Cindra asks Garrick
Cindra awoke, shivering dreadfully despite the heat of her body. Her face felt flushed and feverish from the proximity of the fire and her hands scorched by the flames. She took a deep breath trying to still the pounding of her heart and the churning in her stomach. It had just been another dream, however realistic.
She reached out blindly in the darkness for her husbands massive form. He was breathing heavily, snoring loudly, but she was glad of these mundane noises. Anything to make her forget that dreadful cry of suffering that was echoing in her head.
Isabelle… her name had been Isabelle. Cindra shuddered, fear clawing at her heart. That was the name her husband cried after his nightmares. The name that had haunted her life since his accident. And now this Isabelle was drifting silently through her head, invading her dreams each night in the dark. She would wake him, she couldn’t sleep anymore. Tonight she would know who Isabelle was so she could finally rest again.
“Garrick”, she whispered gently pawing at his back, “Garrick wake up… I’m scared… Garrick”.
He rolled onto his back, grunting in his sleep, batting her away with a giant hand. The unpleasant, stale smell of ale wafted from his open mouth, as he continued to snore. Her stomach turned at the sour stench and she sat up abruptly to get away from it.
She would light the candles. Perhaps that would wake him up. She stood up and was hit with a pain so intense she involuntarily cried out. She clutched at her stomach as a symphony of agony played through her abdomen, contracting all the muscles in her lower body, each one thrumming with its own note of pain.
After a moment the feeling subsided into a dull humming ache and she could breath again.
“Don’t kick me so hard next time little one”, she chided breathlessly.
She stumbled across to the other side of the bed and carefully lit each candle with her trembling hand.
She gazed down at her sleeping husband, studying the strong lines of his face, half-hidden in the darkness. He snorted gently and licked his lips, his mouth hanging half-open. Cindra could see thins strands of drool that had been caught in the wirey bristles of his copper-coloured beard.
“Garrick… Garrick… please wake up”, she began to shake him gently and when this solicited no response harder.
He woke suddenly with a shocked grunt and sat bolt upright in bed. Then he turned to her his bleary eyes blinking in the light. He wiped his mouth with his hand and tried to speak.
“Cind… Cindra… whatsh wrong”, he slurred, “Ish something wrong?”.
She couldn’t bear it. Tonight when she needed him here he was slobbering drunk again. She had been patient with him on the many nights he had stumbled to bed, or not come to bed at all, she had let him huimilate her in front of her friends. But it was too much tonight and she was tired and frightened and suddenly very very angry.
She turned her back to him and walked away from the bed trying to compose herself.
“What… what is something wrong?”, Garrick asked again.
She took a deep breath to prepare herself for the answer.
“Garrick”, she said as calmly as she could muster from between her clenched teeth, “Who is Isabelle?”.
She heard her husband gasp behind her, a dreadful sucking intake of breath combined with a gurgling sob that welled up from his throat.
She almost sobbed herself as her anger departed as quickly as it had built up, she had been wrong to ask. She should have just left him alone. She turned to take him in her arms and comfort him but was shocked to find him on his feet his fists clenched, his teeth bared, his face contorted into a grimace of rage.
“How dare you… you even mention her name!”, he growled, suddenly very sober, “Why do you ask me these things? What do you know of her?”.
Cindra was shocked at her husband’s behavior, but instead of being frightened her anger returned in a firey roar of heat, rushing up through her body and pouring out through her mouth.
“What do I know of her?”, Cindra repeated his words, “She is in my dreams every night, her pale face, her red hair… I can’t get her out of my head! Who is she!?”.
She was almost screaming now but she stopped abruptly when she saw the look on Garrick’s face.
His face had gone a sickly pale colour in the flickering light of the candle, his eyes filled with horror, his lower lip trembling. She could see that his entire body was shaking in rage or fear.
“You lie”, he whispered in terror.
“You lie!”, he repeated again this time shouting the words, “Is this one of your jokes Cindra? Your funny funny jokes! Well it’s not funny this time!”.
Cindra was so shocked she didn’t know how to respond. She had never seen her husband like this, her gentle giant who had never spoken an ill word to her, reduced to this roaring, drunken brute.
“I’ve had enough of your childishness”, Garrick hissed, turning his back on her.
She tried in vain to fight with the sob that was building in her throat. She couldn’t understand, why was he being like this. What had she done that was so wrong. Oh why did she think she should ask about her, about Isabelle.
But then an unpleasant thought that had begun to grow at the back of her mind weeks ago suddenly opened its beady black eyes. What had Garrick done?
Her question was answered with a throbbing staccato, that began in her pelvis and pounded its way up her spine. She grabbed desperately at her swollen belly, trying to end the awful feeling.
“Garrick… “, she moaned between sharp cadences of pain.
He did not turn around.
“What is it Cindra… I’m not in the mood for your crying wolf right now”.
The feeling continued to increase until it reached a crescendo of agony, scraping across the taught strings of her nerves.
A low groan began deep in her belly, accelerating upwards through her throat and forcing its way out of her mouth in a piercing shriek.
“What is it Cindra?”, he asked with irritation as he began to turn.
Then he saw his tiny wife bent over in pain, tears of agony and fright running down her chubby cheeks.
“Cindra… Cindra love”, his voice was suddenly gentle again, softly stroking at the vibrato of her pain, “Oh my darling… is it time?”.
Now his arms were gently rubbing hers as the spasms began to subside in a final strumming chord.
“I’ll go and get the women”, he walked calmly to the chest and began to pull on his clothes, all traces of his previous alcohol-fueled rage gone.
Cindra was weeping softly into her hands as he pulled her carefully into his arms, kissing her gently on the top of her head. She sobbed quietly against the warmth of his strong chest.
“I’m sorry”, he murmured into her hair and then kissed her on her cheeks and lips, “be strong my love”.
And then he was gone and she was left alone with her pain and her fears.
Oh no, that did not help the situation at all! Poor Cindra! It must be horrifying for him to hear about this, but still, he was such a brute with her. And what a time to go into labor! I hope the dream was not related to the proximity of her child’s birth… that would be really creepy. I’m still hoping for a boy.
So I think it’s pretty clear by now that Garrick is responsible for the girl’s death. I just want to know who she is!
That was so sweet, the line about the tears on her chubby cheeks. Poor little girl! So pinchable!
And I loved the symphony metaphors throughout. See, that’s where I am probably being a little weird… I occasionally come up with such ideas, but I don’t use them, because I think “They didn’t have symphony orchestras in the 11th century”. Even though it is nothing but a metaphor for the reader, and not part of dialog or anything. So I am stuck with bodies “thrumming like a harp whose every string has been struck”. They had harps then.
Oh, and… Shirtless Garrick! I think he’s drooling over his own hotness.
I know… poor little Cindra. She doesn’t know what too think about Garrick anymore. And he is behaving very badly but he is sort of fraying at the edges right now. He has nightmares unless he drinks himself into a stupor every night and now he finds out his wife is having the same nightmares as him, about someone she has never even heard of. He is a little bit freaked and drunk and tired so he reacted extremely badly. Also Cindra has a penchant for playing jokes on him and so he wasn’t sure if this was another one of them.
I didn’t really think of the symphony thing actually. I try not to use too many modern metaphors (eg. he was the best thing since sliced bread) but I guess I am not to worried about being a bit wrong. And I haven’t even set my story in a specific time and it is on a different world so maybe they had symphonys there
. Wow though… I didn’t realise you paid so much attention to detail that you would think about something like that. That is true dedication to the time Lothere. I’m impressed. And anyway “thrumming like a harp sounds nicer”.
And yes I am a big fan of shirtless Garrick. Actually at the moment the poor guy is running around his lot in the nude cause I was trying out those buyable “tummy hair” clothes
and I must have saved. I am so terrible. And it is winter too… poor guy.
I think a symphony is not jarring at all in the context. I am just pedantic that way. My bugbear is railroad metaphors it seems. I am always bumping into those and editing them out. And baseball!
I feel for poor naked Garrick. At the moment, everyone at Paul & Cat’s house is running around in their jammies, since I saved it that night when Flann woke up and everyone was unwakable. And everyone at Nothelm is still wearing formal clothes from the Christmas party of 1084! That’s what happens when you don’t “play.”
Hi. Oh dear poor Cindra. Garrick was certianally acting like a brute towards her. If Cindra’s dream about Isabelle gave any clues on how Isabelle died then could it be possible that she was burned at the stake for being a hertic (sp?) or a witch? or something like that.
Keep Simming!.
See ya.
Poor Cindra. I hope the baby will be alright – it seems like a bit of a coincidence that the dream and her going into labour on the same night. I’m disappointed in Garrick for acting so out of character (although he is turning into a different person) but at least he pulled it together enough to help Cindra in her time of need. I hope we get a post from his POV soon – I can’t wait to see what he thinks about the whole situation.
ITS BABY TIME!!!!!!!
I don’t think Garrick is acting too out of character, Speystar. He’s acting like himself, only drunk and haunted. He came through for Cindra once he figured out she was in labor. Did you see how he apologized and kissed her? He apologized! He totally redeemed himself right there for me. He knew he was acting like a jerk.
I love that picture of them hugging at the end. It’s a pain sometimes when you have a super-tall Sim guy and a super-short Sim girl, but other times it’s so precious. Eirik is often to be seen kissing Sigrid tenderly on the forehead.
That it is Devin… it is quite the baby month this month… we are still on the same month that began with Madlenka giving birth.
Yeah it is bit awkward when your sims are stuck in the past. I always feel a bit sorry for them wandering around in clothes they were wearing months ago. Valeriya still has her beat up face from when Radomir beat her. That’s just plain annoying cause I have to change it every time (now to a new beat up face… poor girl). Those wounds just don’t seem to be healing.
Garrick hasn’t been exactly himself lately hes’ usually fairly calm and level-headed and not that easy to irritate (he is married to cindra after all
but as Lothere said, alcohol and lack of sleep (and terrifying nightmares) tend to do that to a person. Also things haven’t been exactly hunky-dory on the island and nobody is feeling very at ease right now. Plus baby on the way (like waaay on the way) so there is the added worry that Cindra won’t make it through or the baby won’t… scary times.
I love the height difference too… you can get the cutest pictures that way. Can be difficult but it is worth it I think.
I actually like the very-different-height couples better than the ones that are just slightly off. The ones almost the same height just look like sloppy kissers, but the widely different ones do the forehead-kissing and the collarbone-kissing that is so cute with Eirik and Sigi. And one of my favorite pictures is still the one of naked Matilda hugging Leofric the first night they were together, where her chin is planted right over his heart.
My big complaint about the height differences lately is trying to get preview pictures for the banners. I can either get Eirik’s head or Sigi’s, but not both. I will have to start doing more pictures of them both lying down.
I love that picture too! I just went back and looked at it. And the line about how the arrow hadn’t managed to pierce his heart but her pointed chin had. *sigh*.
I know what you mean… I have so much fun with the massive height difference between these two. But with less difference it doesn’t end up as well and then you just get annoyed with the eyes not matching up and the slobbery all-over face kisses.
I hadn’t thought about that problem but now you mention I do remember that your last banner for them was rather zoomed… it still looked really good though… actually I can’t remember if they were both in it now… or was it just Sigi… hmmm…
Dunh dunh dunh! Now you can answer your own question, since I just put up a new page in the Info section that links to galleries of past preview banners. I know better than to link to it here, but you can get to it if you go to Verso, since I put up a little post about it there too. (Along with a shirtless man.)
I also put up a post the other day about changing a Sim’s genes, since you were asking about that. I managed to write it during my lunch break, since I was able to reuse old images of Yware’s DNA. (Though when I got home I added a new image of a shirtless elf.
)
It’s amazing how much alcohol can change a person’s actions… seems like Garrick has a bit of a guilty conscience though.