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Decades Challenge Navigation

Current Decade: 1910 Status: ongoing

Beginning | Recent | Chronological * 1890s * 1900s * 1910s

Characters Family Tree Outtakes | Chronological Builds & Floorplans

TW: Racism, Religion, Politics, Class Discussion, Sex, Violence, Trauma, Substance Abuse, Illness, and Death 

Downloads/Poses

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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.

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.

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

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

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.

When Paul took on the role of Edmund's assistant, he assumed a significant position as second-in-command of Owens Banking operations. He shouldered the responsibilities of overseeing administrative tasks, bookkeeping, data entry, cash handling, and various accompanying matters for four years. Additionally, the Ambroise Community Railroad was intricately linked to Owens Banking, relying on its loans and financial support for expansions and equipment purchases. Paul's involvement with the railroad was once limited to these financial aspects before he gradually found himself contributing ideas and insights to better Ambroise Community Railroad.

As they surrounded the work table in the parlor, hours later than usual with papers scattered across the table and the sound of childish laughter, Paul informed Edmund of the constant uproar of ticket sales at the stations. The hum of pleasure in his voice while discussing the railway’s reputation was palpable. Over all else, Paul adored his hometown. Playing a role in driving Windenburg’s population and economic growth through connecting communities and promoting trade had a positive effect on him.

The least Edmund could do was listen.

Edmund was lost in his thoughts, as usual, when he finally registered Paul's voice calling his name for the third time, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Edmund.” 

He turned to Paul, who skeptically stared down at him. “Where’s your head at? We need to wrap this up. ‘ventually, you’ll have to compensate me for all this time we’re wasting.” Edmund closed his eyes briefly and let out a sigh of frustration. Paul's gaze remained fixed on the quiet man. “This have anything to do with that woman from the other day?”

“What woman, Paul?” Edmund asked, exasperated and exhausted. His hand moved to massage his temple.

“You know damn well who I’m-”

“I’m okay,” Edmund interjected, his tone a blend of plea and defense, as if begging Paul to let the matter go. “I got sidetracked by one of my many concerns – none of which have anything to do with her."

Paul's eyes rolled before he redirected his attention back to the documents on the table. Meanwhile, Edmund's focus shifted to the giggling children occupying the same room as them. He watched them until they ran out to continue their antics elsewhere in the manor, prompting him to refocus on the ever-persistent Paul and the mountain of paperwork demanding his notice.

Moments passed without Edmund's distraction or the sounds of the children disrupting the scene. It was then that Paul decided to inject a touch of his own humor into the atmosphere.

“It’s interesting,” he mused aloud. “She wasn't wearing a ring.”

Edmund chose to ignore him.

Paul pressed on. “I’m just sayin’. Every couple within sight seems to be purchasing rings these days – a craze. I’m sure it’ll pass. Still, a bit unusual, isn't it? Not the rings, but- well, you understand. In any case, I suppose that works in your favor - you fighting to keep her out your head and all.”

Edmund eyed the man with a look that conveyed not just irritation, but a glare that spoke volumes.

Paul released a dismissive huff. “Said I’m too quiet. Now I talk too much. Can’t have it all...”

Edmund regretted his impulsive shout before voicing the last syllable. He held onto a fervent hope that the woman would refrain from turning around, preferring the embarrassment of having mistaken an identity from his past than what confirmation would entail.

When her hurried steps came to a pause and her frame hesitated, he caught up with his impulses in time to understand the magnitude of his actions and the person he had called out to. Amidst his growing regret, her slow turn amplified his discomfort, and he wondered if time had slowed down solely for him.

He was unsure what to expect. It’d been years since he’d last seen her - Imogene. Now, she stood before him, mirroring his astonishment with parted lips and widened eyes. He froze beneath her gaze, once so familiar to him, and wondered if the hairs on her arms rose as his did.

Beneath racing thoughts, unspoken words, and inner turmoil, he managed to steal a moment to study her features for the first time in years, revising what had been left of her fleeting image in his aging mind and distant memories. From what he could recall of her appearance, time had been kind to her - a kindness that had evaded him for various reasons. The passage of time had etched lines on both of their faces from the separate paths they had embarked upon. The last time they’d seen one another was at the mere edge of childhood, touches away from adulthood. Now, those years seemed to dissolve as he struggled beneath the gaze of a woman he had once known so deeply, yet had become a stranger to.

In the distant past, he dreamt of their reunion. The first of these dreams occurred on his wedding night, as he lay beside his bride. He’d close his eyes and wince at Imogene’s dismissive gestures. The last had come the night his first son was born. 

It’d been a little over a decade, yet an awareness lingered in the recesses of his mind that if they ever were to cross paths again, she’d ignore him and he’d do the same - two souls pretending they had never met, never held hands, and never made promises of eternal waiting.

He wished he’d simply allowed her to pass by. If only he convinced himself that countless necklaces identical to the one he had once bought her had been scattered across Windenburg and beyond. Surely, any woman could adorn that very piece of jewelry. If he’d believed it, he wouldn’t have found himself confronting a face he had once hoped to relegate to his past. 

The seconds stretched on as he waited for her words of resentment and anger. They never came. Instead, she stood before him with an expression akin to that of someone reuniting with a long-lost friend. It was as if he were a companion she hadn't been in touch with for years, rather than a figure from her romantic past who had engaged himself to another without even a whisper in her direction.

Despite the passing years, her voice was still soft, a soothing presence in his ears as she welcomed him with a smile. “Edmund? It’s- Oh my, it’s been so long. How have you been?”

He was startled by the kindness in her voice. His tongue weighed his jaw down, a torrent of emotions threatening to spill over during his struggle to find words. Only her name seemed to rise to the surface of his thoughts.

Imogene offered her own unspoken insights into his demeanor. At that moment, he became acutely aware of his own appearance, considering how much he had changed since their last encounter.

“I'm sorry," he finally spoke. His mouth acted in haste, leaving the rest of him scrambling to catch up. “I shouldn't have..."

“Shouldn’t have…?” she echoed, seeking clarity.

He hadn’t anticipated the depth of emotion the unexpected reunion would stir within him. He cast his eyes downward briefly before shifting his gaze to the side, where Paul once stood alone, now encircled by his curious children. The sudden shift in their father's demeanor didn't go unnoticed. It was as if he’d seen a ghost, though the ghost in question was the woman standing before him. The children’s attention moved from their father to the unfamiliar woman who had already turned to greet them.

“Hello there,” she extended a warm greeting, casting a fleeting smile in Paul's direction before returning her sincere focus to the children. 

Cecily, who Imogene believed to be the oldest child due to her height and striking resemblance to Edmund, greeted her with a grin. Her younger brother and sister exchanged wary glances before responding with their own shy smiles and soft-spoken greetings.

Imogene turned back to Edmund, who remained still. “The theater is putting on a show for children in the upcoming days. It would be great to see you all there. I'm pressed for time at the moment, but we could talk afterward, maybe over a cup of tea?”

Edmund could only capture a few of her words, holding onto them in an effort to engage in conversation. “You still work at the theater?” 

Still, he said. The word hung in the air, accompanied by a pang of realization. The first and only time he’d learned of her work at the theater was the last time they’d spoken. 

“The Celia-Mae Theatre, yes.” Her words lingered, a pause laden with anticipation during her wait for his response to her initial offer.

The theater, a place he hadn't visited since he was young, held memories too sensitive to confront. It was too soon. This was all too soon.

“We appreciate the invitation, but we won’t be able to attend," he responded, his tone gentle yet firm. Whether he intentionally disregarded the way his children's eyes lit up with interest at the mention of the theater or he simply didn’t notice remained unclear. They knew it’d take a lot for him to allow ventures beyond their walks into town. The journey to reach their recent standing had been a slow and deliberate one. 

"Oh."

Edmund knew she expected him to suggest another time or setting that’d allow them to talk, but he wasn’t too sure that was what he wanted. Their current encounter had already left his mind reeling, a sensation that promised to linger for the next several days, if not longer.

His reluctance to reschedule gradually occurred to Imogene. A small nod accompanied by a gentle smile conveyed her understanding. “Was nice seeing you, regardless.” She turned to Paul and the children. “Wonderful to meet you all.”

Edmund stood still, as he’d done throughout the entirety of their interaction. His gaze fixed itself on Imogene’s retreating form, leaving him with a whirlwind of thoughts and a cascade of contemplations to sift through.