out of the safe. “I’m glad you helped so much with the bake sale,” she added, and Nymea gritted her teeth. People who changed the subject at random irritated Nymea – actually, Katelyn irritated Nymea. “We ended up making a ton of money, especially after the Chameleons started up that muffin stuffing contest – though I swear, Kevin Beare must be able to dislocate his jaw like a snake – and you know, I caught Ashley Pitts looking at you!”

Nymea didn’t reply to that right away.

“You sure about that?” she asked, putting her magazine down.“Oh, absolutely!” Katelyn replied with an enthusiasm that made Nymea’s skin

crawl, “You’re lucky, he’s really handsome.”“And pretty rich,” Nymea added.“Yeah, that too – it’s too bad he graduates next year,” Katelyn said, “Anywhoodle,

I’ve got to go study for my anatomy test, wish me luck!” She sailed from the room in a wave of chipper over-enthusiasm, finally leaving Nymea in peace.

* * *

“So, guess what?” Amadeus asked as he walked into the lounge (which was still offensively green – and offensively tacky,) with a broad grin on his face. Bastian was almost tempted to classify it as a ‘shit eating grin.’

“Chicken butt?” Bastian offered, since he had no idea what the good news was.Amadeus rolled his eyes at him. “I made first violin,” he said, flopping down

on the couch.

“Well, that’s not a surprise,” said Bastian. He got whacked with a ratty couch pillow for his trouble. “I mean, congratulations! So this means all the other violins have to line up behind you, right?”

“It means that I get to play a solo in the spring orchestra concert,” said Amadeus. “Are you going to come and see it? I mean, I know it’s classical music, but someone ought to.”

“And that someone’s your best friend who happens to owe you one since you saved my ass revising my lit 102 term paper last semester.”

“Well, since you put it that way…”Bastian shrugged and closed his book. “I’ll come, but sitting through two hours of

classical music is going to cost you at least looking over another of my term papers,” he joked.

“At least you’ve left lit 102 and your abuse of the common comma behind,” Amadeus replied. “Anyway, classical music will expand your mind, which definitely needs it, since your taste in music sucks.”

Bastian snorted. “Hey, I’m allowed to like ‘formulaic capitalist popular rock’ if I want to. Just remember that when you have to disappoint all the girls digging the long-haired permanently unemployed musician thing, you tell them that you have a perfectly available straight friend who isn’t a music snob.”

“Some day,” Amadeus predicted rolling his eyes, “You’re going to meet a girl who is just as much of a dumbass as you are.”

* * *

Nymea sighed as she stared at her email inbox. She still owed the school two thousand dollars in tuition, and just that morning she had received a letter from her mother, who couldn’t understand why it was taking her so long to find a husband and who would “waste more money on your frivolities” when hell froze over.

Her mother’s deadline was clear: find a fiancé by the end of the school year. Not that two thousand dollars were forthcoming if she did.

She was going to have to make the money somehow.

* * *

Rean dragged himself home to find that only Calla and Aranel were in the kitchen. Unless you counted what was left of last night’s pizza, which resembled a star trek alien but thankfully hadn’t yet developed sentient mold, probably due to Calla sticking it in the fridge some time the night before. She remembered things like that.

“I’m never speed dating again,” he said as he collapsed into a chair.Aranel looked up from her newspaper. “Why, what happened?”“Assholes happened.”

“Too much information, Rean,” Aranel replied.“Ara, stop being a jerk,” Calla said from behind her mountain of binders, “You know

what he meant. Why, who was an asshole, Rean?”Rean waved off Aranel’s comment. “You mean, who was more of an asshole than Ara?

Speed date number eight, who said, and I quote ‘Nice ears. Do you wear a skirt and shoot arrows in your free time or what?’”

Calla winced. Aranel shrugged. “Well, fuck that douche bag,” she said, “Or actually don’t, but you know what I mean.

Still, that’s just one guy out of… eh, lots. I don’t see why you’re letting him ruin your night.”Rean sighed. “Ara, that’s like the hundredth comment I’ve gotten about the ears,” he said,

“It’s getting old. I’m sick of people making stupid jokes, I’m sick of people asking if they can touch them, I’m sick of Kevin Beare making me quote lines from Lord of the Rings, and I’m sick of jackasses telling me that ‘pointy eared people are like aliens, too weird to be fuckable.’”

“Well, that’s harsh,” said Calla.“Actually, that’s speed date number ten, the reason I’m back early,” Rean said, then

sighed.“Cheer up,” said Aranel, “there’s got to be some guy out there who thinks pointy ears

is a turn-on.”“Yeah, on a chick,” Rean grumbled. “Seriously, the number of guys who I’ve thought

were going to ask me for my number and only wanted to know if I could ‘introduce them to the hot redheaded chick with the pointy ears…’”

“I think you’ve used up your quota of sarcastic air quotes for the year, Rean,” Calla put in.

Meanwhile, Aranel was frowning. “Wait, who wanted you to introduce them to me? Was it that hot guy with the afro in the Student U last week? I was sure he was flirting with you.”

“Oh, the one with the accent?” Calla asked, perking up.“Yeah, him,” Rean said, waving his hand dismissively, “He couldn’t get a sentence

out without using the word ‘bro,’ though.”

Ara shrugged. “Well, you know my policy, if they can’t work up the nerve to introduce themselves they’re not worth my time,” she said.

It was at that moment that Elirand came down the stairs all dressed up to go out.“You look like the Fonz,” Calla told him. Elirand ignored her.“Are you guys talking about dudes again?” he asked.“Dudes and jackasses,” Aranel replied, “What’s up with you, going

somewhere?”

Elirand grinned. “Yup, I’m taking Heather Huffington out to karaoke,” he said.“… on the set of Happy Days,” Calla said.“Oh yeah, Calla, I have a huge favor to ask of you,” Elirand continued, “can

you convince Achenar to let me borrow his chem textbook and notes? It’s only that I don’t get the point of this lab,” he said with a shrug. Then, before Calla could say anything, he walked out.

“Or you could stay here and study something besides anatomy for a change,” Calla grumbled as the door shut behind him. Then she sank into her binder pile with a groan. “Aranel, my brother’s a moron,” she said. “All he’s done since we hit college is chase girls!”

“Well, mine’s a nerdburger and too nice for his own good,” Aranel replied, “but you seem to like him okay. Who knows, any moment now Elirand might start thinking with his upstairs brain.” Calla shot Aranel a dirty look, but Aranel just grinned at her.

“Well, if we’re gong to talk about siblings, I’m going to go up and see how long it takes before my philosophy readings put me to sleep,” said Rean, “unlike you guys, I’ve got to work in the morning.”

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard, “Nerdburger? Really, Ara? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

* * *

“But I don’t understand!” Katelyn Howe said, nearly in tears, “I swear I put the money in the safe on Friday!”

The other Katelyn looked on in sympathy while Brittany Upsnott looked less than impressed. “Nevertheless, there is no money in the safe this morning,” she said. “That’s five hundred dollars from the winter social alone, and all the money we got from Health Marathon, which we hadn’t even counted yet.”

“I know,” Katelyn said miserably. “Is it possible that you left the combination somewhere?” Tiffany said gently.

“No! I… I don’t know. Yes, I guess?” said Katelyn, looking around the room for support. “I don’t think I did, I’m never that careless, I memorized the combination back in October…”

Heather shook her head, “I want to believe it was an accident, Katie,” she said, “But the fact remains that we haven’t had any parties this weekend, and that nobody without a house key should have been able to get into the office anyway. One of us has to have taken it, and the only person who we know knows the combination that you set is you.”

“I – I’m sorry, it wasn’t me, I swear!” said Katelyn, “Maybe it just fell behind some folders?”

Tiffany raised an eyebrow. “Five hundred dollars in fifties, and who knows how many dollars in ones and fives, fell behind a folder in the safe? Where did it go when Brittany and I took everything out of the safe, then?”

Katelyn Howe blushed. “I… I don’t know?’“Last chance, Katelyn,” said Brittany, “just tell us what you did. Did you leave it

in the cashbox, or out on the desk, or did you ‘accidentally’ put it in your wallet?”

“I didn’t!” Katelyn protested.“If you give the money back, you might not be expelled,” Heather pointed out

kindly, “But if we have to go to the police, you’re done at SSU, not just Tri-Var.”“But you’re my sorority sisters! I would never do that to you, or to the house!

I’d never do that to the kids who count on the money we make at Health Marathon!” She was crying now, in great big gulping sobs, while Nymea looked on in disgust. Even Katelyn Boyle looked skeptical by now.

Brittany shook her head. “I move to immediately remove Katelyn Howe from her position as Sorority Treasurer,” she said.

“Seconded,” Tiffany said.“All for the immediate removal of Treasurer Howe?” Brittany asked. Heather and

Nymea’s hands went up, and then, hesitantly, Katelyn Boyle’s. “The vote is unanimous. Vice President Sampsonand Secretary Huffington, please watch ex-Treasurer Howe while I call campus affairs.”

Brittany swept from the room, ignoring Katelyn Howe’s sniffling entirely.* * *

“Ara, will you do something about that cow?”“Sure thing, Rean,” Aranel replied, smiling, “He’s after our alcohol, so you could say

that I have a beef with him.”There was a loud groan from the living room, probably prompted by the pun. The

Simmerson College mascot took a good look at Aranel – however he managed it with the cow head – and fled out the back door.

* * *

“The quality of mercy is not strain’d, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; it blesseth he who... Crap. It blesseth him that gives…”

“Lydia! Dinner’s ready!” Makir’s voice echoed up the stairs.“Coming!” Lydia pried herself up off the floor, where she’d been attempting to get

completely off-book for the courtroom scene. Sure, it was a week before she had to have the entire part of Portia memorized, but given that she was only a sophomore and somehow had managed to be placed as the play’s female lead, she felt like more was expected of her.

Downstairs, Orion and Delphina had already assembled for spaghetti.“Mom’s out tonight?” Lydia asked as she sat down.“Yeah, she’s got a work thing,” Orion said between bites.“Chew, swallow, talk, Orion,” said Makir. “Wow, I didn’t know Orion was a verb,” replied the teenage boy, which earned him a

giggle from Delphina and an eye roll from Lydia and Makir.“Yeah, it’s definition is the act of making terribly sad wannabe puns at the dinner

table,” Lydia said under her breath.“Daddy! Lydia and Orion are fighting!” Delphina tattled immediately.

“Children, you know the rules. All fights happen outside and the evidence has to be cleaned up before your mother gets home,” Makir said to the two teenagers, then continued. “Why don’t you distract them, Delphie? Tell us about your day at school.”

“Well, I had to go to the library and write a report about bugs,” Delphina said, “Only Cherish said that beetles were a yucky animal to write a report about and that I should change it, and I told her that her animal was yuckier. Goldfish swim in their own toilet!”

Lydia listened to the continued prattle of her eight year old sister’s third grade drama with half an ear, trading sarcastic commentary with Orion under her breath, until Delphina ran out of steam.

“Orion, you’re up next,” Makir told him.“Let’s see, I got up, ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, didn’t skip any of my classes, came

home. Nothing happened,” Orion said.“One thing, Orion, or I’m going to be forced to tell your mother that her only son is

boring,” said Makir.“Fine. We started proofs in Geometry. They suck.”

“Thank you so much for your contribution to polite conversation,” Makir replied dryly.“It’s a skill.”“They finished the courtroom set today,” Lydia volunteered, “Klutz McKellan even

managed to hang the curtains without stapling himself to the wall again.” Poor Kurt McKellan was never going to loose his build nickname, no matter how many sets he managed to finish without a disaster.

“Lydia, will you give me a theater nickname?” Delphina asked.“What, you mean like squirt?”

“That’s not a theater nickname!” Delphina protested. “Sounds like one to me,” Lydia replied. “You could call her hobbit,” Orion teased, “Or oompa-loompa, or munchkin…”“I am not short!” Delphina shrieked, “I’m taller than you were at my age, Daddy said

so!”“And you’re both shorter than I was,” Lydia cut in, hoping to cut off the argument and

avoid having to measure Delphina, “right, Makir?”“You shouldn’t call Daddy by his first name,” Delphina informed her primly, “Miss

Stevens said it’s disrespectful.”

The words he’s not my dad, rose to Lydia’s mind, but, fortunately, not her tongue. She and Makir exchanged an awkwardly silent look.

“All right, miss bossy,” she said to Delphina after a moment, hoping that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, Orion chose that moment to actually pay attention.

“Yeah, how come you call him Makir and not Dad?” Orion asked. “I mean, I know he’s not your real dad, but he’s been with mom since before I was born, I’d think you could learn to deal.”

“Liar!” Delphina said to Orion, “Makir is too our real Daddy!”

“What do you know about it?” Orion challenged, “I said he’s not Lydia’s real dad, dummy.”

“Daddy! Orion’s calling me names!”Makir sighed. “All right, everybody, stack your plates and get on the couch. We

have an explanation coming up, though I would have preferred that we do this with your mother.”

There was a moment of relative silence, while they all stacked and scraped their plates, though Orion and Delphina kept shooting Makir curious looks.

“All right,” Makir said as they settled on the couch. “Orion, explain how you know that Lydia isn’t biologically related to me.”

Orion shrugged. “I’ve known for years,” he said, “I took biology… um, also, I kind of overheard Lydia and Ana talking about it. A few times. It’s not like Lydia’s ever been very discreet about wanting to learn who her real dad is…”

Makir gave Lydia a level look. “She and I will be talking to your mother about that later. Orion’s right: when I met your mother, Lydia was about five months old and Midina was about two months into her pregnancy with Orion.”

Orion blinked. “Hold the phone,” he said.

“You heard me right, Orion,” Makir said, “No, I am not your father.”There was a moment of stunned silence. Lydia and Delphina were both staring at

Orion.“… You just sucked all the fun out of Star Wars,” Orion complained in a small voice.“I am, however, very glad to be your Dad,” Makir continued gently. “And that goes

for all of you. Even if Delphina is the only one in this room to share any genes with me, I hope I’ve taught each of you something valuable, and I hope that I’ve given you each all the love and support that you deserve.”

“It was your mother’s decision not to tell you if it didn’t come up,” Makir continued, “and I’ve respected her wishes. However, your mother and I were still in the early stages of our relationship when Lydia was learning to talk, so she never learned to call me Dad. Later, it didn’t seem right to demand that she do so. Lydia guessed about five years ago, so your mother told her what she needed to know. It’s been Lydia’s choice to call me by my first name since then. I love all three of you very much, and I wouldn’t change any of you, regardless of whose DNA you have. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Orion said, “Do you know me and Lydia’s dad’s name?”“No, I don’t,” Makir replied, maybe a little too quickly to Lydia’s way of

thinking. “I never met him, and your mother has decided that it’s best for both of you not to say. You can ask her about it when she gets home.”

Delphina raised her hand high. “Does this mean that Lydia’s not my sister and Orion’s not my brother?”

“No, it does not,” Makir said. “Technically speaking, they’re your half-sister and half-brother, but that shouldn’t change how you think of them. Any more questions?”

Three heads shook no.

There was a contemplative silence as Lydia and Orion washed the dishes, one which stretched the remaining hours until Delphina was sent upstairs to brush her teeth and get into bed. No one really wanted to say anything until Midina got home.

Midina found the three of them waiting on the couch. “Your children have something to tell you,” Makir told her as she walked in the

door. “You may want to sit down.”Midina sat, casting a curious look between her two oldest children as she did so.

“Makir, what’s this about?” she asked, “Did they get into trouble, or…?”“Mom?” Lydia said, tentatively, “Orion knows.”

A look of shock passed over Midina’s face, before she turned to Orion. “What do you know?” she asked him.

“That Dad’s our stepdad,” Orion replied, squirming in his seat, “He said we had to ask you if we wanted any details.”

Midina turned to Lydia. “Lydia, did you tell him?” she asked.“No, Midina. Orion guessed,” Makir put in, “at dinner, so rather than leave them all

wondering, I told them the truth.’“I see,” Midina said, pursing her lips. “Orion, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Lydia,

years ago: no good can come of looking for your biological father.”

That wasn’t what Lydia remembered her saying. “Then why does Lydia keep looking for him?” Orion asked loudly, and Lydia wished

she was sitting next to him so she could reach over and kick him. Not that it was going to help: Midina had already turned a glare that was part anger, part disappointment, on her.

“Is this true, Lydia?” she asked.“Sort of?” Lydia squeaked, “I just want to know his name – it could be really

important, what if he has some sort of genetic disease that we could inherit, or we have extended family, like grandparents?”

“Lydia, how could you -”“And I’m sixteen now and I’m old enough to know,” she plowed on, “It isn’t

right that you’ve been keeping this from Orion and me: you can’t just assume that we’ll never need to know. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just keep looking!”

“Lydia, I forbid you to search for your father!” Midina shouted. Orion edged away from the conversation as far as his chair would let him, “He – he – there are a thousand reasons why I will never tell you his name! It’s for your own good, why can’t you just accept that I’ve done what is best for all of us in keeping you away from that man!”

“Maybe because you haven’t told me why!” Lydia shouted back. “Maybe because you’ve lied to us and told us that Makir was our father! If I hadn’t figured it out, you would never have stopped lying! You didn’t even tell me the first time that Orion was my full brother, how do I know you’re not hiding something else? What is it going to take for you to tell us the truth? ”

“I have done what I thought was best!” Midina shouted over her. “I cannot believe that you would go behind my back to do this, to reject your own family -”

“Midina,” Makir said quietly, with his hands up, “no one said anything about Lydia rejecting our family.”

“The only person rejecting my family here is you,” Lydia told her mother with a snarl. She felt awful about it instantly, as her mother’s face drained of color, but the cold, still anger inside of her had driven her words forward and she couldn’t take them back.

“You… You… you should be ashamed,” Midina stuttered out, “ashamed of yourself - to call that man your father…” All at once, she started to cry.

“Orion, Lydia, upstairs,” Makir told them in a low voice, before standing up and wrapping his arms around his sobbing wife.

Orion and Lydia made it upstairs before they both halted outside of their respective doors. Orion looked like he was about to say something, then stopped.

“I know of a way to find out,” Lydia said to Orion in an undertone, “once I turn eighteen. She won’t be able to stop me. If you like, I’ll tell you when I know.”

Orion was shaking his head before she even finished. “No,” he said, “If Mom thinks he was a scumbag, then as far as I’m concerned, he’s a scumbag,” he said. “I don’t care. Have fun with all of…” he waved a hand vaguely, “this.”

Lydia nodded, and turned to open her own door. “You really are a piece of work, Lyds,” Orion said to his own doorknob.

* * *

“Hey Ara, the cow’s back,” said Achenar, “again.”“Not my problem,” Aranel said around a mouthful of pizza.“He’s only here to steal our pizza and TP the house again,” Achenar said, and

then moved to get up. Before he could make it off the couch, Aranel stopped him.“Watch and learn, young padawan,” Ara said, “I’ve discovered a way to take

care of it without even lifting a finger: invite the llama over.”

Across the room, the cow and the llama came face to face. Aranel watched in anticipation.

None of those present in the living room were at all disappointed by the result.… Except maybe the Simmerson College Mascot.“Woo, go team!” Aranel yelled from the sidelines.“If they get hurt, it’s Elirand’s problem, not mine,” Achenar grumbled while his

sister cheered on the Llama. Behind them, a classmate of Aranel’s just wrung his hands and muttered about concussions.

“Five simoleons on the Llama!” Needless to say, no one took Aranel up on it.

* * *

“Hey, Aunt Elu,” Lydia said as Eluisa stared at the chocolate chip cookie recipe, trying to remember what a ‘tsp’ was and whether or not she had any baking powder.

“Hmmm?” Baking soda, she had baking soda, was that the same thing? Or was it going to make her cookies explode? She had no idea why she’d decided to learn to bake in the first place, come to think of it…

“Theoretically, if you had a secret, and it involved someone else who really needed to know – who had a right to know – would it be right not to tell them?”

Eluisa frowned at her empty mixing bowl, and then took a roll of break-n’-bake cookies out of the freezer, aware that she was not actually making progress in learning to cook. “That would depend on the hypothetical kind of secret,” she said. “And how you define having a right to know. If this second person was in danger because they didn’t know, that would be one thing, but…”

“If the secret was about the second person, though – hypothetically – if knowing more about themselves would completely change their life, then surely you can’t justify keeping that person in the dark and denying them the right to chose for themselves.”

Eluisa sighed as she broke cookie-shaped lumps of dough apart and placed them in the pan. “Lydia, are you sure this problem is hypothetical?”

“Well, not exactly,” Lydia said. “You know Makir isn’t my real dad, right?”Eluisa was, in fact, very aware that Makir wasn’t biologically related to

Lydia or Orion. And she definitely knew where this was going now.“And why do you think that?” she asked, and got a teenage eye-roll for her

trouble.“Two blondes don’t generally produce a brunette,” Lydia replied dryly. “I

also look nothing like Makir, Orion, or Delphina.”

“And you asked your mother about it?” Eluisa asked.“Yeah,” Lydia replied with a bitter snort, “She told me that she cut ties with

my dad before I was born, and to just forget about it. And I get it, I really do, I probably wasn’t prepared for the whole story at twelve, but I’m seventeen now and you would think that was old enough to at least tell me his name.”

She let out a heavy sigh and picked at the seam of her jeans under the countertop.

Eluisa put the cookies in the oven. “I’m sure your mother has her reasons -”“I know you’ve got to be on Mom’s side because you’re an adult and her

best friend and I’m just a teenager, but don’t you think -”“Lydia, I’m not on anyone’s side. There aren’t any sides in this.”

“But you know who my dad is.”Drat. Eluisa knew Lydia would be able to tell if she lied to her – and she didn’t

want to be yet another adult who lied because it was easier. And she hadn’t preheated the oven. Drat.

“Yes, Lydia,” she said, “I know your father’s name. I also know, to a certain extent, why your mother thought it was best for you not to know him.”

“But you’re not going to tell me.”

“I’m going to respect your mother’s decision,” Eluisa corrected her. “She made it with your best interest at heart, you know.”

“She made it when I was a baby,” Lydia insisted, “I’m not a kid anymore and I’m not stupid and I’m not fragile. I can take it. It’s not going to gut my world to know that they fought all the time, or that he was a drunk, or that he was married to someone else – I get that relationships sometimes just don’t work. But I’m old enough now that I have a right to know who I am.”

“Lydia…”“It’s not going to destroy my respect for her either, no matter what she tells me,”

Lydia continued, “I know that she and Makir have worked hard for all of us, I know Makir doesn’t care that I’m not his daughter and doesn’t treat me any differently than he treats Orion or Delphina… I just wish that Mom trusted me to be able to handle this.”

Eluisa sighed again, and realized that she hadn’t set the oven timer. “I don’t think it’s your reaction that she’s worried about.”

“Then what is the big deal?” Lydia nearly shouted, throwing her arms up in the air.

“Like I said, I’m not going to answer that,” Eluisa replied, “Just know that your mom did the best she could with a pretty awful situation, and that if she doesn’t want to talk about it, you’re not going to get any information out of her.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lydia grumbled, “It’s not like you grew up not even knowing who you were.”

Eluisa walked around the island to sit down next to Lydia. “Actually, I never knew my father’s name either,” she said lightly.

“Next you’re going to tell me that you got over it because your mother told you to mind your own business.”

“Well, no,” Eluisa replied, with a wistful smile, “It mattered a lot to me when I was a child – nobody likes being called a bastard – but later, other things were more important.”

“… Because your mom died before you were old enough to know,” Lydia finished, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I didn’t know that she never even told you his name.”

“I think she really was planning to tell me when I was older,” Eluisa said. “Though you have to understand, being grown up was a little different in Elphemerea. When I was your age, my grandmother wanted me to join the Queen’s guard, whereas you’re still a year and a half away from college.”

“I know that,” Lydia said quietly. “Were you really that unhappy then?”

Eluisa shrugged. “I think I was like a lot of teenagers: bored and restless, and wondering where I fit into the world. Not knowing certainly didn’t help, but it alone didn’t make me miserable either.”

Lydia nodded. “I guess. I mean, I could have a lot worse problems than not knowing who my father is. It’s not like I don’t know anyone else whose parents have split up. But it bothers me, you know? I can’t stop thinking about it, and all the things that I’ve missed, never knowing him. I love my mom, but I’m nothing like her, you know? Maybe I’m more like him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re nothing like your mom…” Eluisa said, wincing internally at the idea that Lydia would be anything like her father.

“Okay, I look like her a bit, but she’s strong and graceful and great with people and pretty much never says the wrong thing… and I’m not,” Lydia said with a shrug. “And you should hear her ask me questions: do I have a boyfriend, do I have a crush, that sort of stuff. Like she’s expecting it any moment now… as if she won’t be the third person to know when I get a crush on someone.”

“She’s looking out for you.”“I know, I know,” Lydia replied, “I just wish she’d trust me enough to teach me

about things rather than trying to keep me in the dark. And there are all sorts of reasons besides my curiosity: what if my father has some sort of hereditary medical problem?”

Eluisa thought about it for a moment. “All right,” she said, “Against my better judgment, I’ll make a deal with you. If, after you turn eighteen, your mom still won’t tell you his name, I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Really?” Lydia asked, brightening up, “You’d do that?”“Let’s say I’m realistic about you being able to pick bits and pieces of it up on

your own,” Eluisa replied dryly, “It’s better that you have as much of the story as possible, if only to finally satisfy your curiosity.” It would also do Lydia some good, she thought, to get some parts of the story from someone who was a little more removed from it than Midina.

Lydia smiled broadly. “Deal!” she said.

“I haven’t told you what your half of the bargain will be,” Eluisa told her reprovingly. “In exchange, you’re going to stop pestering your mother about it until you do turn eighteen.”

Lydia’s mouth opened and shut like a fish’s. “But… that’s…”“Fair, don’t you think?”“But it’s going to take me ages to convince her to tell me when I do turn eighteen!”“It’s that or no deal, Lydia Elaine Fairmaiden.”

“All right,” Lydia grumbled with ill grace, just before the oven timer went off with a shrill beep.

Eluisa took the cookies out of the oven and placed the pan on the counter for inspection. The cookies were still a bit on the pale side… and somewhat gooey. Extremely gooey, in fact. They were approximately the shape and consistency of lazy slugs.

“I don’t suppose you know how much longer I need to put these in for?” she asked.* * *

“Thank the Green Ones,” Aranel said when Rean showed up at her poster with finger food and a glass of lemonade, “I was beginning to feel like I swallowed a desert.”

Rean chuckled, eyeing the crowd in the convention center. There were nearly a hundred students there to present their papers and theses – it was a bit like the science fair on steroids.

“So, what did you learn about the… predictive validity of pre-election polling?” Rean asked, reading off her poster.

“No, shut up, don’t you start,” Aranel said, smacking him in the shoulder.

“What? Can’t I be interested in… er… the statistical analysis of vote distribution?” Rean asked with a shit-eating grin.

“No, you cannot,” Aranel informed him, “You weren’t interested when I was writing it, you can’t change your mind now.”

“Too bad your brother isn’t here to appreciate all the numbers.”“Yeah, well, our idiot freshmen are probably still raiding the dessert bar,” Aranel

said around a mouthful of crackers and cheese. “Which reminds me, if nobody stops by in the next two minutes, I’m going to make a break for it.”

“Why don’t you just go now? You can’t explain your poster with food in your mouth.”

Aranel looked around furtively, trying to make sure her advisor didn’t catch her deserting her station. “You’re right, let’s go,” she said, “I can’t stand to hear my own schpeal again and I haven’t had the chance to hear anyone else’s.”

“… And in conclusion, green roofs not only reduce the amount of runoff, but reduce the urban heat island effect, and can be used as valuable living space and potentially as community gardens in poor urban areas.”

The crowd around the poster made appreciative murmurs. “But how will the community access the garden?” Aranel cut in, “If it’s on the top of a public building, that’s one thing, but most of your investors would be private companies.”

The presenter turned around and looked at her. “Ideally, the company would donate the space to the community at large, and a separate stairwell would be constructed to access it,” he said, “However, my design can also be applied to newly constructed low-income apartment housing, so that it would directly benefit the people who live there and otherwise wouldn’t have access to much green space.”

Aranel shrugged. “Sure, it sounds great,” she said, “Theoretically I’m all for it. But practically speaking, how are you going to get city governments to spring for the extra expense?”

The presenter’s eyes narrowed at her. “That’s outside the scope of my project,” he said, “but I’m confident that as the materials become cheaper and the benefits become more well known, they’ll either find the money or find someone to donate it.”

“Sure, we’ve got plenty of idealists in the arts,” Aranel replied with a mischievous smile.

Rean groaned. “Okay, time to stop pestering the architect,” he said, stepping forward for an introduction that was also a goodbye. “It’s a good poster, actually, very impressive. I’m Rean Greenleaf, and it’s my fault she’s off her leash.”

The presenter shook his hand with a weary grin. “Bastian Roanoke, Hopeless Idealist. Trust me, these are the most intelligent questions I’ve had all night.”

“Aranel Elvensong, Devil’s Advocate,” Aranel replied with a face-cracking smirk.

“Aranel E. Elvensong?” Bastian asked, “What am I talking about, there can’t be more than one. You write for the Smooth Criminal, right?”

“Yeah, for the Politics and Other Public Displays of Dumbassery section,” Aranel said, “Don’t you do humor?”

“Mostly,” Bastian replied, “Sometimes I do sports, which is the same thing, because our team is a joke.”

Aranel groaned. “Please tell me you don’t use lines like that in your articles.”

“They’re going to be here all night,” said the blond man standing by the poster to Rean, “Typical Bastian, really. I’m Amadeus Sauveri, in case you’re still interested in introductions.”

Rean smiled and shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Also pleased to dump Ara on somebody she can geek out with – I’m Philosophy for now and just here for the food.”

“Music,” Amadeus replied, “same here. In that case, want to go grab some coffee?”* * *

The first year of the Elven Heritage House

President: Aranel

Elvensong

Vice President: Rean Greenleaf

Treasurer: Elirand

Elkthorn

Secretary:Calanthe Elkthorn

Achenar Elvensong

Ariadne Riann Elvensong

Spring Break Photographs

LaBelle

LaBelle

LaBelle

LaBelle

“The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o’er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o’er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But reasoning is not in the fashion to chose me a husband. O me, the word ‘chose!’ I may neither chose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot chose one or refuse none?”

“Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?”

“I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my affection.”

“First, there is the Neapolitan prince.”“Ay, that’s a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he

makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. I am much afeared my lady his mother played false with a smith.”

“Then there is the County Palatine.”“He doth nothing but frown, as who should say ‘If you will not have me, chose.’ He

hears merry tales and smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married a death’s-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me from those two!”

“How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?”“God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin

to be a mocker: but he! Why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan’s, a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man. If a throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he will fence with his own shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him.”

“Wow, she’s awesome,” said Lizzette, from where she and Ana were leaning against the balcony.

“Yes she is,” Ana said, feeling a bit of her pride seep into her voice. She knew she wasn’t quite the literary type, but watching as Lydia became the characters made Shakespeare easy to understand.

“So, let me get this straight,” Lizzette replied, “She’s talented, she’s beautiful… and you say you’re not dating her?”

Ana’s face grew as red as her hair.

“Well, I usually prefer guys,” she mumbled.“Fair enough,” replied Lizzette, “It’s just that the two of you seem really close,

so… everyone thinks you’re dating.”“I’ve known Lydia forever,” Ana replied.“And that’s awkward, yeah, I get it.”Ana chewed her lip. “Well, it’s not just that,” she said, “I can’t imagine Lydia

dating anyone, you know? I mean, flowers, candy hearts, kissing… it’s so not her.”

“Hey, Lydia!”Lydia turned around to find that Lani was hailing her from halfway across the auditorium. She

hadn’t even changed out of her dress yet, though the dress rehearsal had been over for at least fifteen minutes.

“Yeah, Lani?”“I… well, I was wondering, you and Ana,” she said, “I mean… how did you work up the courage

to ask her?”

Lydia did some quick mental arithmetic. How did I work up the courage to ask her to try out for the play? She thought. She just badgered me about how fun it would be until I told her she had to try out and keep her company.

Not wanting to go into the story of why Ana had decided she was obsessed with meeting her biological father, Lydia just shrugged. “I sort of just said it,” she said.

Lani took a deep breath. “Okay, thank you,” she said, before running off.

Weird, thought Lydia. Then she saw Ana jogging down the aisle towards her.“Great job,” Ana said, “though it feels so weird that it’s almost over, after we

worked on it most of the year.”“Yeah, you were right,” Lydia replied, “It does feel really weird not to have

to repeat any lines, or change the blocking… and really weird that we’re going to have a new director next year. I’d almost gotten used to Mr. Hallow yelling at people for not paying attention to the punctuation.”

“That means we’re trying out next year, right?” Ana asked.“Well, I am,” said Lydia, “You can if you want to.”“In that case, I think I’ll stick with the crew,” Ana replied, “I think I work better

behind the scenes, where I can concentrate on putting stuff together.”“You mean, following me around with a spotlight?”“Yeah, that too,” said Ana. “Anyway, now that you’re out of costume, you can

finally come get ice cream with me.”

* * *

Author’s note

Yes, Lydia is judging you. You know what you’ve done! And so does she!I got the vast majority of this done during CreMo. Next chapter is a

double-decker of Lydia and Ana’s senior year of high school and freshman year of college, which I’d better get out before the end of the year.

So I realize the difference in the poster sizes was a massive editing error on my part. Just imagine that Bastian’s department got priority on the really big printer. (Which makes sense, given that the only reason my department at college ever got nice posters was because the Geography department, which used the massive poster printer to make maps, was basically Environmental Sci’s best buddy.) Assume that Poli Sci is on the underfunded short end of the totem pole when it comes to scholarly functions.

Not to rush off topic, but if anyone ever is, like me, stupid enough to try and stage an Academic Poster Session, seriously just put it in a box somewhere with no windows, white walls, and a bunch of college sims summoned. Then just let them mill about like sheep.

This was drastically easier than Prom, let me tell you.

I have a LTW to announce, technically the second I have completed in this legacy. (Career progress reset for everyone last time I had to rebuild, so the adults should be maxing their wants any day now, and I’m hastily trying to re-permaplat Talon Elkthorn, who earned 100k right before I had to rebuild.)

It’s Rean, pictured above exiting, pursued by bees. I finished his LTW (50 first dates) during the gameplay of his sophomore year, so he could a) get a new LTW b) declare a freaking major.

Rean being the sucker that he is, a) did not go plat off his 50 th first date with Amadeus because of how Free Time nerfed Lifetime wants, b)rolled a new Lifetime Want of 50 dream dates.

Once I stopped laughing and crying at the same time, I put him in Philosophy as revenge. At least Amadeus will have fun on those 50 dream dates.