#paris royale

Which means it’s two years of sims storytelling for me too! Thanks for being such wonderful readers and friends!

Taking a break from the regular queue to provide you with a picture of everyone’s favorite rock boys in the infamous suit.

Note: This is AU Parista. Story Paris is probably 7-8 years older than Callie so the child/teen pictures would’ve been impossible.

Sometimes I miss these two, so you get midnight Parista pics from their last vacation together

I don't remember much of the days and weeks that followed. I know that Phoenix, Az, and Alula stayed with us all week. I know Uncle Ares helped plan the funeral and take care of the press, but I couldn't tell you a single thing that happened during it. I do remember Alula explaining to me the extent of Dad's health issues. That this wasn't a surprise, that it had been a possibility long before I was born, but he had done everything he could to stay alive for us. The reason that trip to Ogygia was so important to him was because he wanted us to have one memory of traveling with him. At the time I was furious they had hidden it from me, but I understand that they were trying to protect me, to protect what was left of my childhood. But my childhood died the day he did. There's all sorts of metaphors about death and what it does to those left behind that I could use to describe it, but you won't understand it until you loose someone that was such an overwhelming presence in your life that you don't remember how to breath without them there. Nothing would be the same, everything was wrong, and no one could fix it.

There were some days that it would be better if you could forget. Unfortunately, those are often the days you never can. It had been a nice normal fall day. We had all just returned from school, Phoenix had tagged along as always, and Az had managed to escape the store for a visit. She had brought dinner from Dad's favorite restaurant in town. Dad had been napping when we got back. It wasn't unusual by any means, though he had seemed a bit more tired recently. But Mom insisted it was just his normal health stuff – the weather changes was making his chronic pain flare up. That day, however, when Mom went to wake him up for dinner instead of hearing the laughter and kissing that usually occurred when they were out of our sight for a moment an anguished cry echoed down the hall. It was a sound you couldn't replicate, one you wouldn't want to. It was the sound of her heartbreaking, and I suspect it will haunt me for the remainder of my life. I can still hear it wringing in my head.