#aster doyle

(1918 – Near the end of WW1)

Despite the joyful moments of watching the children grow into young adults, and with America now in the war, life for the Doyles has slowed to a crawl.

The Doyle family found themselves making the same sacrifices as everyone else. Lucile's finances kept them comfortable, but her business did not emerge unscathed.

Rationing for the troops made certain foods, fabrics, and other necessities hard to come by. Of them all, the restriction on sugar hurt the most.

Sugar was essential for fermentation. The limits on how much she was allowed to purchase were nowhere near enough to continue work for the next season, and so reluctantly Lucile decided to put the business on hiatus.

If things grew tighter and the family's income failed to recover, she would sit them down and discuss it. For now, she had her backstock and private reserve to rely on.

With the winery temporarily closed, Lucile found herself with more time to spend at home. The streets outside were plastered with war posters but given it was a European war she preferred they not discuss it within their home. She believed the children needed peace if they were to focus on school.

Daisy had grown into a bookish young lady. She devoured romantic dramas and mystery novels with such fervor that she often spoke of them endlessly at the dinner table.

Now and then, Daisy would mention her own ideas and opinions about the stories, and the way she spoke gave Lucile the budding suspicion that her girl might be hinting at wanting to become an author.

Pride often filled Lucile's heart. Yet that pride was increasingly shadowed by another feeling, one that drew her thoughts back, again and again, to her father.

"Papa…" she sighed one quiet evening, standing by the fireplace.

"The children are nearly halfway through high school now," Lucile began, her words trailing off as Rosemary's voice carried in from the next room, reciting lines from yet another play. Lucile paused by the interruption then refocused on the portrait above the mantle.

"I am so proud of them," she murmured. "But I worry about their little passions and pastimes… what if they never grow beyond them? I'm glad they've had such luxuries, but I can't help wondering if the futures they choose will truly serve them."

Her gaze lingered on the family portrait before her shoulders slumped.

"I wish I could ask you if this is how you felt with Silas." she whispered. "It's been so long, and yet I still think of him. After everything he's done, he's still my brother. I can't help but mourn the life we might have had if things had been different…"

Lucile drew in a trembling breath.

"The children remind me of him, you know. Brilliant, all of them. They haven't show any special interest in the family business...which is fine it's never something I want them to feel forced to take on."

"But they've shown so little interest in anything else," she went on, shaking her head. "They live in their own small world… and I don't think they realize it’s shrinking."

"An author, an actress, and… well, I'm not entirely sure what Aster is meant to be. His room is a pigsty." A tired smile touched her lips. "But my point is, the world can be cruel. As much as I admire their passions, I don't see how any of them could become steady work. Not in times like these."

Lucile's brow furrowed.

"Even if they could, they're hardly mature enough for it. They've been at each other's throats all week.

"Yesterday, Rosemary blamed daisy for misplacing her comb, and Aster was certain one of his sisters had been in his room, disturbing his "perfectly organized chaos".

"I thought perhaps a firm talking to might help," Lucile continued. "I told them each was responsible for their own belongings, and that whoever had touched something that wasn't theirs ought to own up to it."

She sank into the stool beside the fireplace with a small, weary exhale.

"But still no one confessed."

Her gaze lifted again to her father's face in the portrait, as if he might somehow answer her.

"They're young, I know… emotions run high, "she said softly. "I just wish you or Ma were here to give me some advice. I don't know how to help them grow up any faster."

The Doyle Legacy 1919

As swiftly as America had entered WW1, it was over.

The troops were on their way home and by junior year, the Doyle siblings were staring down the same questions for the fifth time, the ones Lucile and Josephine kept gently but firmly putting on the table.

"Do you have a college in mind?" "What type of careers did you want to pursue?"

Lucile was ready to cover the cost for anything!

She wanted to give her children a comfortable head start in life but toward a dependable career...not some side hobby.

Three years into high school, it was disappointing to hear how unsure they remained about where they wanted to be after graduation. The children didn't mind spending hours on their hobbies going out with friends, and using their allowances on small luxuries like sweets and little gifts for themselves but when it came to the important questions they still hadn't decided what to strive for.

Did they expect her to always be around? To always have this money? If another war came and her business failed how would they support themselves or their own families one day? Those kinds of thoughts weighed heavily on her mind.

She had waited and waited, thinking responsibility would come with age, but it seemed the children needed a gentle nudge out of the nest.

It was time for a family meeting.

Aster Doyle - 1910s Lookbook ❤️😴

Sliders & Skin Details:

Eyelashes (TSR) | Teeth | Skinblend | Eyes (Facepaint) (TSR) | Skintones | Mouth Slider | Nose Slider | Mouth Slider 2 | Cheekbone slider | height slider | Chin slider |

Everyday:

Outfit | Hair

Formal:

Boys Bicycle outfit by Linzlu (Retired CC) | Socks | Hair | Shoes |

Athletics:

Hat | Shoes | Hair | Shoes | Outfit

School:

Socks | Shoes | Hair | Outfit | Backpack

Sleepwear:

Hair | Pajama suit

Party:

Boys Bicycle outfit by Linzlu (Retired CC) | Socks | Hair | Shoes |

Swimwear:

Hat | Swimsuit | Hair

Hot Weather:

Shoes | Outfit | Hair

Cold Weather:

The Bramblewood property was more mausoleum now than a home, a decaying monument to everything Silas had lost. Whatever frontier charm it once held or scraps of any family legacy that clung to the land, had been long gone after Silas tore it down.

Each storm dragged the place a little deeper into the earth. The greedy, waterlogged ground swallowed the foundation inch by inch, and with every gust of wind, the house groaned through its rotting bones.

The floor around him was a graveyard of empty bottles, their glass throats tilted upward in what felt like cruel laughter. This was where his money had gone, not to food, not to warmth but into the endless, fruitless search for Josephine.

He could have left. Should have.

Started over in some dusty nowhere. Changed his name. Worked with his hands. Survived.

But the idea of starting again, made something deep in him twist with rage. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was not the one to blame.

This was her doing....no, both of them. Josephine & Lucile.

He dropped his face into his hands. His body shook, but whether it was from fury or grief or the slow crawl of madness, even he couldn’t tell anymore. Those feelings had blurred long ago into something nameless.

… maybe he couldn’t brute-force his way through this one.

The thought slipped in quiet, like poison. For the first time he cracked jut a little.

Maybe there was still time.

He still had a skill, one worth something. Europe was at war. Men were dying every hour, and someone had to build things back up. Not as a soldier. But just a helpful hand that could pull him out of this grave. He was nearly 30, he could find a job, a place to live...maybe someone who could love him...If he couldn't find them then maybe-

A crack of lightning lit the walls in stark white. A heartbeat later, thunder followed... Silas flinched, and the his daydream was cut short.

He reached lazily for the nearest bottle. Just a swallow left would do. Even a drop. Just something to keep the thoughts from growing teeth.

He tipped it. Nothing.

"…Empty," he muttered.

Just as he was about to bless the wall with another bottle something about it caught his eye.

The label.

Meanwhile, at the Doyle estate.

Rose, Aster & Daisy celebrated their 15th birthday!

“They ought to be back by now…” Daisy murmured. "I bet the car gave out and sent ‘em flyin’ straight into a ravine,” Rose teased.

Daisy gasped, clutching her hands to her chest. “Rose, don’t say such things! Auntie says you can speak things into being.”

Aster frowned looking down at Rose who was laying across his lap “That doesn't even make sense. If it broke down, it would’ve stopped moving, how’s it supposed to fly into anything?”

“How do you know?!...You two have no imagination,” Rose huffed. “They’re fine. If anything bad happened, we’d know by now. Can’t you both loosen up? We’ve got the whole house to ourselves. We could do anything!”

“Like get in trouble?” Aster replied.

“We’re supposed to be in bed anyway,” Daisy added.

Rose rolled over onto her belly, “This is why y’all are no fun.”

“That’s why you always end up with switch marks,” Aster shot back.

“Wimp.” Rose teased, grinning.

“I’ll tell Mama you’re bein’ mean!”

“Tattletale.”

A pause settled and for a moment, the teasing seemed to have passed—until Rose slowly turned, caught Daisy’s eye, and silently mouthed the word: "Baby." to Aster.

“STOPP!” Daisy screeched.

“Shut up!” Aster groaned, clapping his hands over his ears. “Will you both quit it? Mama and Auntie Lucile are fine, Rose is just trying to get a reaction out of you.”

Rose flopped dramatically. “Ugh! I’m just so bored! They left us with nothing to do until morning. It's not my fault I can’t sleep.”

“....Well~” Rose sprang to her feet and leapt from the landing down to the ground below. “I’m goin’ swimmin’!”

Aster blinked. “You numbskull, it’s October. The water’s probably freezin’. Go on then, freeze to death.”

Rose spun on her heel, arms crossed. “Who cares? I’m old enough to decide for myself.”

“…Y’all can stay here like babies if you want. But I’m goin’.”

Rose was halfway down the hill when Aster cursed under his breath and started to follow after her, what kind of brother would let his sister march off alone? And Daisy, couldn’t bear to be left behind.

The path to the river was cool and the moon hung low behind the clouds. Aster’s grand plan of staying dry and keeping watch crumbled as soon as Rose started stripping down to her underthings.

“I'm not jumpin’ in.” Aster began looking over to see Daisy was already shimmying out of her gown, folding it neatly over a nearby rock.

“Fine." Rose called out, "Be bored and frozen if you want,” throwing her nightgown on the ground and wading confidently toward the water.

“…Fair point.” he muttered.

The water was cold, so cold it made their teeth chatter, but it was fun. Before long, they forgot they were sneaking out. Without any grown-ups around, their ideas started getting a little... reckless. Normally, after every swim, they’d jump off the cliffs beside Josephine or Aunt Lucile looking after them. So really, taking turns throwing each other off the edge wasn’t that different.

1...2...3...

" GO! "

It was difficult for the children not to become distracted as they dressed in their new rooms. Back at the old house, Aster’s sisters were always noisy, slow to get ready, and sharing one small bathroom between the three of them had been a special kind of torment.

But not anymore!

Aster was positively over the moon to discover he had a bedroom all to himself, complete with his very own desk for schoolwork. The quiet was a blessing, and the novelty of privacy made him feel a bit more grown up.

The girls, on the other hand, were less thrilled. Though the house was grander, Daisy and Rosemary were still expected to share a room and a smaller one, at that.

They grumbled between themselves that if two people were sharing a bedroom, it only made sense for them to get the larger one. Still, they couldn’t deny the one silver lining that they would no longer be subjected to their brother constantly in their business.

That morning, Lucile treated everyone to breakfast at a fine tea house in town. The linens were pressed, the teacups delicate, and the pastries practically art. It was a lovely outing, though Rosemary needed a few pointed reminders that not every public setting was a stage for performance.