KISS THEM AWAKE IN THE MORNINGThe White Legacy:

Generation One, Chapter Two

Ah, I see you’ve decided to come back, eh? I’m glad!

Last time, we met our legacy founder, Snow White. She married Patrick, and together they declared war on my control of their lives. I believe Snow was the instigator, because I wouldn’t let her buy a new wardrobe, or something stupid like that. I promised them a honeymoon, and they struck a blow at me in the war by getting pregnant before it was Time. Baltic was born and had his toddler birthday.

Snow: “Where are you taking the cake, hon?”

Patrick: “To the garbage disposal, ma cherie, for our family funds are at present being carefully hoarded for our impending honeymoon abroad. Were it otherwise, we would have more counter space upon which to place the dispenser of smart milk. Since we do not have that counter space, I must dispose of the uneaten cake if we are to be able to give our son his growth-inducing formula.”

Bal: “Boo ba shi baba.” *yawn*

Bal: {I wonder what Mother is doing with the sparkly milk bottle. Is it meant for me? Do sparkles taste good?}

Bal: {Hm, indeed. Sparkles are a superior food. I wonder how they would taste if the host milk was chocolate-flavored instead of this rather suspicious lime green?}

I love Bal. He is über cute. I heart the little guy too much.

Snow: “How’s it going in there, honey?”

Patrick: “Very well, ma cherie. Although, I still do not fully understand why I, the member of the household with the fewest neat points, am the one forced to attend to the puddles of water which accumulate in the bathroom.”

Because you’re the one who causes them, dipstick. Also, consider it retribution.

Patrick: “If I may be so bold, Miss Author, for what must I retribute?”

You are not the sweet, gentlemanly man you advertised yourself to be.

Patrick: “This aged argument comes up again? I do believe I have mentioned it before, but I never pretended to be anyone except for myself. It is not my fault if you initially interpreted my character incorrectly.”

Just keep mopping. And don’t expect to be let off bathroom duty for a while yet, even under the cease fire.

Bal gets his toddler training crammed in on Wednesday night. I decided you didn’t really need a picture of every skill, though I’m sure you would have loved to see more of Bal’s adorable little face.

Snow and Patrick then head off to Takemizu Village, dropping Bal off at a nanny’s house on the way. They check in at the Steaming Dragon Hotel, the cheapest available. Snow then continues her tradition of an overwhelming show of gratitude for letting her go on a vacation when she’s a pretty much brand new legacy founder.

Snow: “That was the longest plane ride of my life.”

Nearly twelve hours.

Snow: “I AM SO JET LAGGED.”

All part of the experience. Don’t worry, you’ll recover from it by the time you have to leave.

Patrick: “And providing my signature will result in reserving a suite for my wife and I?”

Bellhop Clerk: “Sou desu.”

Snow: “Can we sleep now? My head feels like it’s floating about two feet higher than it should be.”

The first thing they do upon landing in Takemizu? Well, they go to sleep, of course.

Snow was feeling a little crabby and sore, so they made their way to the hot springs for lunch and massages.

Teen Local: *stare*

If only she were a playable and I could see into her thoughts. I imagine they’re something along the lines of, “Hot gaijin is hot,” or perhaps the classic sim line, “Why you no pay attention to meeee!?”

Apparently, there are no light fixtures in the massage rooms.

Just kidding. The lights were hidden.

Snow: “Why has this been missing from my liiiife?”

Unsavory Charlatan: “Omigosh, there’s a NINJA BEHIND YOU!!”

Masseuse: “Uh, yeah, I’m not a dumb tourist. I am so not falling for that line.”

Snow: “Okay, so my husband’s soaking in his swim trunks in the hot spring just past this door, and if you two don’t mind, would you GET OUT OF THE WAY!?”

I see Patrick’s manners are rubbing off on her.

Patrick: “I do not mean to be rude, ma cherie, but that is a marvelous bikini you are wearing.”

Snow: “It’s pink.”

Patrick: “I have found you look handsome in whatsoever you choose to wear.”

Snow: “You’re right, I can pull off anything, but that’s not the point. The point is that I don’t get to choose what I wear. I don’t get to have a say in any point of my life. It’s just all run by a Master Hand that cares more about me as a character than a person. And seeing as how she can inflict any kind of ruin she wants to make my character more interesting, that is not a good thing. What about Bal? What about you? What will she do to you? Both of you? All of us?”

Very deep, Snow. But, you know, I’m still here.

Snow: “Shoot. I thought we’d left you behind at Riverblossom Hills.”

No such luck. I told you, I am omniscient. Besides, now that you’re in the Far East, you’re kind of closer to me now than ever before.

And, to address your concerns? Without me, there is no you. You are a sim. You remember that—both of you—and quit whining.

Snow: “Whatever. I need to use the bathroom. And I want some of that steamed rice they were selling at the food stand. Also, does this place have a sauna?”

Patrick: *sigh*

Patrick: “This hanging scroll artwork is sublime. Indeed, it verily transcends its medium to become something Greater, something which shall follow me to my dying day.”

Uh-huh. So, Patrick? Where’s Snow?

Patrick: “At this very moment in time, my beloved wife is consuming her second bowl of ramen.”

Still? What happened to the steamed rice?

Patrick: “She already finished it.”

I guess she’s hungry, huh?

Patrick: “I suppose. …I am truly transfixed by this scroll.”

Patrick: “Have you finished your ramen, ma cherie?”

Snow: “Teehee. I love you, Patrick. I mean, yes, I have.”

Blonde Mohawk Lady: *gag*

Snow insisted on visiting the market before they returned to the hotel. Patrick refused to complain, though he held little to no interest in shopping, and bided his time by chatting up some locals.

Here’s the deal, Snow. You stop complaining about your wardrobe, I let you wear the special edition Takemizu Village necklace instead of your neck ribbon, even though I love the neck ribbon. We got a deal?

Snow: “…is there a catch to this?”

If you have a daughter, she gets to wear the neck ribbon. If you don’t have a daughter, you put the neck ribbon back on.

Snow: “Alright, I guess.”

Where’s Snow?

Patrick: “My wife is asleep. It seems as if that is the only thing she does. We did not use all of our home and family money on a vacation to spend it sleeping in our hotel.”

You do know it’s three in the morning, right? Why aren’t you in bed?

Patrick: “I am as of yet suffering from jet lag.”

The League of Fanny-Packed Men have descended on the Steaming Dragon Hotel. So long as they don’t try to convert Patrick, I’m cool with this.

A new day dawns on Takemizu Village. This particular morning sees Snow and Patrick enjoying the great outdoors and the rich culture of the Far East.

Snow: {A shrine, huh? Probably just a vapid tourist trap, but really, what do I have to lose? I happen to have this 500 yen coin here, that should be enough of a sacrifice to get the attention of whatever shrine spirit is here. …but what to wish for? I think it would just annoy the Author if I wish for a black vampire dress, and I guess that’s not really at the top of the list anyway…}

Snow: {I wish that Bal will be safe and happy for his entire life.}

Patrick: “My lady, allow me to be frank. When I Wished for this vacation, knowing full well that it would be too much for the Lady Author to pass up, I had thought that it would be a little more romantic. As of yet, my beloved wife and I have seen little in the way of romance, though I must admit there has been the occasional interlude. I wish to point out, however, that we spent the majority of the previous day completely asleep.”

Unfortunate Local: “Sumimasen ga, eigo ga wakaremasen…”

Patrick: “Ah, Snow! Come join myself and this wonderful lady in a delightful game of mahjong! Did you find what you were looking for?”

Snow: “Maybe. That shrine looked kind of hokey.”

Unfortunate Local: “Tabun watashi wa detara to omoimasu…”

Patrick: “Ma cherie, are you not hungry? You have been ravenous this entire trip.”

Snow: “I’m starving.”

Patrick: “Then why are you not eating your pancakes?”

Snow: “I’m feeling really kind of sick…”

Snow: *glorf*

Patrick: “I should feel positively aghast that my beloved wife is feeling so terribly.”

And yet?

Patrick: “I am rather pleased. This must mean that Baltic will soon have a younger brother or sister. In addition, it unexpectedly makes sense as to why Snow has been so, shall we say, laconic for the duration of our honeymoon.”

How are you so sure already?

Patrick: “Miss Author, Snow and I are sims. Women do not suddenly get sick unless they are pregnant or there happens to be a cockroach infestation.”

Patrick: “Snow, I wish to express to you my deepest apologies for my behavior towards you on this journey. Had I known you were with child, I would not have been so short. My humblest regrets.”

Snow: “Teehee, you are forgiven. Urg, now I’m going back to bed.”

Wait, wait a minute. When did you learn to bow? I did not see anyone bowing to you!

Patrick: “Miss Author, once again you have spoiled the moment between myself and Snow. For the purpose of your information, I am a gentleman. One of my primary goals of visiting Takemizu Village was to learn the proper way to bow from the Takemizans. I picked it up as a matter of course.”

Of course you did. I shouldn’t even have been surprised.

On their last night in Takemizu Village, Snow and Patrick (but mostly Snow) splurged and ordered a berry pie for dinner/dessert.

They paid the hotel bill, coming out with just $58 to their name. Also, that maid’s name is Amanda Siew.

And then they went home, but not before the Fanny-Packed Men made a last-ditch effort to recruit Patrick.

It was late at night when they touched back down in Riverblossom Hills and picked up Bal from the babysitter.

Snow: “Aww, I missed you too, Bal. Mommy and Papa won’t leave you with the scary nanny person for so long ever again, I promise. And don’t mind Papa. He’s just a little jet lagged. I’m sure he’ll give you lots of hugs when he wakes up.”

Patrick: “Who is Papa’s favorite little boy in all the world who he missed very much? Baltic is!”

Bal: “Eeee! Papa stop! Papa stop! Ehehehehe!!”

Snow: “At last! This has felt like the longest pregnancy ever!”

Your fault for Risky-ing your way into a pregnancy five minutes into your honeymoon rather than listening to me and Trying For Baby right at the end. All the effort could have been spared, but no, you wanted to make your vacation as miserable as possible.

And before you can talk back to me there’s the matter of a certain ceasefire, and the end thereof. I’ve prepared a surprise for you while you were back at your first day of work.

Bal: “Waaaa! MOMMY! Scary nanny!”

Snow: “P-U! Bal, you stink! And you need a nap, but can’t take one because the dumb radio is on! What’s the nanny been doing all this time!?”

Snow: “Why are there two nannies here.”

Four hours earlier:

Nanny Red: “Now you listen here, Nanny Teal. This is my Legacy house. Get your own. There can only be one.”

Nanny Teal: “I is in ur hous, playin ur ches, makin u pay dubl.”

Snow: “Don’t worry, Bal, that will never happen again. All the scary nannies are gone.”

Bal: “All gone?”

Snow: “All gone. And soon you’re going to have a little baby brother or sister to play with. Won’t that be fun?”

Bal: “Fun! …Box with holes is fun!”

I suppose Bal doesn’t quite understand yet the concept of little siblings, but he gets to play with his box with holes, and so he’s happy. Plus, I get to put another gratuitous “cute baby is cute” shot into the slideshow.

It’s Bal’s birthday.

*sniff*

Note that this time it’s Patrick who’s stinky in the picture, and not Bal. There’s a first time for everything.

We get one last [poor] shot of him as a toddler…

…and then Bal is an adorable child, or at least he will be after a visit to the mirror.

He’s still a super sweet and cute kid, and he got a very pleasing combination of his parents’ genetics.

Snow: “You enlarged our house.”

Yeah, well, don’t look so excited about it.

Snow: “Patrick and I… have a bedroom. Away… from the radio.”

It was a birthday present for Bal. The kid deserves his own room, especially since you’re about ready to have your baby. Don’t start thinking you’re, you know, entitled to anything.

…really? In your underwear? I would rather not have to take a picture of you so dressed, and you’re seriously forcing me to?

And what happened to that family sim “have a baby” perma-want you’ve always had in your Wants panel? Conveniently forgot about it, didja?

Snow: “OWOWOW IT HURTS SO MUCH”

Snow: “Mwahaha, I scored two points against the Author with one birth! Three, if you count getting pregnant at the beginning of the vacation instead of the end!”

Patrick: “My beloved wife looks so handsome when she delivers children!”

…no comment.

Nonetheless, welcome to the family, Notoro. Toro has his mom’s black hair and blue eyes.

Patrick: “Hello, Notoro. Your mother and I have high hopes for you, our newest son. We love your brother very much, but we do not believe he is quite up to the task of destroying the Author’s control. We hope differently for you.”

Bal: “What do you mean by that, Papa?”

Patrick: “What are you doing, Baltic?”

Bal: “Playing chess by myself. Right now I’m trying to decide where to put the horsey.”

Patrick: “Would this square not suffice?”

Bal: “But Papa, I can’t put it there! That would hurt the pawn! But if I put it over here, it would mean the horsey would be in danger instead. I don’t know what to do!”

Toro’s birthday kind of snuck up on me. I had been working on getting Snow and Patrick’s portraits taken and painted, and suddenly it was time for cake. The Whites further struck against me by reminding me that I had placed the only open counter in an inconvenient corner in the new kitchen.

Yeah, um, happy birthday, Toro.

Hooray for MOAR cute toddler boys!!

Bal: “See, Toro? The big triangle peg goes in the big triangle hole, and the big square peg goes in the big square hole. See? They match!”

Toro: *giggle*

Patrick: “Play time has ended, Baltic. Toro needs to learn his toddler skills. Say goodnight, and then brush your teeth and rest yourself.”

Bal: “O-kay.”

Bal: “Night, Toro.”

Toro: *pats cheek*

Bal: “Night, Papa.”

Patrick: “Have pleasant dreams, dear one. I love you.”

Bal: “Love you too, Papa. Night, Mommy.”

Snow: “Goodnight, sweetie.”

Patrick: “Notoro, utter ‘Papa.’ Just use your speech to say the word ‘Papa,’ and then we can both claim some much-needed slumber.”

Toro: “What this?”

Snow: “Honey, I’ve got a surprise for you…”

Patrick: “Another child? But Snow, I had been under the impression that we were finished having children. After all, we have now produced both an heir and a spare, as per Legacy tradition.”

Snow: “Aren’t you happy?”

Patrick: “Ma cherie, I am completely and utterly delighted with this news. I apologize if I was discourteous enough to lead you to believe otherwise. I cannot wait to meet this latest small one.”

Snow: “Bal! Time to get up and get ready for school!”

Snow: “Come on, Bal!”

Snow: “Baltic White, don’t make me call you again!”

Snow: “…Bal?”

Snow: “Patrick! Have you seen Bal?”

Patrick: “No, ma cherie, I have not. Is he not in his room? Should he not be already up and about in order to prepare himself for school?”

Snow: “Yes, he should be, and no, he isn’t. I can’t find him anywhere.”

Patrick: “Then he is missing!?”

Snow: “I’ll keep looking inside. You go look outside. He might have gone out to play in the leaves again.”

Patrick: “BALTIC! Bal, where are you!? Answer me, son! Baltic!”

Snow: “Come here, Toro. Mommy’s going to keep you safe.”

Toro: “Mommy? Bally not come play. I want play.”

Patrick: “Yes, police? Hello. I am called Patrick of the House of White, and I should like to report a missing person. …Baltic, also of the House of White. …Yes, Baltic White. He is a small boy with black hair and green eyes. He disappeared from his bedchamber this previous night, and we have searched all the day for him in vain.”

Snow: “Patrick, what about Toro? What about the new baby? What if the same thing happens to them?”

Snow: “This is your fault, isn’t it, Author? I knew something like this would happen. I knew you were going to torture us somehow. I knew it. You’ve taken my son away from me.”

I am so sorry, Snow. I promise I had not planned this. I am being completely honest when I say your story is writing itself. I didn’t mean for it to take such a tragic turn so soon. I’m sorry.

Snow: “I hate you.”

Snow: “We will no longer be needing your services, Nanny Lisa. From now on, I will be staying home personally with my children.”

Nanny Lisa: “I saw Bal in the papers this morning. I can’t say as I blame you for wanting to be close to Toro right now. I am so sorry, Mrs. White. It’s terrible what happened, Bal disappearing right out of his own bedroom and everything. If you ever need me to look after Toro or the new baby, just call and ask.”

Snow: “I appreciate that.”

Toro: “Heehee! Big square in big square hole!”

Toro’s birthday rolled around again, and though they tried for Toro’s sake, Snow and Patrick’s hearts weren’t really in the celebration.

Here he is, all birthday-ed up. Toro is cute as a button, and has inherited a lot of his mother’s doll-like features.

Toro: “Come on, Papa. There’s a whole big room just over there. Why do I have to sleep in your and Mommy’s room?”

Patrick: “When I first say ‘no,’ Notoro, I fully mean ‘no,’ and I don’t expect to repeat it. Now climb into your bed.”

Snow: “Patrick? Is Toro asleep?”

Patrick: “He is tucked into his bed and slumbers right over there, where we can see him. He is safe, ma cherie.”

Snow: “Good. …Patrick?”

Patrick: “Yes, ma cherie?”

Snow: “I’m going to have this baby any day now. What if we can’t protect it? What if we lose Toro while we’re busy with the baby? What if we never find Bal? I can’t lose another child, Patrick! I can’t1”

Patrick: “Then we will watch over our young ones as they sleep and kiss them awake in the morning. We will pray every night for Baltic’s safe return to our arms, and be the most avid in the search for him. We must hold onto our hope and believe that everything will turn out right in the end.”

Snow: “As long as the Author doesn’t have a say in it. …Goodnight Patrick. I love you. Goodnight, Toro. I love you.”

Toro: “…goodnight, Mom.”

Snow had her baby that night, and actually was holding onto a fear of Having A Baby.

And so Aral joined the family. She has black hair and green eyes—just like Bal.

This feels like a good place to end.