#reyes.story.post

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏  𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞   |   VARIOUS LOCATIONS, DECEMBER 1990

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

‎‎‎‎‎ ❛ The banality of human tragedy wasn’t enough for a princess. Some may have said it was an insult. The publishers, insatiable in their hunger for a story, chased answers. They would force slippery, delicate reality into the shackles of narrative. They would explain the unexplainable. Numerous leads bubbled forth in the immediate days following the event. At first, they came as a respectful trickle of whispers. Then, they came in a loud burst that could fill the amorphous space between breaking news and solemn coverage of a state funeral. Most of the claims were false: the queen had held the gaze of an owl twenty days prior; a storm had thrown and scattered stones in an ominous glyph; waterway residents had heard plaintive weeping from the water before the disappearance; a daykeeper sent a letter to the palace warning the mountains were shaking with longing; the princess was terrified of water and had diligently avoided it before this fateful outing. The latter was true.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

It wasn’t moving water that paralyzed her. She had appreciated the crashing of beach waves and the foaming, rushing flow of rivers. The waterfalls in Yaas had captivated her. The problem was still water. Placid and smooth, the expanses of lakes and ponds and swimming pools unsettled her to the core. Others saw them as gentle and inviting; these comely traits, to her, were the duplicity inherent to any natural danger.

As with many fears, this one had been formative. These bodies summoned memories of gasping and flailing—a visceral recollection of the moment in which her swimming education both began and ended. The publishers would report that she refused to bathe in tubs or put her face beneath a shower head. These details were embellishments, but they knitted together the perfect narrative to rendered the death star-crossed, inevitable, and shadowing even in the unobstructed light of day. With such winking glints of absurdity, a deluge of articles teased intrigue from something utterly ordinary.

Indeed, that was the wretched truth with which the family had to contend, even as days of newsprint consoled the public with fantasy. Once the body was recovered a few hours later, the coroner called it what her fellow passengers had assumed: an accident. People drowned in Uspana every day. Such a demise was considered divinely favored, and the context—the story that underwrote it—didn’t matter. The mountains claimed their favorites regardless of whether their lungs filled with a few inches of bathwater or deep inhales of Canarís Bay saltwater. These favorites were regular people. They were also, from time to time, royalty.

The cause was misadventure, not malevolence.

Still, when Beatriz stumbled over to the telephone on the day she received the news, she took a deep breath to steady herself and said with conviction, “Arnaut, he's finally killed her. Please come home.”

TRANSCRIPT:

[A] Boating? Seriously? [S] New yacht, too. He named it the Safyanora. Sweet, isn't it?

[A] I just can't believe he convinced you to go on it. [S] Me either.

[S] We've been giving each other space for a few weeks. [A] Is that what you call it?

[S] I should put in effort, you know? Be forgiving. [A] You do. You are. The problem is when he takes advantage of it, which is every single time.

[S] Friends will be there with us. There'll be no fighting—not the terribly unfun kind, anyway. [A] {Sighs.}

[A] And you're still not wearing the ring?

[S] For now. We'll see how I feel after this trip. [A] Uh huh.

[S] He promised a romantic getaway! Maybe that's what I need. [A] It's true. You work too much.

[S] No, you don't work enough—[A] Hold on. Someone's here.

[S] I can let you go … I do have work to do. [A] {Chuckling.}

[A] Abelina, tell Auntie hello. [AB] Hi Safy! [S] Hello, baby girl.

[A] It's bedtime story o'clock, unfortunately. [S] I'll call you when I'm home in a few days. [A] Good. I love you. Have fun. [S] I love you, too. Goodnight.

[S] {V.O.} Hi Mama. Sorry I missed you.

[S] {V.O.} We arrived in Intizara a couple days ago. There were more cameras than usual. It was disconcerting.

[S] {V.O.} Anyway, I'm calling you from the water.

[S] {V.O.} Aren't you proud of me? {Chuckles.}

[S] {V.O.} Manuel and Eita are with us.

[S] {V.O.} We're having fun, all of us.

[S] {V.O.} I needed this.

[S] {V.O.} We needed this.

[S] {V.O.} I know you don't want to hear it, but he's making an effort.

[S] {V.O.} I feel hopeful. Call me back. I love you.

[B] {V.O.} This is not a message for voicemail.

[B] {V.O.} I wish you had come to the phone just this once.

[B] {V.O.} How do I say this? It's unspeakable.

[B] {V.O.} {Sighs.}

[B] {V.O.} Arnaut, he's finally killed her.

[B] {V.O.} Please come home.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟖: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   ELDWINE  &  MATLAL HOUSE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Alfonso makes a call to his father-in-law while Rowena is away with Zuriñe. Neither of them having particularly good news—or many answers.

TRANSCRIPT:

{Telephone ringing.}

[C] I apologize for missing your call earlier.

[A] No bother. The time difference is tricky. Thank you for returning it. [C] What do you need, son? Never a social call—not that I mind.

[A] I need you to put my mind at ease. It has to do with business, so I understand you may feel the need to be circumspect. Still, you must understand the situation here, and the ... unique pressure Rowena feels.

[C] I don’t know that I can be of much use. I get the dailies from Uspana, so I believe we’re on the same page, but I am not involved.

[A] If there is anything occurring, even under the table, I need to know. It will come out eventually. That is how things work here—these things especially. [C] So cryptic, so ominous! I am no politician, but I know plenty of them. You all aren’t very good at this under-the-table business, so I steer clear of it.

[A] What about your associates? [C] Ah ... I can’t speak to that. They ask me questions, and I tell them, “Pal, I don’t talk business with daughter or her husband.” True enough? [A] I suppose. And my father? [C] Fernando is not as good at returning calls, I hear.

[C] Did Rowena ask you to do this, son? Her skin is thick as paper, but she’s a big girl. Don’t let her fool you. She’s never cared for anyone’s opinion. [A] I called of my own accord, but ... sure.

[C] There is something I should mention. You mustn’t tell Rowena yet, but I need to tell you while we’re speaking. You can prepare yourself.

[C] It’s Susannah. Her health is ... [Sighs.] Bleak. You may recall the pneumonia she had last winter. It’s been downhill since.

[C] We don’t have a timeline, but I can assure you that I have thought little of business these last several weeks. May as well retire at this rate.

[A] I understand. You have my empathy. [C] Age comes for all of us. But ... Rowena can’t know. Not yet. [A] Do you not think it would be easier to— [C] No. When the time is right, I will tell her. After Alistair ... None of this will be easy, for her least of all. She’s still but a girl in her own mind.

[A] I will respect your wishes, then. [C] Good. I have to go. Goodbye for now, son.

{Coleridge sniffles.}

{Knocking.} [B] Papa? Tomás needs a bandage!

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟗: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   JÁUREGUI ESTATE, AMATL, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Jáuregui Estate stood in the rolling hills of Amatl, high above a rich valley that slept beneath a blanket of snow this time of year. Rowena always found the landscapes of Uspana marvelous. Zuriñe seemed at home in all of them: the humidity of Yaas which made the hair at her temples curl; Nakawe’s sunshine in which she sweltered with elegance; and now, the temperate forests she actually considered home. Rowena could appreciate the significance of being here with her. She recognized it as among the moments of fleeting intimacy Zuriñe had allowed over the years. Once, it had struck her as ironic and even unkind to hear the queen call her ‘daughter’ and count her alongside someone like Ander (who, everyone knew, had truly earned his place). Rowena liked to think she understood the uneasy comfort of Zuriñe’s mothering better these days.

❧ ft. vivian & claudette from @thegrimalldis​ ♥️ i ... freestyled their meet-cute :^)

TRANSCRIPT:

[Z] It never snows like this in Nakawe.

[Z] This is what I am built for, but one learns to adapt. [R] It snows like this back home—in Eldwine, at the Big House.

[Z] Ah, I recall: your childhood home. How quaint that you call it that. I cannot imagine you ever planned to be so far from it.

[Z] For some of us, that is our lot in life. We are not the keepers of the place where our ancestors rest; we go elsewhere and make new homes.

[Z] It brings me such joy, still, to be here. My heart sings. [R] I can almost hear it. It’s so quiet out here. {Zuriñe chuckles.}

[R] I know you don’t visit often. Is it hard, even after all these years? [Z] Yes and no. My heart is no longer here. It lives in Nakawe these days. But, the sweetest memories dwell here still.

[R] Sweetest? As in better? [Z] I am getting too old to not long for my girlhood, Rowena. Sweet is not filling, but the idea of it tantalizes more than dreaming of roast when one is already so full. Only people who are starving disagree.

[Z] You should not think poorly of yourself if you feel that way, too. [R] I do, sometimes.

[Z] I was your age once. My children grew, and I became ravenous. [R] I don’t know if I want that. Maybe it would help.

[Z] You may be satiated for years yet. Tomás can barely walk. Now, speaking of food and hunger, I suspect dinner is ready. [R] If it’s alright, I think I’ll stand here a minute longer.

[Z] Talk to Her, if you wish.

[R]  I couldn’t be further from ravenous, in truth.

[V] You tell it better than Bruno does, Zuri. [Z] Bruno was too starstruck to remember the details.

[Z] Vivian came rolling down the hill like a damsel in distress, Bruno saved her from a villainous pine tree, and the rest is history. [R] How romantic!

[R] What is love at first sight without a little danger? [V] That is exactly what it was. My hero! Zuriñe was laughing at me, as I recall it, but I loved her soon enough, too.

[Z] Souls speak to each other sometimes. I know it when I see it. Vivian was family the moment Bruno helped her to her feet. [V] See? Zuriñe is a poet—and that is why she tells it better.

[B] Time for dessert. We can entertain Rowena with more reminiscing in the other room. I shall go rush the staff, so we can also treat her to the finest roasted coffee in all of Uspana.

[V] This one is from ... 1876 or 1877? Bruno was a precious baby.

[R] Oh, and that must be your daughter! I remember her face. [V] The Creator’s gift to us: my Claudette! [R] She’s beautiful. [V] I believe Zuriñe gifted her that piece. She adores her niece.

[B] She wanted Rowena to see your baby portrait, but it is missing. [Z] I have it. No one needs to know I was ever an infant.

[R] What a lovely bride you were! [V] The photographer was cross with us because we were so giddy. We giggled the entire time! [R] It does feel like a grand dream, doesn’t it, the wedding day?

[R] And these women? They look very grand themselves. [V] Ah, yes—the Armendáriz matriarchs.

[V] Bruno and Zuriñe’s mother is to the right. Citlalli. She wanted Zuriñe to marry Fernando, so Bruno and I inherited the estate in her stead. [R] Who inherits next if Claudette is also a queen? [V] Any of her daughters will belong to Monaca... Perhaps a cousin?

[V] Bruno and Zuriñe’s mother is to the right. Citlalli. She wanted Zuriñe to marry Fernando, so Bruno and I inherited the estate in her stead. [R] Who inherits next if Claudette is also a queen? [V] If any of her daughters will belong to Monaca... Perhaps a cousin?

[Z] She is quite the tour guide. [B] Always has been. Sentimental people tend to be.

[V] Zuriñe, I am going to show Rowena the new photographs of Nicholas. [R] Will you join us?

[B] Those you mailed her? I bet she would love to see them again.

{Quiet, indistinct radio music; Rowena humming.}

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟒: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   NAKAWE PALACE, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

For his entire life, Alfonso had been his mother’s son. She raised him the way the Armendárizes raised their children: beneath the wing of one’s mother, and her mother, and her mother before that. This was a Reyes trait, too, but Zuriñe descended from explicit matriarchy. The possessiveness over her firstborn had done little to strain his relationship with his father, however. Fernando’s strengths and failings as a parent were the inverse of his wife’s; he was a playful, easygoing, and accepting parent. It helped that Alfonso happened to be perfect. Whether he was truly perfect did not matter so much as the impression he had maintained for nearly fifty years. Family and strangers alike knew Alfonso to be reliable and dutiful. Fernando could look to his heir, feeling comfortable and prideful, and with the same gaze appraise him to be the model son. Indeed, Velasco was another matter, although Fernando’s indifference toward him had nothing to do with his status as spare. 

A strain now emerges upon the relationship between Alfonso and his father. With both hands, they each attempt to stifle and strangle the fitful discord which has taken root between them in recent years. The disagreement is, at its core, one between a king and his heir. It has little to do with politics and everything to do with principle. The last such divide had opened like a fracture in the earth—small at first, a curiosity to pass with caution, until it became a city-swallowing chasm. It closed only with the roll of a head, which Fernando had commanded while Alfonso watched with his mother’s right hand weighing heavy on his shoulder.

TRANSCRIPT:

[F] Alfonso! Working late?

[A] In a sense. I want to ask about your visitor logs. [F] What of them? [A] I gave them a look today.

[F] You could have asked me about visitors. [A] I have. There are gaps in them, you know. The logs. [F] Secretaries do make errors. [A] Not these kind. Not without direction.

[F] Reticence does not suit you, son. Speak your mind.

[A] I do not wish to believe you are hiding anything or, even now, to imply you could be capable of something inappropriate. But, there are so many questions being asked all around us. I thought, “We should know the answers.” All I have found so far are still more questions.

[F] What do you want me to say? My business is not your concern. And—before you default to it—the business of the Crown is my business. Enjoy these years before it becomes yours; why create problems where none exist?

[A] I need to know. [F] What? Know what? [A] Is there truth to it—about Rique, the land sales... The Bancrofts?

[F] I think you want me to say yes. [A] I want nothing less. [F] “The most earnest lie with the most ease.”

[A] I want to be assured they are liars, father. You behave in these furtive ways, associate with fraudsters then strike them from the logs, now— [F] Bah! Lecturing? There is no illegality, and your criticism—

[A] For years, I have asked only for transparency. [F] Do not interrupt me. [A] You are being dismiss—

[F] DO NOT INTERRUPT ME! [A] Father ... [F] You come here to doubt me? To impugn my character?

[A] It has nothing to do with that! Nothing! It is the politics of it! [F] I am the politics, Alfonso. I am king; my actions are my own. If you call them corrupt and fraudulent, then you name me these things.

[A] The Crown is meant to be above politics. [F] Lie to yourself, go ahead! The Crown is what a king commands it to be—that is the law of the People, not some constitution. [A] This is a reckless path, father. [F] Come now. You are not stupid, Alfonso. Only weak.

[A] Weak? I have carried Uspana on my back for a decade! [F] With what? Speeches! Handshakes! Playing the part of a workdog for politicians who despise you?! [A] And what have you done but hide from reporters and lie to us all!

[A] Your subjects are coming to distrust you, father— [F] Distrust? Ah! Yes, good, attack me again! [A] You will not do you job! WHY DO YOU CARE SO LITTLE!

[F] Enough.

[F] I called you to Nakawe to serve the Crown, not to undermine me.

[F] Your mother suggested I bring you from Canarís. I was proud to do so. I wish we had known that you would come here and allow Xochitl Vidal and her ilk to poison your mind. Our intelligent, honorable son... So easily manipulated by our family’s gravest enemies.

[A] Father, I ... [F] GET OUT!

[F] I brought you to my side. Do not forget: I can cast you away.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟐𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   THE BERMET-PERLA HOTEL, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Back in Nakawe, Rowena returns to her primary occupation as of late: planning a grand social event to set the tone for 1936.

TRANSCRIPT:

{Rowena laughing.}

[??] There’s still work to be done, but it is coming along.

[R] It looks fabulous, Sylvester. I knew bringing you here was worth it. [M] Did you replace the piano, too? [S] The good folks at the Bermet-Perla have been quite  indulgent.

[M] I suppose they decline to replace the wallpaper. [R] These are murals, Merce! The theme is whatever I want it to be; we shall simply dance the night away in a rococo jungle.

[S] So, that accounts for the basics. Have a look around, and anything that isn’t yet up to snuff can and will be righted immediately.

[M] I would like to chat with him about Maria’s birthday party. I’ll join you on your tour in a few minutes. [R] If anyone can make a children’s affair elegant, it would be him.

[R] {to a mover} Yoo-hoo! Sir! Let me see inside that... [M] Now, is it possible to convince a venue to replace their murals because—

[M] Rowena, some news!

[R] About what? [M] The budget. Sylvester mentioned the crystal sets you wanted have proved both difficult to acquire and expensive.

[R] As it should be. What’s the problem? We need the dinnerware and the serveware to match, and the hotel’s sets are terribly unfashionable.

[M] And the cost? He said we’re already over budget. [R] This is why I have a personal account, Merce. Tell him to charge it. This must be the event of the year. Can’t I have fun without overcomplicating matters and embarrassing myself?

[M] {chuckles} That’s the spirit! I’m sure he will be judicious. [R] I trust him, yes. In any case, I cannot have a repeat of last year’s New Year fiasco. The Eldwine papers talked about that hideous, cheap fireworks display well into the month of March!

[M] Where are you going? [R] To make myself a drink. A Manhattan for you, too?

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟕: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   AMATL CHILDREN’S HOME, AMATL, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

In Amatl, Rowena joins Zuriñe on a visit to the children’s orphanage.

TRANSCRIPT:

[R] It’s a marvelous building, Zuriñe. And the location! [Z] The city offered it some years ago for a fair price: free.

[J] My queen, hello! Welcome!

[R] {whispering, to Aziza} A hug? [A] Old friends.

{Children talking, laughter.}

[Z] And you, Felipe, have you been behaving? [F] Maybe... {Laughter and dissent from other children.}

[Z] Did they tell you about the performance they have prepared?

{Instrumental plays off-stage.}

[Z] Beautiful!

{Zuriñe, Rowena, and staff applauding.}

[J] Thank you for cooking dinner. [Z] Of course. They look forward to it, although I could not say why.

[J] It is a special occasion, and how better to celebrate than with warm soup we have only with you? We all can taste the love.   [Z] Rowena—I made it for you years ago, in Yaas. Did you notice?

[R] I thought it was familiar. [Z] A soup for special occasions indeed.

[R] How long are the here? The children.

[J] It depends. These are hard years for growing families.

[R] Are they adopted often, in better years? [Z] Families inquire. Less follow through. One this year, however, Judith?

[R] Goodness! Why not? Every one I’ve met, I’ve wanted to take home. [J] They hide it well, but this place is for children who have endured too much. Rearing a child is challenging even if they arrive undisturbed.

[Z] I have always felt responsible for them. The first orphans, in fact, were orphaned by the Crown. Of course, Judith does what I cannot. Manola, now, too. [M] We just want this to be their home, if it has to be.

[J] The princess is more playful than she lets on, isn’t she? [Z] Rowena has a way with children—mainly, they have much in common. [M] {chuckles} That sounds like a blessing to me.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   MATLAL ESTATE, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Beatriz’s friendship with the boy down the hill flourished after their colorful meeting. With it came a new air of enthusiasm. While her parents chalked it up to an unexpected adjustment to school life, Beatriz thought little of the place when she left its grounds. She had made “friends” there—that’s what they would call themselves, anyway—but they, too, left her mind the moment their faces faded from view. Salvatore was her friend, she decided. They ran and shouted, shoved and bickered, whispered and sat shoulder to shoulder. Being with him was what they had told her being with Tomás would be like someday. 

When the sun was bright and their clothes were dirty, they would collapsed in the shade and wondered aloud about the kind of nonsense children understand best. Only, Beatriz felt her nonsense was not that of the average child; Sal confirmed this to her often. It was one of the reasons she liked him. He was, however, odd and unpredictable in his own way. Despite not knowing how to read, he refused with confidence all of Beatriz’s offers to teach him. He knew a great deal about distant places but had never even left Nakawe. He told small lies to see her reaction—then, as they parted ways, would admit the falsehoods with a forgivable grin. He was also astoundingly ignorant of the foundations that underpinned her entire existence. 

This, Beatriz liked best of all. 

The blasé approach made her wonder: who was Sal when he faded from view?

TRANSCRIPT:

{Tomás fussing. Beatriz snickering.}

[B] Can I go down the hill for a while?

[A] Right now? We are having breakfast. [B] I’m finished. [A] We were going to do some gardening after, if you recall.

[B] Well, I ... [A] You spend too much time alone, Beatriz. Family time matters.

[R] Oh, don’t be so serious. If Birdie wants to enjoy the nice weather her way, that should be fine and well. She can still have lunch with us later.

[A] Will you be back by noon, then? And, no grass stains.

[B] I don’t roll around in the grass like a baby. I plan on reading.

{Laughter.}

[S] Kick it already!

[S] Whoa! [B] Be careful what you wish for!

[S] I’m just saying: I don’t think you’re supposed to shove toddlers. [B] It was a gentle tap! Not my fault he fell over.

[B] Do you ever wish you had siblings? [S] All the time. I want a dozen kids, so they can always play together. [B] Not me. One to be my heir and that’s all. Kids are gross.

[S] Oh... [B] What is it? [S] My father is here.

[B] Can I say hello? [S] {to himself} Why is he here ... ?

[S] Just let me talk to him, okay? [B] Alright ...

[MO] Salvatore. What are you doing here?

[S] We were playing. [MO] You had chores to do. They aren’t finished.

[S] I was going to finish them before you came back from town. You said you would be home at noon, so I—

[MO] I never gave you permission to leave the house.

[S] I’m sorry! I wanted to play with Beatriz. It’s Saturday; we play here, and— [MO] Beatriz ... Ah.

[B] Salvatore is my friend, sir. I asked him to play today.

[MO] I apologize, princess, but Salvatore has work to do.

[MO] We do not have the luxury of weekends. He knows that.

[MO] Tell the princess goodbye, and let’s go. [B] Bye.

[B] When can we play again, Sal? [MO] Hurry up, Salvatore. There are chickens in the truck.

[B] Hmph.

[B] {writing} “Every father I meet is worse than my papa. How did I get so lucky? I’m glad I only share him with Tomás.”

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟓: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   MATLAL VILLAGE, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

For several weeks, Beatriz had not seen Salvatore. It produced a strange disappointment, one simultaneously sudden and creeping. Enthusiasm built up as each lazy afternoon and bright Saturday morning approached; she hurried down the hill in hopes of finding her friend awaiting, but she also came to realize those hopes were fading. In their place was something akin to fear—worry, anxiety, dreadful agitation—which gripped her as she walked the dirt road into this beloved low, green place. Since their move to the estate, Beatriz had relished the sight of its emptiness. That emptiness now came to feel more like loneliness. For someone who had never conceived of being alone as a disquieting experience (at least, not since her baby days), this new sense was troubling. What troubled her more was the fact that she had seemingly lost grip of, not only a friend, but the pleasure of her own company. ‘They were right,’ she thought these days as she sat in the grass, the wind ruffling her hair, left with one remaining confidante—a diary—in her lap. The faces of her parents personified the chiding in her mind. ‘Kids are supposed to have friends. You spend too much time alone.’ Mixed emotions churred in her, and she lacked the capacity to understand or resolve them. She simply longed for the comfort of detachment. These contradictory longings, for friendship and for having never known it at all, were bitter and little sweet. It was for the best, ultimately, when she did see Salvatore again.

If she must feel so strongly, then she would rather the hurt feelings smolder into resentment.

TRANSCRIPT:

[B] Can we buy some candies?

[R] If you won’t tell your papa about it.

[B] Can we buy them first? [R] Let’s take our time and wander. Who knows what we’ll find!

[B] It’s the same every weekend, mother. [R] {Chuckles.} That’s because you only pay attention to the candy.

[R] Even the winter produce is delightful, and the knitting—! A new scarf for me, and a bag of candy for you, how’s that?

[R] Or, some of this stinky fish for you instead? {Beatriz, pretending to gag.} [R] The melodrama!

[B] Sal ...?

[B] Sal! [R] Beatriz! Where are you going?

[B] Sal, wait!

[S] Hi, Bea. [B] Sorry for chasing you. [S] It’s okay.

[B] I missed you! I’m glad you’re here. [S] Yeah ... Sorry. [B] It’s okay.

[B] When can we play again? It’s been weeks! [S] I’ve been busy—with my father and all. [B] Oh. I remember.

[B] But, soon, right? [S] I don’t know, Bea.

[B] I just have fun with you, is all, but I can wait. [S] No. It’s more complicated. [B] How do you mean?

[S] {Sighs.} I can’t play with you anymore. I’m not allowed to. [B] What? Don’t say that.

[S] I’m sorry. My father... I just can’t play with you. [B] How busy could you be? You’re a kid. Maybe I could ask him? [S] No! I mean, that would be a bad idea.

[B] I don’t understand. [S] We can’t be friends, Bea. [B] Why not? We are friends!

[S] My father said ... I can’t be friends with someone like you. [B] Someone like me? [S] A princess. A Reyes. It’s not “appropriate.” I don’t know why.

[S] Wait, Bea—

[B] Don’t touch me.

[B] I’m a princess, not your friend, remember?

[R] What happened? Who is that boy? Beatriz!

[R] Do you want to talk about it, birdie?

{Beatriz grumbles.}

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟐𝟎: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   MATLAL HOUSE, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

An opportunity to ease her mind presented itself, and Beatriz posed a question to her father. She had stewed long enough in the unhappy emotions Sal’s parting words had created. The offense and indignation evaporated and, beneath it, she felt only hurt and confused. Everything she had been taught suggested Sal—or his father, the real antagonist—was simply mistaken. If anyone could set things right, it would be her father. 

TRANSCRIPT:

{Beatriz mumbling.}

[A] What are you doing, little bird? Go back to sleep. [B] I wasn’t asleep...

[A] Let me tuck you in. You have school in the morning. [B] Tomorrow is Saturday. [A] {Laughs.} Good try, but it will be Tuesday. You must sleep now.

[B] Can I ask you a question first? It’s serious but not real. [A] Ah...? Fine, you may. Then, sleep.

[B] What if I had a friend who was a peasant? Would that be okay? [A] First, we do not call them that anymore. Why?

[B] My classmates are not as bad as I thought, but I feel like I would get along better with someone who was ... one of those. Not like them. And, different from me.

[A] Different in what way? [B] I don’t know... A real person. More real than we are. {Alfonso hums.}

[B] You always talk about the People, papa. They’re more important than we are, aren’t they? We’re supposed to love them? Can they love us, too? [A] Clever, Beatriz. Their esteem is precious, yes.

[B] If you think about it, we could take care of them better if some were our friends. Not just our maids or people like Aziza. True friends. Is that okay? [A] I am proud of you, today and every day.

[A] That is a mature and compassionate thought. We should wish to know any of the Crown’s subjects in that way—not just those bearing titles of nobility. It is why we shop in the market, but that is an empty gesture compared to friendship. [B] So, we can be friends? We could be. [A] Your company has no more intrinsic value than theirs.

[B] Thank you! [A] I must ask: have you made a new friend somehow? [B] I wish.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟑 (𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓.): 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   THE BRASS LAMP, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Rowena shares gossip about the overheard rumors during dinner. She regrets it as she speaks, seeing Alfonso’s familiar expression of concern take shape with each word. He always intends for the vast expanse of his patience to be a security blanket—warm, wide as the day is long, worn enough to be comfortable. Usually, she appreciates it. Who, in a world of judgement and revulsion, would not wish to be swaddled in gentle acceptance? Other times, Rowena fears she may lose herself in it—if, that is, she never resists the urge burrow herself to the point of suffocation. Alfonso claims that loving her is not enough, and she suspects he misunderstands what truth underlies that statement. “It’s everything,” she retorts each time. Sometimes, she suspects she also misunderstands the truth of her own words.

TRANSCRIPT:

{Chatter, clinking dinnerware, music.}

[R] I wanted to mention something to you. It’s sensitive.

[R] I want honesty, not kid gloves.

[R] I overheard a couple of representatives discussing my family, out in the open, in a very disparaging manner, and— [A] Rowena...

[R] Let me finish. [A] Fine. Continue.

[R] My father is a big boy. He can handle himself. But, I need to know if there is something I can do about all of this. To help. [A] What does that mean?

[R] I have a responsibility to both of my families, Alfonso. I despise feeling like I have nothing to offer either but shame!

[A] How would meddling in your father’s business help people believe you are not, in fact, meddling in your father’s business? [R] That is unfair.

[A] Is it? We have had this conversation already, many times. Your trainer has had this conversation with you. Mama, even, has tried. It does no good for us to acknowledge chaos that is not happening—to add more fuel to a fire that must burn itself out, in a sense.

[R] And, if it doesn’t? If it rages? If others—say, old men in cheap ill-fitting suits—add fuel all by themselves while we stand idly by?

[R] Shouldn’t we douse it with water? Isn’t that what your mama would do? Suffocate it with something before it chokes her first?

[R] I know what she does. I may not be smart enough to do it myself, but I can follow instructions—and use metaphors.

[R] However, if it’s about trust, then that’s another matter. [A] It has nothing to do with that.

[R] I feel like a child, Alfonso. A baby who must be shielded, always. I feel so ignorant of everything that happens in this family. [A] There it is.

[R] Must I feel bad for feeling, too? [A] No one tells me about these things either, Rowena.

[R] Is that so? You say that, but how can I believe it? [A] {Sighs.} Yes, exactly: what would make you believe me? Your ... paranoia or anxiety about this—about these things—is not reality, dove.

[R] It lives under my skin, though. [A] I know.

[R] Well, that scratched the itch of it for now. {Chuckles.} I just feel like I have to remind you, sometimes, that I can handle things.

[A] Oh? [R] Anything. I can handle anything!

[A] That, I know well. Now our fellow patrons do, too.

[R] {Laughs.} So they do! A bit of misbehaving is alright.

[A] I love you. It is not enough, but it is something. [R] It’s everything. Shall we go have dessert?

[A] Do you recall who they were, those representatives? [R] That? Oh, let me put it aside now. I will, I promise.

[A] No, the gossip bothered you. I want to at least look into it. [R] Ask mama to? A scheme, to put our minds at ease? [A] We should learn to do it ourselves sometime, should we not?

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟑: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   NAKAWE PALACE, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Land, a simple four letter word, looms large in Rowena’s mind when she enters Nakawe Palace. The massive complex thrums with the activity of statecraft—being, as it is, alive with hundreds of legislators and administrators and aides keeping Uspana itself animated. Though one of the regal edifices lining Nakawe’s waterfront, its elegant outside conceals an interior maze of offices and chambers. However, it is not the physical land of the palace which tends to concern her. Instead, it’s parcels of land in far-flung parts of the country—those which everyone inside seems to whisper about incessantly. 

In Uspana, land means something the way flesh means something. “It is part of us,” Zuriñe told her once. Fistfuls of rich soil had blackened her hands as she spoke. Where had they stood that day? It was somewhere pastoral, she recalled. Rowena asked who she counted among ‘us,’ but Zuriñe only laughed like a barking dog as she walked away. Rowena understood, in truth, better than the ignorance she liked to wear would indicate. She had been to the sacred places, ones in Uspana but also back home. How many times had her father taken her upstate, turned to her, and remarked, “See, they took it from us, but what we did was take it back!” Those memories resonated far more with her these days.

As whispers suggest a great and ugly taking to be now underway in Uspana, Rowena wonders if the actual problem for these wrinkled men with gravelly voices is that they are not the ones leading the charge.

TRANSCRIPT:

{Indistinct conversations.}

[?] ... the Bancrofts, is what I meant to say. I think that ...

[R] Again?

[?] You agree, do you not? It’s a horrible mess. [?] Without a doubt. I would be more cautious either way, but something about foreign money and royal connections simply ... stinks.

[?] Rotten business, yes. One does not need to see it to know. [?] Precisely. I heard from someone in the administration that ...

[?] That is just about the permits! Little wonder why the voters gave Rique the boot and veered left. Preventable. [?] They are all hemorrhaging credibility now. Everyone knows Melchor was just waiting for the opportunity to be corrupted.

[?] Fernando made it easy for him. [?] Well, only with Alfonso’s help. {Both laugh.}

[?] Lunch on the patio? [R] {Huffs.}

[R] What’s bothering you, lover?

[A] Speech-writing. For that public address next week. [R] Oh, I thought you all had people for that. Have you tried using the typewriter? Or, perhaps, a pen?

[A] I do not have a chuckle for you today, unfortunately. [R] Pooh. Defeated by some empty pages, are we?

[A] This is serious. [R] I am being serious. Everyone listens when you speak because it invariably comes from your heart. The heart always says the right thing, if you let it. Yours, especially.

[A] Good advice. [R] I can’t seem to figure out how to use it, so you might as well have it.

[R] Now, hands off, we’re late for dinner!

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   ASSEMBLY OF USPANA, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Alfonso and Fernando attend the legislature’s final meeting of the season at the request of the new premier. Xochitl Vidal’s path to the country’s highest elected office has been equal parts confounding and complex. Her triumph, ultimately, was made possibly only by the messy aftermath of the previous premier’s highly public murder. Now, she takes advantage of the privileges—among them, disagreeing with the Crown to its very human face.  

TRANSCRIPT:

{Premier Vidal speaking.}

[F] I should have let you attend alone.

[A] Should we not always honor the premier’s invitations? [F] There should be a boredom exception.

[X] That concludes our fall session. We shall reconvene at the start of the new year. I encourage you to conduct town halls on this topic during the recess. Nothing is more persuasive than Uspanians themselves.

{Applause.}

[X] Thank you.

[F] We certainly do not have to honor her desire for adulation.

[X] My king. My prince. Thank you for attending today.

[F] It remains unclear to me why you insisted, but who does not like to spend their afternoon listening to politicians talk?

[X] Respectfully, the reason would have been apparent if you were listening. [F] Is that so?

[F] You have been trying to make an issue of these land permits for years. Another speech where you repeat the same tired lies? [X] I was quoting a report.

[X] | People in Nakawe may not care, but the deaths and riots are real. Given the depression’s effects, this can be a powerful issue. Injustice matters.

[F] {Scoffs.} Injustice? This has nothing to do with morality. People of means want to make use of Uspana’s land and are willing to pay for it. We should be grateful to have any development ongoing in such dire times.

[X] Some believe you cannot put a price on our land. They feel it in their bones, the same way they feel hunger in their stomachs. [F] Then solve that problem first, Madame Premier.

[X] Are you worried? [A] About? [X] His lack of worry.

[A] You and I may meet later this week to discuss the issue.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟔: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Each year, Mafalda accompanied Zuriñe westward to the bucolic province where the queen’s chief patronage was located.  Zuriñe worked the hardest of every family member not engaged in civil service, though she did that informally as well. She had chosen or inherited patronages close to Nakawe, but an orphanage in Amatl sat closest to heart despite its distance. Rowena learned from Alfonso that she had once visited monthly for years, spending a weekend working alongside its matrons. A health scare, whose details he left vague, had put a stop to her ambitious traveling habits. Still, she visited at least annually. It was no love of orphans that made Mafalda accompany her—and she had announced she would not take the patronage when Zuriñe became an ancestor—but it had once meant seeing her favorite cousin. After they spent the week playing with children, washing laundry, shoveling snow, cooking dinner, and reading bedtime stories, the pair would traveled up to the Jáuregui Estate which the Armendárizes had called home for millennia. 

This year, Rowena had the opportunity to see it for the first time while Mafalda stayed in the capital with her children, who had fallen under the weather at an inopportune time.

TRANSCRIPT:

[B] Mother Zuriñe! Look!

{Beatriz yelps.} [Z] BEATRIZ!

[B] It stings. [Z] I told you not to climb that wall. Was it worth it? [B] I haven’t decided yet... [Z] {Laughs.} Prideful girl.

[B] It was fun until I hit the ground. [Z] Remember that, little bird. You will never not hit the ground—no matter how high the jump, no matter how much fun the leap.

[R] Beatriz! Is she okay, Zuriñe? [Z] Bleeding stops in time. We bandaged her knee; all is well.

[Z] Beatriz, no more playing in the courtyard today. Why not go find your grandfather and sit a while? {Beatriz mutters.} [Z] I wanted to discuss something with you, Rowena. Walk with me? [R] Oh... Alright, as you wish.

A DAY LATER, MATLAL HOUSE.

[R] We’re back, lover.

[A] Did you have a pleasant time? [R] I don’t understand why she asks me to stay with them, and I invariably miss our bed, but... Of course.

[R] She asked something else of me, too, yesterday. [A] Uh oh. [R] A good something! I believe so, anyway.

{Rowena and Alfonso laughing.}

[R] Now, I’ve said enough about Birdie’s misadventures. Do you think it’s a good idea—going with your mother, that is? I have only been to Amatl once before, and I haven’t seen your aunt and uncle since the wedding.

[A] I am glad she asked you to accompany her. Mafalda always enjoys the visit. You will like Aunt Vivian, I think. [R] She was lovely when I met her!

[A] It may be nice as well to see a different kind of patronage. [R] Will you say it? Go ahead. [A] Say what? [R] That I should work already! Everyone does. It has been years.

[A] That is not your role, Rowena. We all understand it. [R] Would it help, do you think? [A] No, I do not—not with publicity. If you were to take it on, it must be from an intrinsic desire. It is no part-time occupation. [R] {Chuckles.} I’ll continue patronizing only the Bermet-Perla, then!

[R] I must begin packing. [A] May I come up and help? [R] Can you convince Tomás to take his nap?

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟒𝟑 (𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓.): 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧  /  ROYAL SACRARIUM, NAKAWE, 1926

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

A procession precedes the ceremony, with esteemed guests passing through a sunlit cloister to partake in this opening ritual. By the time they’ve taken their seats, the grand chamber is suffused with the warm, smoky aroma of incense.

thank you, everyone, for sending these beautiful guests ! it was such a treat to take screenshots of them all, and i wish i could’ve included 127385 pictures in this post ! ! !

@sims4presidentoftheunitedstates, @thedevilliers, @empiredesimparte, @funkyllama, @thegrimalldis, @royalsimsinsider, @wa-royal-tea, @presidentialsims, @cyberth0t, @royalsofsimstanstaisia, @warwickroyals, @the-royals-ts4, @moon-simmers, @thesimperiuscurse, @simming-in-the-rain, @cassimopeia, @cozymoodlet, @pinkwohoo, @wildtree-garden

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟒𝟑 (𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓.): 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧  /  ROYAL SACRARIUM, NAKAWE, 1926

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

The ceremony is a simple affair, a fact belied by the opulent space and fanfare. Its purpose is public rather than private, though that doesn’t make the sentiments any less sincere. Many of those in attendance have their own fond memories of standing where Alfonso and Rowena do now.

TRANSCRIPT:

[P] This is a place of circularity, though we know it is not unique for this.

[P] We make greater meaning of marriage, here, in the place where our ancestors’ bones rest. We bring our children to this place to be named by their mothers. They return: to marry; with their children; as ancestors.

[P] In old places, we seek to be seen. Our lives are neither singular nor bound by our time; surrounded by these worn stones, where others have gathered before us and will gather after us, we feel it most.

[P] Memory of ceremony resides in old places. Our place in the circle obligates us to be here and to embody it. Yet, the obligation is a matter of the heart, not the body. To be truly present is our choice.

[P] We should each take seriously our presence here today. In this moment, as blood or witnesses, it is a sublime thing to be part of a circle. 

once again, i am so grateful to all of your sims  !  they make the ceremony 1000% more beautiful, and i would’ve done twice as many posts with them if only i’d had the time. instead, enjoy these few shots, and the more i have in the next ... five or so remaining posts  !

@thegrimalldis​​, @royalsimsinsider​​, @cyberth0t​​, @warwickroyals​​, @moon-simmers​​, @thesimperiuscurse​​, @simming-in-the-rain​​, @cassimopeia​​, @pinkwohoo​​

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟎: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥   /   MATLAL ESTATE, NAKAWE, 1935

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Beatriz made the estate’s furthest edge her play-place, and she has begun a ritual of blowing off steam after school in the quiet clearing. The nanny assigned to comfort her is easily ignorable when Beatriz demands she wait out of eyesight if well within earshot. Most days, her peace goes undisturbed. This blissful streak comes to an end too quickly, however. Alfonso chides her for her temper—‘quick, dangerous, and inherited’—yet it almost always gets the best of her. She expects to tussle with the intruder and close the book on this briefly loved and now ruined spot. Instead, she finds herself sharing it with a new friend.   ​

TRANSCRIPT:

[B] {Humming a tune.}

[B] What is ... Is that my—?

[B] {shouting} Stop! Stop! STOP!

{Both yelling indistinctly.}

{Scuffling noises.}

[?] I didn’t—! I didn’t do anything!

[B] You did! I saw it!

[?] I didn’t open it. I was just curious. [B] That box is private. It’s mine. [?] I swear! I just picked it up. [B] ... Oh.

[?] A diary? [B] A journal. Hiding it here was stupid. I just thought... [?] That this was your place? Me, too. I guess we share it.

[?] Sometimes I play here, but I also like to sit and think. [B] That’s why I write in my journal here. [?] What do you write about?

[B] What every other kid writes about, probably. School. Toys I want. Fights with my mama. [?] Do you fight with her a lot?

[B] Not always, but sometimes. I like my papa better. I think she knows. But ... I shouldn’t tell you that. That’s why I have the journal. [?] It’s okay. I liked my mama better.

[B] Liked? [?] She died. Just me and my papa now. [B] Oh ... I’m sorry. Um, what should I say ... ? I’m sorry.

[?] That’s what everyone says. I don’t know what they’re sorry for. They didn’t do it. She was just sick. [B] Are you sad? If my papa died, I would never stop crying. I would always be sad. Are you that sad?

[?] Yeah. But, you can be sad and feel better at the same time. Most days, I’m just glad I remember her. Some kids don’t when that happens. [B] I’m sorry I hit you. I lost my temper. It was wrong.

[B] Oh! Why are you—? [S]  Thanks for apologizing. I’m Sal. We can be friends.

[B] I’m Bea. I have a yo-yo in the box, if you want to play with it.