Ada was such a bright and cheerful, if non-sequitur girl that everyone immediately noticed her moping around the house. Maybe Charles was particularly aware of it because he was doing the same thing. The Sample house got gloomier by the day.

Finally, Charles had had enough. “What we need is a vacation,” he announced.

Ada perked up. “I want to paint France,” she announced. So Charles bought the tickets, and off they went.

Ada made short work of setting up her easel, and passersby stopped to watch her unusual creative style.

Charles left her to her passion and took a while to explore the quaint town. And met the kind of reception he was accustomed to seeing everywhere.

It was really getting old.

“Hello! Wow, you’re really something special! Where are you visiting from?”

Charles looked up from an awkward exchange with the Special Merchant to meet a pair of shining, curious eyes.

“Hello! I’m Berthe Girard. You must be a tourist because I know I would have remembered seeing someone like you.” She reached out her hand for his without hesitation.

Charles took it. “Charles Sample. I’m here for the week from Sunset Valley.”

“Really! Where is that?”

They had a bit of smalltalk about tourism and home and then turned to go their separate ways.

As he turned to go, it suddenly occurred to Charles that he was being an idiot. Here was an attractive woman who wasn’t the slightest bit frightened by him. Why wasn’t he trying to get to know her better?

“Berthe?” he called after her. “If you happen to have some free time, would you be willing to show the sights to a couple of tourists?”

Berthe turned around and gave him a bright smile. “For you, I’ll make the time!”

So Charles gathered up Ada and made introductions, and Berthe drove them to the local nectary, cheerfully chattering about local history as they went. She painted a picture with words that almost matched Ada’s canvas.

“This place has been making nectar the old fashioned way for over a hundred years,” Berthe said. “I can show you what I like best, but I think you should try everything. Don’t let the nectarers make you feel guilty. That’s what nectar tasting is for!”

So they had a sip, and then another, and then another, and soon they found that they had run out of conversation and were just staring into each other’s eyes.

Ada, meanwhile, found the nectary tour guide and told him all about how the orbital mind control lasers programmed grapes so that when people drank the nectar they would vote for certain political parties.

The tour guide seemed to take the whole story with equanimity. “All right, then,” he said when she’d run out of steam. “I can do you one better. Have you ever heard of the Zombie of Chateau Nectary?”

“No!” Ada said. “Who is that?”

And he told them.

It was the only thing Ada could talk about for hours afterward. “We have to be careful!” she told Charles more than once. “Did you know that after they saw the zombie, the children were never seen again?”

“I have to go to work tomorrow,” Berthe said reluctantly. “I hope you’ll drop by again before you head home.”

“Definitely,” Charles said, breaking out of the nectar haze. He gathered up Ada, and Berthe drove them to their hotel.

The next day, Ada woke Charles up just past dawn. “Today, you’re going to go with me to the Muse D’Arte!” she announced. “There’s nothing like it in the world. A little more art will do you good.”

Charles’s thoughts were elsewhere, so he just went where Ada told him to go.

“These are the masters,” Ada declared. “I have to learn to be this good or nobody will remember my art.”

So she set up her easel in the middle of the museum and started to work. Everyone was so surprised that nobody told her to stop.

In the evening, she got tired. The bed of Queen Chartreuse XII was out on display without even a rope dividing it from the spectators. It looked so comfortable that Ada had to try it out.

In the morning, she woke to a crowd of astonished onlookers. She smiled at them. “What a great night’s sleep! This museum has such nice hospitality!”

Charles, meanwhile, took advantage of his ghostliness to get up close and personal with the Egyptian exhibit after hours.

Some places were better off unexplored.

Charles left Ada absorbed in the museum and took his time exploring ancient burial mounds nearby. When he returned he drifted into the antiquities dealer and gift shop to sell some of his finds.

There, a charming music box caught his eye. Inside, a clockwork ballerina danced alone to a romantic tune, seeming to beckon the watcher to join her.

“How much?” he found himself asking.

“Less than what you just offered to sell me,” the merchant pointed out.

Something in the ballerina’s dance touched Charles’s heart, and he found himself trading for it more antiquities than it could possibly be worth.

The vacation was ending at last. Charles and Ada’s flight departed the next day. Berthe had been on his mind for the entire trip. At last he took a deep breath and dialed her number.

“I was hoping to see you again before I left,” he told her. “Would you like to meet me at the cafe?”

“Of course I would!” Berthe replied on the other end of the line.

So they met again where they had met the first time. This time, they sat at the table and laughed over coffee. Conversation came easily.

Charles thought of the music box in his bag. It was a gift for a hoped-for lover. Should he give it to her?

Being with Berthe was….

…almost as wonderful as being with Veronica.

Then he knew. He couldn’t ask anything of Berthe because he wasn’t free to ask her. He had to tell Veronica how he felt.

“I have to pack my bag,” he said at last. “Our flight leaves bright and early. Thank you so much for showing me and my sister around the town. You’ve been… you’ve been a great friend.”

Something flashed behind Berthe’s eyes. “A friend,” she said evenly. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

The last of their visit was awkward. Charles watched her go, wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

No, this was the way it had to be. He was done being a passive gentleman. He couldn’t step aside and lose the woman he loved because he never let her know.

It was time to go home.

———-

France was so much fun. Lance never went here except a quick trip when he was a teenager because the best tombs and swag aren’t in France. So I got to explore it essentially for the first time.

Berthe was almost perfect. She had fun personality traits, she was Brave and thus not afraid of Charles, she had a LTW I would have enjoyed, and she was single. Plus, she was game-generated. Plus the two of them got along like a house on fire. I’m sure her Charismatic trait didn’t hurt their relationship. Charles should have married her on the spot. Instead, as soon as he talked to her, he rolled a wish to go home. Charles the adventurer wished to go home. If I were going to look for my sim to tell me who he wanted, that seemed like the best hint I was going to get. Plus, hey, Veronica got most of the votes anyway :).

Actually, Charles ran into two more Brave French folk: the antiquities vendor and a random guy playing chess on the plaza. Clearly France was the place he should have gone mate hunting a lot earlier.

I thought Ada looked adorable while listening to the ghost story!

The bit with the music box was from a couple of wishes Charles had. He wanted to buy a music box, and he wanted to give Veronica a gift. I thought they went together nicely.

“It’s a girl!” Shanni was breathless on the phone when she reported the news to the family.

“Now she’ll go stir-crazy on maternity leave,” Zahra remarked under her breath. “Mark my words.”

Ada took it upon herself to get Shanni out of the house at least a little bit. She persuaded her aunt to meet her at the Art Museum for a short, low-stress turn through the traveling exhibit.

“Here’s little Jeannette!” Shanni showed off her and Agnes’s daughter with eyes that glowed with pride.

And if there were a few dark circles under those eyes, well that was just the price of admission.

“I brought you a gift,” Ada said. “It’s an apple from grandma’s garden.”

“You, um, wrapped up apple to give me?”

“Sure. It’s the thought that counts. I thought you needed an apple.”

(If you’re wondering where Jeanette is in this shot, she’s lying on the sidewalk. Why wouldn’t that be the best place for her?)

“You have that crazy look,” Ada remarked to Charles one morning over breakfast.

Charles raised his eyebrows. “*I* look crazy? All right. I was thinking about doing some more traveling.”

“OK. Where are we going?”

“Well, Granddad taught me everything I know about the art of Sim Fu. It changed my life. I was thinking about going back to China to study under the masters.”

“I’ll get my paints,” Ada said.

So Charles made the arrangements.

And soon they were checking into a lovely Chinese hotel.

Fortunately the dress code was flexible.

Granddad had told them all about the beautiful Zen Scholar’s Garden, so that’s where they headed first.

Ada almost exploded with painting enthusiasm. There was no place to rest her eyes that didn’t belong on a canvas.

Though her artistic interpretation was sometimes…. interesting.

Charles made a beeline to the koi pond.

With pretty good results.

After the first day, he finally had had it with his hair getting in the way. He cut it back to his old style.

The next morning, Ada woke him up with a surprise. “Get up bright and early, sleepyhead! Vacation is no time for rest!” Sometimes he couldn’t tell if she was joking or being serious.

Then they went their separate ways. Ada headed off in search of subjects to paint.

Charles found his way to the Martial Arts Academy.

As he approached the entrance, he ran into the Special Merchant, who proved that China was not any more comfortable with his kind than Sunset Valley.

But the Academy itself was a haven. It was filled with other martial artists just as passionate as he was.

“Hello!” a woman called in greeting. “I’m Amelia! From France!”

“Are you talking to me?”

To his surprise, Charles found himself pulled into the excited chatter of a fellow traveler. This almost never happened to him. Even now that he was visible and fairly solid, most people still reacted to him as if someone had, well, walked over their grave. It was a while before Charles could even focus on what she was saying.

Amelia was full of advice about the best places to stay and the best bargains at the market.

“What I’m really looking for is a Sim Fu master,” Charles confessed. “Someone who can teach me the secrets of the art.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m just a beginner. But I’ve heard folks talk about a Zhang Wu. He’s supposed to be pretty hot stuff.”

Charles thanked her and went off in search of Wu.

A few inquiries brought him to the home of a man not much older than himself.

Wu was an attractive, charismatic guy. He made Charles feel comfortable and at home immediately. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d ever met who was so easy to talk to. It was enough to make Charles wonder if he was serious about Sim Fu at all. Well, that is, until Charles persuaded him to spar.

They were touch matches, but it was clear who was the better martial artist. After trouncing Charles four consecutive times, Wu panted, “You’re amazing! Have you ever considered opening your own dojo?”

Charles was taken aback. “No. I’ve never considered that.”

“I’m going to be out your way sometime this year,” Wu confessed. When I’m on your side of the ocean, I’ll look you up. We should spar some more.”

Charles smiled comfortably. Other than Jabari, he didn’t have any friends outside his family. It was amazing to find such a connection with another person. “I’d love to get another chance,” he confessed. “You taught me a lot. But do you mind if I ask a personal question.”

Wu flashed a blinding smile. “Shoot. I reserve the right not to answer.”

“Well, do you notice anything…. different about me?”

Wu chuckled. “Of course I do. You’re some kind of spirit man. But people come from all over the world to study with me here. You’re not even the weirdest thing I see before breakfast.”

Charles thought about Wu as he explored the Tomb of The Dragon’s Maw.

Wu was an amazing master of Sim Fu. He was clearly much better than Charles, but he didn’t think that Wu was offering false praise. He had the feeling that Wu’s praise was actually pretty difficult to earn.

He probably should have paid a little more attention to what he was exploring.

As he ran screaming headlong into dive well filled with scummy water, Charles learned one important thing about his ghostly nature.

He had no idea if it could kill him, but fire HURT.

“What do you think of this dojo idea?” He asked Ada when he met her in the marketplace for lunch.

“I can’t talk now,” Ada said. “I have to finish this painting while my subjects will stand still.”

“Your subjects? You mean those canopic jars?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how long they’ll sit. They get restless.”

“Oh.”

She did manage to finish the picture in time.

Back at the hotel, he ran into a familiar face.

“Charles Sample! Remember me? Amelia? From France?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the advice. I found Wu, and he was amazing.”

“I can’t let you leave without getting your phone number. We travelers need to look out for each other. You really must come to France sometime and meet me!”

Charles had initially been thrilled that a woman he was not related to was so comfortable around him, but that quickly melted away to a new kind of discomfort. Amelia was Mom’s age, and her friendliness was starting to sound like something else.

She called him four times before he left China, and after that he screened his calls.

He was still thinking of Wu’s advice as they readied for the return home.

What would it take to open a dojo? What would he need? Was it something that could be turned into a career? Would anyone want to learn Sim Fu from a half-ghost anyway?

One thing he was sure of was that he was never taking a bath like that again. It might feel luxurious, but it took him forever to shake the guilt over how much water it wasted.

“This was amazing!” Ada gushed as they boarded the plane for home. “China has inspired me to write an epic novel. I’m going to call it Kiwis of Peace.”

“Kiwis? What about China makes you think of Kiwis?”

Ada frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”

Charles gave his sister a hug. “Don’t worry. I know it will be a great book.”

———-

Heh. I think I had too many things going on in this post.

One simple bit of CC that I can no longer imagine playing without is the Portable Easel. Since Sims 3 is open world, I was kind of dumbfounded when Lance took up painting and I discovered he could only do it on his home lot. Why have the option of painting a landscape when it can only be your own back yard. Dragging Ada around to paint the travel landscapes is a ton of fun.

Charles is back to the Battler hairstyle! And now his glasses are gold. His skin is silver. He hardly needs more silver.

Eco-friendly sims are hilarious. Charles took a serious mood hit for taking a bath!

Ada developed an obsession with an upperclassman named Lavar Andrews from her literature class. She looked up his phone number on the school directory and started calling him, trying to persuade him to join her at the art museum. Not anything like a date, really.

Lavar never seemed to have time to talk to her. Then he stopped answering her calls at all. What was wrong? Didn’t the Orbital Mind Control Lasers want him to notice her?

One day, she decided to take matters into her own and called his house. “Oh, yes!” Mrs. Andrews said cheerfully. “Lavar’s home and just watching the television. Come on over?”

But when she arrived, he wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Andrews said nervously. “He had to dash out to the store. Maybe another night?”

“I’ll wait for him,” Ada said. And she did.

“I really think you ought to head home, young lady,” Mrs. Andrews said coldly when curfew got close. Ada had to leave without seeing Lavar. The Mind Control Lasers were playing tricks on her.

Charles had heard good things about the fish in the graveyard lake, so he headed out one bright morning to see for himself.

He had the place to himself, except for an old busker and his audience of one.

The graveyard…. What an interesting place to busk.

And there was something terribly odd about the guy who was listening.

(Why yes, that is Sean!)

The fish weren’t biting terribly well, so Charles settled down for a long day. He should have been enjoying himself, but there was something odd in the air. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Look!” someone shouted. “In the sky! Get out of there!”

Charles looked up and was paralyzed at the sight. An enormous asteroid, wreathed in flames, was hurtling out the sky toward him.

He should have teleported away, but his mind was empty. His life flashed before his eyes.

Then it hit.

Crimson light flashed. The air was filled with dirt, debris, flame. Then it settled down around him.

He hadn’t felt anything. The asteroid had hit him dead on. He was standing in its crater. He should be dead….

…Unless he already was?

Charles was half-mortal, half-ghost. His skin was warm, but he could feel the pull of the Netherworld that his father had returned to. What was he, really?

He looked across the lawn and locked eyes with the mysterious man he had seen earlier.

They had something in common, he knew suddenly. They were both not quite alive and not quite dead. He didn’t know what the man was, but he wanted to know more.

“Hi, I’m Charles,” he said awkwardly, closing the distance with his hand outstretched.

“What the hell was that?” the stranger said by way of greeting.

Then he collapsed at Charles’s feet. Charles started to check his vitals, but he knew that he wouldn’t find anything. The man was all right, just stunned.

There was more metallic debris lying around the graveyard than Charles had ever seen in his life. He gathered up the scrap to bring home to Mom. She might not need to go back to the junk yard for inventing materials for the rest of her life.

He hauled the meteor itself home and placed it in the lawn as a decoration.

———

OOOOOK. The way this played from the other side of the keyboard:

“Oh, hey, it’s a meteor! I’ve never had a meteor in the game. That’s awesome!”

“Wait. It’s really headed for Charles’s head. I’ll just teleport him out of the way.”

“They won’t let him teleport!! They’re just going to make him stand there and wait? What the heck??”

“Ohmigod ohmigod. Charles is going to die! This can’t be happening! What am I going to do?”

“Dur….?”

*pantpantpant*

So, I’m pretty sure a direct hit was supposed to kill him, wasn’t it? He wasn’t harmed at all. He didn’t event get the soot-face explody hair. I have to assume that’s because he’s a ghost kid?

Gawping at the meteor is apparently like a birthday party. It seems to preempt everything else in the queue, and it can’t be canceled. I don’t understand why you get so much warning if you can’t run away. Bah. Or maybe I was too clever to try to teleport, and he’d’ve responded if I’d just told him to walk. Charles can’t actually run. He just floats at a very slow ghost speed, or he teleports.

It was pretty awesome to run into vampire Sean. 🙂