scythesms

[scythesms]

The sound of innocent bickering from the two youngest Ambroise children echoed throughout the overgrown yard, amusing the attentive ears of Edmund, who maintained a watchful eye over the playful children. Cecily sat beside her father and observed him in thoughtful silence with a gaze both curious and contemplative. 

Though she’d never been one to shy away from expression, Cecily often found her thoughts speaking louder than her words. She possessed a meticulous nature, in which she preferred carefully weaving her words into coherent thoughts before they were vocalized—a trait notably distinct from her unrestrained siblings. Eugene, driven by an impulsive desire to articulate every mean thought, seemed driven by a need to release his critical opinions from his mind as swiftly as they entered. Josiah, on the other hand, remained indifferent to how others perceived him, prioritizing his own understanding above all else—an attribute that irked those around him, particularly his reluctance to repeat or rephrase. Once spoken, his words stood no chance of being altered or corrected—something Elaine had picked up on. “Think before you speak, Elaine,” Cecily said at least twice a day in response to improper sentences like, “When I’m old, I’ll do a bakery and plant pies” and unreasonable questions that follow such as, “Why can’t I plant pies?”.

Similar to improper conversational etiquette, Cecily held a very low tolerance for stuttering and mumbling. It was like chalk grating a pristine slate to her ears. At her young age, she knew she preferred momentary silence in thought as opposed to stutters from faltering lips and vacant minds. And so she sat, dedicating time to piece her thoughts and curiosities together into a narrative that reflected her intentions precisely.

“Father,” she began, “may I ask you something?”

Edmund, attuned to the gravity of her tone, turned his complete attention to his daughter. Carefully, he said, “You can ask me anything.”

"I was thinking about your lady friend," she confessed. "How did you come to know her?"

Though he had anticipated this very question—wondering which one of his eldest children would broach the subject first—he resented it just as much. There’d been a time early on in his reconnection with Imogene where he had considered sitting his children down, offering them insight into her presence in his life, and disclosing his entire history with her. Yet, he had balked at the notion, second guessing the necessity of such a conversation. If she were merely a friend and there were no further intentions, then perhaps there was no need for an "explanation"... or so he had attempted to convince himself.

“I knew her when I was a young boy… just before meeting your mother. Imogene was… a part of my past.” 

He chose his words carefully. Cecily appreciated that, but it wasn’t enough. She pressed, “Did you love her? Imogene?”

Edmund’s shoulders sagged as he released a sigh before admitting honestly, “Yes, I did.”

He always thought discussing his past with Imogene to his children would stump him, and he’d be a sputtering lying fool. Yet, in that moment, he felt no such indulgence. The admission flowed with an unexpected ease—almost relieving.

A thoughtful pause lingered between them before Cecily ventured further, her voice barely above a whisper, "Did you love her more than my mother?"

He stared ahead. “No.” His response was swift and concrete. “Rosalyn—your mother… holds a place in my heart no one can surpass.”

Cecily was relentless. “Do you still love Imogene?”

“No.” It sounded so simple. 

“Could you love her again?”

He returned his attention to his daughter—her wide eyes void of resentment or detest. “Cecily–”

“I don’t think Mother would be upset with you for loving her again. She would want you to be happy.”

Exhaling softly, Edmund carefully watched Cecily—a reflection of her mother in both demeanor and insight. “I am happy,” he expressed while looking at her side profile, her gaze now fixed ahead. “I’m happy. You four make me happy.”

She shrugged. “You could be happier.”

Cecily had no intention of shoving her father into the arms of any woman, but she wasn’t blind. She’d observed their interactions keenly—a bit foolish if she were to admit. She simply couldn’t imagine someone making her stutter and blush the way her father and Imogene did when in each other's presence. She knew she needed to make it clear to her father that if he decided not to pursue a relationship with the woman, it’d be his sole decision and not one influenced by herself and her siblings… (Addressing Eugene's bitterness would be a concern for another time, should it arise).

While she lacked deep perception of her mother, her memories painted a portrait of a woman akin to an angel. Cecily couldn’t imagine her mother being resentful of her father for seeking love after years spent in mourning.

Edmund, who prided himself on believing he possessed a more intimate understanding of Rosalyn than perhaps anyone else in the world, acknowledged that his daughter's insights held truth in more ways than one.

previous ➺ next

#tzr

[scythesms]

locked in with this one

The sound of innocent bickering from the two youngest Ambroise children echoed throughout the overgrown yard, amusing the attentive ears of Edmund, who maintained a watchful eye over the playful children. Cecily sat beside her father and observed him in thoughtful silence with a gaze both curious and contemplative. 

Though she’d never been one to shy away from expression, Cecily often found her thoughts speaking louder than her words. She possessed a meticulous nature, in which she preferred carefully weaving her words into coherent thoughts before they were vocalized—a trait notably distinct from her unrestrained siblings. Eugene, driven by an impulsive desire to articulate every mean thought, seemed driven by a need to release his critical opinions from his mind as swiftly as they entered. Josiah, on the other hand, remained indifferent to how others perceived him, prioritizing his own understanding above all else—an attribute that irked those around him, particularly his reluctance to repeat or rephrase. Once spoken, his words stood no chance of being altered or corrected—something Elaine had picked up on. “Think before you speak, Elaine,” Cecily said at least twice a day in response to improper sentences like, “When I’m old, I’ll do a bakery and plant pies” and unreasonable questions that follow such as, “Why can’t I plant pies?”.

Similar to improper conversational etiquette, Cecily held a very low tolerance for stuttering and mumbling. It was like chalk grating a pristine slate to her ears. At her young age, she knew she preferred momentary silence in thought as opposed to stutters from faltering lips and vacant minds. And so she sat, dedicating time to piece her thoughts and curiosities together into a narrative that reflected her intentions precisely.

“Father,” she began, “may I ask you something?”

Edmund, attuned to the gravity of her tone, turned his complete attention to his daughter. Carefully, he said, “You can ask me anything.”

"I was thinking about your lady friend," she confessed. "How did you come to know her?"

Though he had anticipated this very question—wondering which one of his eldest children would broach the subject first—he resented it just as much. There’d been a time early on in his reconnection with Imogene where he had considered sitting his children down, offering them insight into her presence in his life, and disclosing his entire history with her. Yet, he had balked at the notion, second guessing the necessity of such a conversation. If she were merely a friend and there were no further intentions, then perhaps there was no need for an "explanation"... or so he had attempted to convince himself.

“I knew her when I was a young boy… just before meeting your mother. Imogene was… a part of my past.” 

He chose his words carefully. Cecily appreciated that, but it wasn’t enough. She pressed, “Did you love her? Imogene?”

Edmund’s shoulders sagged as he released a sigh before admitting honestly, “Yes, I did.”

He always thought discussing his past with Imogene to his children would stump him, and he’d be a sputtering lying fool. Yet, in that moment, he felt no such indulgence. The admission flowed with an unexpected ease—almost relieving.

A thoughtful pause lingered between them before Cecily ventured further, her voice barely above a whisper, "Did you love her more than my mother?"

He stared ahead. “No.” His response was swift and concrete. “Rosalyn—your mother… holds a place in my heart no one can surpass.”

Cecily was relentless. “Do you still love Imogene?”

“No.” It sounded so simple. 

“Could you love her again?”

He returned his attention to his daughter—her wide eyes void of resentment or detest. “Cecily–”

“I don’t think Mother would be upset with you for loving her again. She would want you to be happy.”

Exhaling softly, Edmund carefully watched Cecily—a reflection of her mother in both demeanor and insight. “I am happy,” he expressed while looking at her side profile, her gaze now fixed ahead. “I’m happy. You four make me happy.”

She shrugged. “You could be happier.”

Cecily had no intention of shoving her father into the arms of any woman, but she wasn’t blind. She’d observed their interactions keenly—a bit foolish if she were to admit. She simply couldn’t imagine someone making her stutter and blush the way her father and Imogene did when in each other's presence. She knew she needed to make it clear to her father that if he decided not to pursue a relationship with the woman, it’d be his sole decision and not one influenced by herself and her siblings… (Addressing Eugene's bitterness would be a concern for another time, should it arise).

While she lacked deep perception of her mother, her memories painted a portrait of a woman akin to an angel. Cecily couldn’t imagine her mother being resentful of her father for seeking love after years spent in mourning.

Edmund, who prided himself on believing he possessed An intimate understanding of Rosalyn than perhaps anyone else in the world, acknowledged that his daughter's insights held truth in more ways than one.

previous ➺ next

[scythesms]

The sound of innocent bickering from the two youngest Ambroise children echoed throughout the overgrown yard, amusing the attentive ears of Edmund, who maintained a watchful eye over the playful children. Cecily sat beside her father and observed him in thoughtful silence with a gaze both curious and contemplative. 

Though she’d never been one to shy away from expression, Cecily often found her thoughts speaking louder than her words. She possessed a meticulous nature, in which she preferred carefully weaving her words into coherent thoughts before they were vocalized—a trait notably distinct from her unrestrained siblings. Eugene, driven by an impulsive desire to articulate every mean thought, seemed driven by a need to release his critical opinions from his mind as swiftly as they entered. Josiah, on the other hand, remained indifferent to how others perceived him, prioritizing his own understanding above all else—an attribute that irked those around him, particularly his reluctance to repeat or rephrase. Once spoken, his words stood no chance of being altered or corrected—something Elaine had picked up on. “Think before you speak, Elaine,” Cecily said at least twice a day in response to improper sentences like, “When I’m old, I’ll do a bakery and plant pies” and unreasonable questions that follow such as, “Why can’t I plant pies?”.

Similar to improper conversational etiquette, Cecily held a very low tolerance for stuttering and mumbling. It was like chalk grating a pristine slate to her ears. At her young age, she knew she preferred momentary silence in thought as opposed to stutters from faltering lips and vacant minds. And so she sat, dedicating time to piece her thoughts and curiosities together into a narrative that reflected her intentions precisely.

“Father,” she began, “may I ask you something?”

Edmund, attuned to the gravity of her tone, turned his complete attention to his daughter. Carefully, he said, “You can ask me anything.”

"I was thinking about your lady friend," she confessed. "How did you come to know her?"

Though he had anticipated this very question—wondering which one of his eldest children would broach the subject first—he resented it just as much. There’d been a time early on in his reconnection with Imogene where he had considered sitting his children down, offering them insight into her presence in his life, and disclosing his entire history with her. Yet, he had balked at the notion, second guessing the necessity of such a conversation. If she were merely a friend and there were no further intentions, then perhaps there was no need for an "explanation"... or so he had attempted to convince himself.

“I knew her when I was a young boy… just before meeting your mother. Imogene was… a part of my past.” 

He chose his words carefully. Cecily appreciated that, but it wasn’t enough. She pressed, “Did you love her? Imogene?”

Edmund’s shoulders sagged as he released a sigh before admitting honestly, “Yes, I did.”

He always thought discussing his past with Imogene to his children would stump him, and he’d be a sputtering lying fool. Yet, in that moment, he felt no such indulgence. The admission flowed with an unexpected ease—almost relieving.

A thoughtful pause lingered between them before Cecily ventured further, her voice barely above a whisper, "Did you love her more than my mother?"

He stared ahead. “No.” His response was swift and concrete. “Rosalyn—your mother… holds a place in my heart no one can surpass.”

Cecily was relentless. “Do you still love Imogene?”

“No.” It sounded so simple. 

“Could you love her again?”

He returned his attention to his daughter—her wide eyes void of resentment or detest. “Cecily–”

“I don’t think Mother would be upset with you for loving her again. She would want you to be happy.”

Exhaling softly, Edmund carefully watched Cecily—a reflection of her mother in both demeanor and insight. “I am happy,” he expressed while looking at her side profile, her gaze now fixed ahead. “I’m happy. You four make me happy.”

She shrugged. “You could be happier.”

Cecily had no intention of shoving her father into the arms of any woman, but she wasn’t blind. She’d observed their interactions keenly—a bit foolish if she were to admit. She simply couldn’t imagine someone making her stutter and blush the way her father and Imogene did when in each other's presence. She knew she needed to make it clear to her father that if he decided not to pursue a relationship with the woman, it’d be his sole decision and not one influenced by herself and her siblings… (Addressing Eugene's bitterness would be a concern for another time, should it arise).

While she lacked deep perception of her mother, her memories painted a portrait of a woman akin to an angel. Cecily couldn’t imagine her mother being resentful of her father for seeking love after years spent in mourning.

Edmund, who prided himself on believing he possessed a more intimate understanding of Rosalyn than perhaps anyone else in the world, acknowledged that his daughter's insights held truth in more ways than one.

previous ➺ next

#1916 #Ambroise Legacy #1910s #decades challenge #sims historical #sims decades challenge #ts4 historical #ts4 challenge #ts4 decades challenge #black simblr #sims stories #AL #Edmund Ambroise #Cecily Ambroise

[scythesms]

There was a new lightness to Edmund’s step, a buoyancy that didn't go unnoticed for long. The children were the first to notice. Paul, however, was still processing the change. He tried to suppress his curiosity but couldn't resist. It was strange; he’d never seen Edmund so… happy.

“What's put you in such high spirits?” Paul asked, fully aware of the reason behind his friend’s uplifted mood. He wasn’t an idiot. What were friends if not two individuals who could freely discuss their sources of joy and the “lady friends” in their lives?

Edmund halted, turning to face his friend, a smile still faint on his lips. “Is it so strange for me to be anything but miserable?”

Paul wasted no time in responding, his words laced with honesty. "Yes."

Edmund reminisced playfully, “Remember when you'd visit and barely utter a word?”

Paul dismissed his pale attempt at evading the topic at hand as they continued their walk through the manor. “Elaine told me your friend was invited inside – Imogene, is it?”

“You’re making my children your informants?”

“That’s improvement, my friend! A visitor!” Paul deafeningly congratulated Edmund, whose light expression fell under the weight of Paul’s words. 

Edmund quickened his pace, signaling his reluctance to dwell on the subject. But Paul remained steadfast, refusing to let the matter fade away. Edmund's unease grew when Paul broached the topic head-on, questioning his intentions with Imogene. 

They reached a standstill, Edmund’s gaze wandering to a portrait adorning the wall. His eyes lingered on the painted features of his late wife, Rosalyn, and his throat tightened. It felt as though they were face to face and he wasn’t merely confronting remnants of their shared history.

“She’s my friend – just a friend,” he promised, though uncertain whether he was trying to convince Paul, himself, or the memory of Rosalyn.

previous ➺ next

#tzr

[scythesms]

There was a new lightness to Edmund’s step, a buoyancy that didn't go unnoticed for long. The children were the first to notice. Paul, however, was still processing the change. He tried to suppress his curiosity but couldn't resist. It was strange; he’d never seen Edmund so… happy.

“What's put you in such high spirits?” Paul asked, fully aware of the reason behind his friend’s uplifted mood. He wasn’t an idiot. What were friends if not two individuals who could freely discuss their sources of joy and the “lady friends” in their lives?

Edmund halted, turning to face his friend, a smile still faint on his lips. “Is it so strange for me to be anything but miserable?”

Paul wasted no time in responding, his words laced with honesty. "Yes."

Edmund reminisced playfully, “Remember when you'd visit and barely utter a word?”

Paul dismissed his pale attempt at evading the topic at hand as they continued their walk through the manor. “Elaine told me your friend was invited inside – Imogene, is it?”

“You’re making my children your informants?”

“That’s improvement, my friend! A visitor!” Paul deafeningly congratulated Edmund, whose light expression fell under the weight of Paul’s words. 

Edmund quickened his pace, signaling his reluctance to dwell on the subject. But Paul remained steadfast, refusing to let the matter fade away. Edmund's unease grew when Paul broached the topic head-on, questioning his intentions with Imogene. 

They reached a standstill, Edmund’s gaze wandering to a portrait adorning the wall. His eyes lingered on the painted features of his late wife, Rosalyn, and his throat tightened. It felt as though they were face to face and he wasn’t merely confronting remnants of their shared history.

“She’s my friend – just a friend,” he promised, though uncertain whether he was trying to convince Paul, himself, or the memory of Rosalyn.

previous ➺ next

[scythesms]

There was a new lightness to Edmund’s step, a buoyancy that didn't go unnoticed for long. The children were the first to notice. Paul, however, was still processing the change. He tried to suppress his curiosity but couldn't resist. It was strange; he’d never seen Edmund so… happy.

“What's put you in such high spirits?” Paul asked, fully aware of the reason behind his friend’s uplifted mood. He wasn’t an idiot. What were friends if not two individuals who could freely discuss their sources of joy and the “lady friends” in their lives?

Edmund halted, turning to face his friend, a smile still faint on his lips. “Is it so strange for me to be anything but miserable?”

Paul wasted no time in responding, his words laced with honesty. "Yes."

Edmund reminisced playfully, “Remember when you'd visit and barely utter a word?”

Paul dismissed his pale attempt at evading the topic at hand as they continued their walk through the manor. “Elaine told me your friend was invited inside – Imogene, is it?”

“You’re making my children your informants?”

“That’s improvement, my friend! A visitor!” Paul deafeningly congratulated Edmund, whose light expression fell under the weight of Paul’s words. 

Edmund quickened his pace, signaling his reluctance to dwell on the subject. But Paul remained steadfast, refusing to let the matter fade away. Edmund's unease grew when Paul broached the topic head-on, questioning his intentions with Imogene. 

They reached a standstill, Edmund’s gaze wandering to a portrait adorning the wall. His eyes lingered on the painted features of his late wife, Rosalyn, and his throat tightened. It felt as though they were face to face and he wasn’t merely confronting remnants of their shared history.

“She’s my friend – just a friend,” he promised, though uncertain whether he was trying to convince Paul, himself, or the memory of Rosalyn.

previous ➺ next

#short one.. am trying to get these posts outtt <3 #1916 #Ambroise Legacy #1910s #decades challenge #sims historical #sims decades challenge #ts4 historical #ts4 challenge #ts4 decades challenge #black simblr #sims stories #AL #Edmund Ambroise

[scythesms]

The children shook in their stockings when their father approached, seeking their permission to invite his friend into the manor. They couldn’t believe it. For the past few years, their home had been a sanctuary limited to only two guests: Paul and Elaine's physician. The proposal of introducing someone new, particularly a "lady friend" of their father's, stirred a whirlwind of emotions within his children.

Edmund sensed their initial apprehension. They had been isolated for so long, cocooned within the walls of the manor. The idea of accommodating an outsider in the comfort of their own home felt both exhilarating and unsettling. In the end, they did agree. Cecily, Josiah, and Elaine did, at least. In truth, they wanted to become acquainted with the lady ever since learning of their father's frequent outings with her.

The three youngest children peered out from behind the arch of the door, eager to catch a glimpse of their father and his companion as they spoke quietly upon their arrival in the foyer. 

Elaine was the first out, running straight into her father’s expecting arms. Meanwhile, Cecily and Josiah focused their attention on her. Josiah, ever the blunt one, took it upon himself to inform their guest of his father’s zealous cleaning spree in preparation for her visit, only to find the floors still lacking in cleanliness. Simultaneously, Cecily warmly welcomed their new guest, offering to be her guide through the expansive manor.

Imogene was captivated by the children’s warmth and innocence, their small voices blending in a chorus of curiosity and excitement.

Unnoticed by the bustling gathering in the foyer, Eugene observed silently from his position on the stairs. He sat with a brooding gaze, casting a disapproving eye upon his overly enthusiastic and excessively sharing siblings, as well as his stuttering father. When his gaze fell upon Imogene, a surge of frustration stained his vision red. Was everyone in the house touched by madness? It was a question he had pondered for years, and the resounding answer remained unchanged: Yes.

previous ➺ next

#tzrr

[scythesms]

The children shook in their stockings when their father approached, seeking their permission to invite his friend into the manor. They couldn’t believe it. For the past few years, their home had been a sanctuary limited to only two guests: Paul and Elaine's physician. The proposal of introducing someone new, particularly a "lady friend" of their father's, stirred a whirlwind of emotions within his children.

Edmund sensed their initial apprehension. They had been isolated for so long, cocooned within the walls of the manor. The idea of accommodating an outsider in the comfort of their own home felt both exhilarating and unsettling. In the end, they did agree. Cecily, Josiah, and Elaine did, at least. In truth, they wanted to become acquainted with the lady ever since learning of their father's frequent outings with her.

The three youngest children peered out from behind the arch of the door, eager to catch a glimpse of their father and his companion as they spoke quietly upon their arrival in the foyer. 

Elaine was the first out, running straight into her father’s expecting arms. Meanwhile, Cecily and Josiah focused their attention on her. Josiah, ever the blunt one, took it upon himself to inform their guest of his father’s zealous cleaning spree in preparation for her visit, only to find the floors still lacking in cleanliness. Simultaneously, Cecily warmly welcomed their new guest, offering to be her guide through the expansive manor.

Imogene was captivated by the children’s warmth and innocence, their small voices blending in a chorus of curiosity and excitement.

Unnoticed by the bustling gathering in the foyer, Eugene observed silently from his position on the stairs. He sat with a brooding gaze, casting a disapproving eye upon his overly enthusiastic and excessively sharing siblings, as well as his stuttering father. When his gaze fell upon Imogene, a surge of frustration stained his vision red. Was everyone in the house touched by madness? It was a question he had pondered for years, and the resounding answer remained unchanged: Yes.

previous ➺ next

#1916 #Ambroise Legacy #1910s #decades challenge #sims historical #sims decades challenge #ts4 historical #ts4 challenge #ts4 decades challenge #black simblr #sims stories #AL #Edmund Ambroise #Eugene Ambroise #Cecily Ambroise #Josiah Ambroise #Elaine Ambroise

[scythesms]

The children noticed a subtle shift in their father’s behavior, particularly his newfound outings that weren’t bound by his usual work hours. They collectively held their tongues, sensing that there was something intentionally private about their father's activities. Instead, the girls adopted a pattern of watching him leave through the second story window - peering down at his departures and returns - his destination unknown. Their only understanding was that wherever he was going and whoever he went to see brought about a drastic change from his typical solitary days spent in his bedroom or study.

Sometimes, he’d leave in the early morning light. Other times, he disappeared in the late afternoon, just as the sun began its descent behind the distant hills. Regardless of the time, he would return hours later, occasionally when the children were meant to be in bed.

As weeks passed and their father's excursions from the manor grew more frequent, Cecily and Elaine noticed further changes in his demeanor and appearance. His solemn expression seemed to brighten, his steps gaining a newfound spring, and his attire, once simple and practical, now bore the mark of careful attention. They were unable to suppress their giggles at the sight of him freshly shaved for the first time in years. It was a notable change, but not unwelcome.

The girls whispered to one another one night as he strode out of the manor, wondering whom he might be eager to impress beyond the gates.

One afternoon, they caught a glimpse of the very person they had speculated about for so long. There, at the gate, stood the woman they had met at the market and who had surprised them with a visit to the manor all that time ago.

The realization dawned upon them – was their father spending time with her?

Initial confusion gave way to a whirlwind of emotions, but above all, they felt a surge of happiness for their father's companion. 

Their reverie, however, was disrupted by the arrival of their eldest brother. His scowl was evident from the moment he entered the room. While Cecily and Elaine cooed over their unknowing father and his lady friend, Eugene's face hardened.

“Who is she?” He uttered with disdain. “And why is he dressed so strangely? That hat is dreadful.”

His sisters ignored him, watching their father interact with the woman they couldn’t remember the name of. 

previous ➺ next

#tzrr

[scythesms]

The children noticed a subtle shift in their father’s behavior, particularly his newfound outings that weren’t bound by his usual work hours. They collectively held their tongues, sensing that there was something intentionally private about their father's activities. Instead, the girls adopted a pattern of watching him leave through the second story window - peering down at his departures and returns - his destination unknown. Their only understanding was that wherever he was going and whoever he went to see brought about a drastic change from his typical solitary days spent in his bedroom or study.

Sometimes, he’d leave in the early morning light. Other times, he disappeared in the late afternoon, just as the sun began its descent behind the distant hills. Regardless of the time, he would return hours later, occasionally when the children were meant to be in bed.

As weeks passed and their father's excursions from the manor grew more frequent, Cecily and Elaine noticed further changes in his demeanor and appearance. His solemn expression seemed to brighten, his steps gaining a newfound spring, and his attire, once simple and practical, now bore the mark of careful attention. They were unable to suppress their giggles at the sight of him freshly shaved for the first time in years. It was a notable change, but not unwelcome.

The girls whispered to one another one night as he strode out of the manor, wondering whom he might be eager to impress beyond the gates.

One afternoon, they caught a glimpse of the very person they had speculated about for so long. There, at the gate, stood the woman they had met at the market and who had surprised them with a visit to the manor all that time ago.

The realization dawned upon them – was their father spending time with her?

Initial confusion gave way to a whirlwind of emotions, but above all, they felt a surge of happiness for their father's companion. 

Their reverie, however, was disrupted by the arrival of their eldest brother. His scowl was evident from the moment he entered the room. While Cecily and Elaine cooed over their unknowing father and his lady friend, Eugene's face hardened.

“Who is she?” He uttered with disdain. “And why is he dressed so strangely? That hat is dreadful.”

His sisters ignored him, watching their father interact with the woman they couldn’t remember the name of. 

previous ➺ next

#1916 #Ambroise Legacy #1910s #decades challenge #sims 4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 challenge #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #black simblr #sims stories #AL #Edmund Ambroise #Eugene Ambroise #Cecily Ambroise #Elaine Ambroise

[scythesms]

reminder for myself to take a shot of edmund and cecily side by side because they're literally twins

#teenage cecily especially oh my god

[scythesms]

Despite his best efforts to hide it, Edmund's discomfort grew with every step Imogene took beyond the gates.

He couldn't stop apologizing for the neglected state of his property. It’d been his first time ever feeling ashamed of the overgrown grass and cracked pavement. He’d even caught himself in a lie when assuring her the inside of his home was better off.

“Please, Edmund, there's no need. Grass always grows in grief. It seems nature understands the burden of sorrow.” Imogene interjected, ending his apologies. He only nodded, grateful for her understanding, but unable to find words to match her sentiment. Proceeding cautiously, she said, “I only recently learned of the tragedies that befell your family. I am so sorry for your losses.”

He forced a look of little gratitude, reluctant to delve into the past. The mention of his late wife, sister, mother, and father made him tense. While he acknowledged Imogene's sincere apology, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out.

She sensed his disdain all too quickly, expected it even. “I, too, lost someone to the lung. My youngest brother. It’s been… difficult.”

Edmund remained silent, unable to express his sympathy without betraying his desire to keep the past buried.

She pressed on, “Grief has a way of consuming us, doesn't it?” His eyes reflected the weight of her words, although his silence and avoidance of her gaze revealed much. “We don't have to speak of it if you'd rather not. Sometimes, just knowing someone understands can be enough.”

The air grew dense with the burden of unspoken words as they wandered deeper into the garden and the grounds of his estate.

Edmund led her along the path to the weathered fountain, where she broke the silence. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, after all this time,” she confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty as her lips formed a nervous smile. “I thought you had left, disappeared into the world beyond our little town. I never saw you on the streets again… I must also admit that there was a time your absence brought me relief - knowing I wouldn’t have to face you after-”

Edmund frowned when she stopped herself. He wondered if her motive for coming was to find closure with him and release years of harbored resentment.

“I suppose... I suppose I came here hoping to find solace. But now that I'm here, I'm not sure what I want you to say.”

Since her arrival, he had grappled with finding the right words, torn between the desire to make amends and the fear of rejection. Her face fell as she observed his inner conflict. Without a word, she moved to settle beside the fountain, leaving the onus of conversation to him.

At length, he found his voice. “I... I don't know what you want to hear from me, but I want you to know that I am sorry - deeply sorry for what happened between us and what I did to you… I realize this apology comes late in life, and for that, I apologize as well."

“Thank you…”

Edmund awaited her further response, hoping for more, yet was met with silence. Although his admission released some of the obvious tension between the two, it was evident that there remained unresolved matters. Drawing closer, he sat beside her.

“You didn’t come solely for an apology,” he deduced.

She looked at him, hesitant before asking, “Can I ask about her? Rosalyn?”

His reluctance was apparent as his gaze drifted, wrestling with memories long buried beneath layers of grief and the mere mention of her name. “It’s… it’s not an easy subject for me.”

“I understand,” she responded, her voice gentle. “But I must know… Did you truly love her?”

Without hesitation, Edmund confidently nodded. “Yes. I loved Rosalyn... with all of my heart. And I always will.” He didn’t feel ashamed saying so. If there was one thing he knew, that was it. “I don’t regret it – my decision. But I do regret how I went about it… We’ve carried this burden for far too long.”

Her smile took him by surprise. “I'm glad your decision brought you happiness in the end. There’s no intent to change the past,” she affirmed, her voice soft yet resolute, “but perhaps we could move forward as friends?”

He was unreadable as he considered the offer. Eventually, a subtle smile graced his lips. “Friends... yes,” he murmured with quiet resolve.

She extended her hand first, a testament to her sincerity - a handshake. He found the gesture slightly amusing, and despite his initial impulse to resist, he allowed his hand to meet hers in a tentative grasp. With a single shake, they sealed their unspoken pact - an almost senseless act but necessary.

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#tzrr

[scythesms]

he means a lot to me

#so happy to be back lolllll #i missed my gloomy bb

[scythesms]

Despite his best efforts to hide it, Edmund's discomfort grew with every step Imogene took beyond the gates.

He couldn't stop apologizing for the neglected state of his property. It’d been his first time ever feeling ashamed of the overgrown grass and cracked pavement. He’d even caught himself in a lie when assuring her the inside of his home was better off.

“Please, Edmund, there's no need. Grass always grows in grief. It seems nature understands the burden of sorrow.” Imogene interjected, ending his apologies. He only nodded, grateful for her understanding, but unable to find words to match her sentiment. Proceeding cautiously, she said, “I only recently learned of the tragedies that befell your family. I am so sorry for your losses.”

He forced a look of little gratitude, reluctant to delve into the past. The mention of his late wife, sister, mother, and father made him tense. While he acknowledged Imogene's sincere apology, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out.

She sensed his disdain all too quickly, expected it even. “I, too, lost someone to the lung. My youngest brother. It’s been… difficult.”

Edmund remained silent, unable to express his sympathy without betraying his desire to keep the past buried.

She pressed on, “Grief has a way of consuming us, doesn't it?” His eyes reflected the weight of her words, although his silence and avoidance of her gaze revealed much. “We don't have to speak of it if you'd rather not. Sometimes, just knowing someone understands can be enough.”

The air grew dense with the burden of unspoken words as they wandered deeper into the garden and the grounds of his estate.

Edmund led her along the path to the weathered fountain, where she broke the silence. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, after all this time,” she confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty as her lips formed a nervous smile. “I thought you had left, disappeared into the world beyond our little town. I never saw you on the streets again… I must also admit that there was a time your absence brought me relief - knowing I wouldn’t have to face you after-”

Edmund frowned when she stopped herself. He wondered if her motive for coming was to find closure with him and release years of harbored resentment.

“I suppose... I suppose I came here hoping to find solace. But now that I'm here, I'm not sure what I want you to say.”

Since her arrival, he had grappled with finding the right words, torn between the desire to make amends and the fear of rejection. Her face fell as she observed his inner conflict. Without a word, she moved to settle beside the fountain, leaving the onus of conversation to him.

At length, he found his voice. “I... I don't know what you want to hear from me, but I want you to know that I am sorry - deeply sorry for what happened between us and what I did to you… I realize this apology comes late in life, and for that, I apologize as well."

“Thank you…”

Edmund awaited her further response, hoping for more, yet was met with silence. Although his admission released some of the obvious tension between the two, it was evident that there remained unresolved matters. Drawing closer, he sat beside her.

“You didn’t come solely for an apology,” he deduced.

She looked at him, hesitant before asking, “Can I ask about her? Rosalyn?”

His reluctance was apparent as his gaze drifted, wrestling with memories long buried beneath layers of grief and the mere mention of her name. “It’s… it’s not an easy subject for me.”

“I understand,” she responded, her voice gentle. “But I must know… Did you truly love her?”

Without hesitation, Edmund confidently nodded. “Yes. I loved Rosalyn... with all of my heart. And I always will.” He didn’t feel ashamed saying so. If there was one thing he knew, that was it. “I don’t regret it – my decision. But I do regret how I went about it… We’ve carried this burden for far too long.”

Her smile took him by surprise. “I'm glad your decision brought you happiness in the end. There’s no intent to change the past,” she affirmed, her voice soft yet resolute, “but perhaps we could move forward as friends?”

He was unreadable as he considered the offer. Eventually, a subtle smile graced his lips. “Friends... yes,” he murmured with quiet resolve.

She extended her hand first, a testament to her sincerity - a handshake. He found the gesture slightly amusing, and despite his initial impulse to resist, he allowed his hand to meet hers in a tentative grasp. With a single shake, they sealed their unspoken pact - an almost senseless act but necessary.

previous ➺ next

#1916 #Ambroise Legacy #1910s #decades challenge #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 challenge #black simblr #sims stories #AL #Edmund Ambroise #...

[scythesms]

hey! just checking if you're doing alright!

hi lovely!! i’m doing fine, just busy is all! thank you for checking in that's so kind of you :)) <333

[scythesms]

FRIEND!!! Where are you? Are you okay? I miss you and your beautiful legacy!! I hope you come back soon and I hope your healthy and happy!

I lit up when I saw this,,, Hi my love!!! I’m sorry for disappearing - the 9 to 5 got me.. but I’m here and well thank you <333

I missed seeing yours and everyone’s posts on my feed and interacting and posting and ugh I missed you I missed simblr

thank you for checking in, my heart is full! ❤️❤️❤️ sooso excited to get back into everything from catching up on posts to posting in general

[scythesms]

hi friends :’))

long story short my bad ya’ll 💔

TMI - I moved and got a new job that my life revolves around + two kitties who also consumed my soul :/

III don’t have nearly as much time as I used to to devote to this challenge but for monthsss I’ve wanted to post again :( Soo I want to do my best to keep the legacy going by putting a few posts out a week because I love and miss my decades babies + My favorite upcoming eras/plots will haunt my dreams until they’re out there.

Anyway happy belated holidays, happy new year, and happy black history month lovelies 🎉🎉❤️ My goal’s to get the Ambroises to 1930 by the end of 2024 🎉

#i got this 🤕 #anyway… so sorry for that cliffhanger. the next part was a bitch to write #hope y’all are still there 😀 #going though my notifs rn #you’re all so lovely #<333 #also gonna rebrand my page soon can't wait to be done w that