Generation 1- Afterword

Yes, I’m back to blabber more insignificant stuff, because most of last chapter wasn’t enough. You can skip this if you want.

The lines between generation are a bit unclear, though the second generation heir is born she won’t get much story of her own for now. I still have to finish Leo’s tale, that persistent sucker.

So far, the Winter family tree is very simple, it looks like this:family tree 1

Wow! How amazing it looks!

Unfortunately, I’ve never been very good at tracking an extended family, so future family trees won’t be very extensive. For now, there is no extended family, it’s all very easy and I’m very happy.

Secondly, to make up for the lack of screenshots and/or banner, I did a little sketch of Leo and Yuki looking all cuddly, because why not.leo and yuki

Leo doesn’t quite look like that, he kinda looks like Chen from EXO but I don’t dare draw him. As for Yuki, well. We all know what she looks like.

That’s all for now. I’ll be back next time I need to say useless stuff. Now to return to the story. On to generation 2!

1.11 Libra

Our baby girl was born in early April, when spring was in full bloom. She had her mother’s nose. My eyes. Her hair was a soft mop of black- just like Yuki’s underneath her blue.

“Perfect,” I said, as I held her in my arms.

“Perfect,” agreed Yuki. “What do we name her?”

“I don’t know,” I said. We hadn’t talked of names yet, thinking we would somehow know the right answer when the time came.

Yuki looked out of the window then turned to me. “The stars are bright tonight,” she said. “I can see Libra.”

I chuckled. “She’s not a Libra.”

“I know.”

My dearest Yuki. She always had the answers.


And that’s the end of generation one! Every legacy kinda starts off the same, doesn’t it, with a semi-hobo founder stone broke and passing out in the street, then they meet someone new, have a kid, then voila, generation two. But I always enjoy reading about gen 1 in a legacy story the most, because it sets the story up and shows you what you should expect. And this is what you should expect from Winter’s Alchemy, people! It’s never getting any better than this!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA

Thanks for putting up with a badly written story that’s set in a weird setting dislodged from any time period. What I was going for is that since a legacy is 10 generations long, I could start it somewhere near 1750 and work my way to the 21st century, except then I started to realize I knew nothing about the 18th century- in fact, a lot of things we take for granted today wasn’t a thing back then. Like, I found myself looking up things such as ‘1700s cafe’ and ‘1700s hair dye’. (Well there may have been hair dye back then but there certainly weren’t any bright blue.) Then I realized that women had like, no rights back in the day, and that all my female sims, including my female heirs, were going to end up as housewives. And that would have made it boring for me to write, so I set it in a sort of alternative timeline and now it all seems really weird and off. Well… I guess I failed on that count. Nothing I can do about it now.

On the game: I haven’t been playing Sims for long- I started about three months ago, in late September, and a while later in October I started playing this legacy challenge. Yeah, I haven’t played long, but I love this game. I’m totally addicted!! Not to mention inspired. So now I’m writing this.

On what happened so far: I played the Bjorgsens for a while before I started the legacy, and I didn’t really like the guy I got Sofia with, so I thought I’d make her a part of the legacy family this time round. As we all saw, that didn’t work. They didn’t actually kick me out because I was talking to Sofia- they kicked me out because they didn’t like me using the stove. (Then they finished and ate the food I paid for. Ugh.) Then Leo went off and fell in love with the less appreciated Behr sister, and it all went down from there. I really like Yuki. She’s a loner like me.

On screenshots: I don’t take screenshots because firstly, I play mostly plot-driven and I can’t be bothered sim-wrangling for poses, secondly, I’m too anxious perfectionist and screenshotting will take forever, and lastly, it’ll kill the slight bit of immersion the writing gives if they’re walking around in shorts and a t-shirt. So I really can’t prove that my characters did anything- you’ll just have to take my word for it. In fact, its likely things didn’t quite go the way I said they did…. heh.

On star signs: So the joke here is that you can’t see your star sign in the sky on your birthday, you can only see it when it’s approximately 6 months before/after your birthday. Leo, named for the star sign Leo in the sky on his birthday, is not a Leo (he’s probably an Aquarius). However, this is only true in the northern hemisphere. It’s the opposite in the south hemisphere (and I live in NZ). But such things are mere technicalities, if anyone asks, this story is set somewhere in Europe. Or America. Or maybe this world’s astrology doesn’t work the same way as ours.

Cool, so I basically wrote more author’s ramblings than what I write on my actual posts. I should probably shut up now. Thank you to my roommate, who’s reading this (and who knows all of this already), and see you again in generation two.

1.10 Golden Sand


When I look back on those years, it seems like time slipped through my fingers like golden sand; smoothly, roughly, beautifully, painfully, none of it left behind.

Even after years of trying Yuki and I had no children- something that bought us sorrow, but one we refused to share. One night I heard Yuki crying in bed, muffled under the covers, and I took my violin outside and played until she was done. When I came back in she smiled at me as if nothing happened, and I smiled back. A failure of a husband I was, pretending not to notice her red-rimmed eyes, when we both knew it was something that could not go unnoticed. Still we resolutely did not talk about it, both of us stubbornly trying to hide our own pain for the sake of the other, both knowing it wasn’t working.

I had given up in my heart any hope of ever having children, and on some days I found myself thinking that that was okay. One day we will both stop trying, and be happy with what we have as we grow old together. Some things, I told myself, aren’t meant to be, no matter how much you wish otherwise.

Apart from that, everything was going better than I had hoped. My old shack was no more, for one thing. It was now replaced with a modest house. Small, but nothing like the crude thing I had cobbled up when I moved back here.

My career, too, was flourishing. My violin skill has improved greatly since my lamentable debut. Two or so years ago I had joined the local symphony orchestra, giving us much more stability than a solo hired violinist.

So all in all, things were looking up for us. When more time passes, we’ll find it in our hearts to let go of what we can’t have and be happy. That’s what I thought to myself.


On the week before our fifth wedding anniversary, I was moved up to first violin in the symphony orchestra. I came home and hugged Yuki and we danced in joyous circles around the living room.

Yuki laughed breathlessly. “I never knew you were such a good dancer.”

“It’s not something you see often,” I said. “But those who have seen it all agree…”

We slowed until we were merely holding each other while turning slowly on the spot. I couldn’t stop stroking her silky smooth hair, still dyed the same vibrant blue as when we had first met. Still beautiful. Still lovely.

“Leo?” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

“Mm hmm,” I mumbled back.

“We’re going to have a baby.”

1.9 Winter Snow


When my mother came to this land she came seeking new opportunities. All she found instead was the bitter reality of an outsider. She was too different from everyone else here, no matter how much she tried.

Her differentness was passed down to her daughters. My sister embraced her differentness and it empowered her; for me it was something that put a barrier between me and the rest of the world. My sister was amazing. There was no one I looked up to more, and she will always be my inspiration. But on some days, days like today, I was tired down to my bones for my inability for be like her.

As I sat on a sheltered park bench, gazing aimlessly at a gray horizon, a figure appeared- Leo, holding his violin case above his head in a poor attempt to ward off the rain. I didn’t feel much at all as I watched him run through the rain towards me. “Did you come here looking for me?” My voice sounded cool, detached.

“Of course I did.” He shook his head to flick off raindrops. “You didn’t come. I got worried.”

The sharp sting of tears broke through the numbness as I started to cry. “I… I had a fight with my sister,” I said into my hands. “I’m so lost, Leo, I can’t find a place I belong. I’m so tired of that but I’m tired of looking.”

“That’s not true,” he replied with heat in his words. “There will always be a place you belong. I don’t know what you fought about but I’m sure she still loves you, and… You have a place with me, if you want it.” He took a deep breath and took my hand in his. They were trembling, from the cold or nerves I did not know. “Yuki, I love you. Will you marry me?”

I smiled and buried my face in his shirt, the dampness mingling with my tears. “Yes, I would like to, Leo. Very much.”



When Yuki first told me her name, I had asked what it meant.

“My mother named me,” she said. “In her native tongue, it means snow. She used to call me Behr Yuki instead of Yuki Behr, because they always put their family name first.”

As I held her upon the pavement wet with rain it occurred to me that maybe it made sense, not by coincidence but by simple laws of nature, for us to be here together. Snow and winter, my Winter Snow.

1.8 With a Vengeance


The rainy season was back with a vengeance.

Over the past three years I had steadily expanded my shack and reinforced it, so the water didn’t quite manage to drip through the ceiling- instead it kind of soaked into the wood and caused it to rot, despite the treatment it had been given. I’d saved up a fair amount of money though, and as soon as the rain ended I planned to hire contractors to demolish my shack and build a proper house in its stead.

And maybe then…

For the whole past three years, Yuki has stayed with me. During that time I learned far more about her than I have ever known about anyone else. I was closer to her than I have ever been with anyone else. On the days I didn’t go to work, we spent most of our time together. Taking walks in the park, visiting old chapels, or most often, sitting in her sister’s coffeehouse with a book and two cups between us.

Alchemy was always a common interest, but we always had a plenty of other things to talk about. I loved Yuki for the way she listened as much as I loved her for the things she had to say. Conversation was easy between us in a way it hadn’t been with Sofia.

I met Sofia again at a park a few months after I was relieved from the Bjorgsen’s employ, and she surprised me by apologizing about how it had all ended. Ever since then, we had been friends, though it was a sort of wary friendship on my part. The wariness never went away.

I sat at the coffeehouse and waited like I always did, upon a promise Yuki made the day before, one that she never broke: “I’ll be here tomorrow, Sir Alchemist.”

But she never came.

1.7 Alchemy


I carefully unstuck the pages of the notebook and turned them, one by one. The paper was yellowed and brittle, and made a heart-lurching crack as the pages separated. Still, the writing was legible. Barely.

“What are you reading?”

I jumped, startled. Yuki stood behind me, leaning forward to read the writing on my notebook.

“Goodness Yuki, you surprised me,” I said with a little laugh.

Yuki didn’t reply, instead she leaned forward further and said, “It’s a recipe to make the potion of youth.”

“You can read this?” I asked, staring at her in wonder.

Her cheeks coloured. “I may know a thing or two about the subject, yes. Alchemy, that is. Silly, I know…”

“No, not at all,” I said hastily. “I’m fascinated in it myself. Case in point.”

“May I?” she asked, pointing to the notebook.

“Be my guest.”

She sat down across from me and carefully turned the pages. She somehow managed to do so with much more ease than me, her fingers delicately playing over the fading ink. “These are so old,” she said. “It’s a shame how all the alchemists died out.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes. I think these old alchemists were really onto something, but after a while the something got lost.”

If only she knew. “Could you help me read these?”

“Sure. But where are they from? And why do you need them?”

“They’re antiques I found in my old family basement. I’m just reading them because… because research purposes.”

“Research purposes,” she repeated. “I should just call you alchemist from now on.” Smiling, she turned back to the page I had been on and began to read.

1.6 Are You Sure?


“The rain is much less heavy these days,” said Yuki, sipping her tea that smelled faintly of peppermint.

“I guess the rainy season’s ending,” I replied regretfully. It was a ritual of ours, sitting at the cafe quietly contemplating the rain with a warm beverage between our hands, looking out the window rather than at each other.

But as the rain waned, I found myself looking at her more and more. Her hair had stopped being startling, instead, it reminded me of the clear sky I missed. “Yuki, when the rain ends…”


“Would you like to have coffee somewhere else? With me?” The words tumbled from my mouth almost incoherently. I was sure my face was on fire.

She looked at me with a barely suppressed smile. “What’s wrong with the coffee here?”

“Nothing, it’s just… Then at least let me pay for you?”

“Thank you for the offer but…” She was grinning now. Broadly. “My sister owns this coffeehouse and all my drinks are free.”

“Oh.” Was I dead? Had I spontaneously combusted?

“But I don’t like her café au chocolat. If you take me somewhere that makes it good, I won’t mind. As long as you don’t ever tell her.” She tilted her head to one side, her eyes dancing with laughter.

I swallowed. “Okay,” I said, managing a wobbly smile. “It’s a deal.”

“Good.” She decisively closed the book she had open in front of her, though she hadn’t read a page since I came in, and stood up. “I had better be off now, but see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’ll be here.”

With a last smile and chiming of the door, she was gone.


The rain really was dying. In the brief spells of dryness between squalls, I had slowly but steadily repaired the roof so there were no leakages left. Still I went to the coffeehouse every day. It had taken me a while to realise it was to see Yuki, and once I knew, there was no way I could stop.

That night, I lay in bed, cheeks aching as the corners of my mouth wouldn’t come down.

I was going to step out with Yuki.

I was going to another coffeehouse with her and drink café au chocolat with her!

As an aside, her sister owned the coffeehouse? That would explain the liberalness. I had not seen her so far, as the worker behind the counter was always a man, but if I did I should try to make a good impression.

I turned over to extinguish the lamp, and caught sight of the suit of armor, staring back at me through its empty visor. Are you sure? It seemed to be asking. He wanted it to die with you.

But it’s my life, not his, I replied silently to a question it never asked. And see how he wasted his. I turned off the lamp and deliberately rolled over so I was facing the wall.

The alchemy will not die with me.

1.5 The Rainy Season


People often think of the Grim Reaper as a thin man in a black cloak with his hood drawn up, hiding his skeletal face. I suppose it makes a lot of sense, since that’s what people see when the Grim Reaper is bored enough to show himself to them. But I know better.

Even before my mother fell ill, she was haunted by the Reaper. She didn’t seem to mind though. They would sometimes sit for hours in the tea garden, talking to each other like old friends. And maybe they were.

My father never saw him, but I couldn’t help but see him. One of my earliest memories is running up to my mother while she was talking to the Reaper. I must have been eying him curiously.

“Your youngest?” the Reaper asked.

My mother shook her head. “My only,” she said. Her face, smiling a second ago, was sombre.

Anyway, what I am trying to say is there is a misconception about the Reaper. He is always in a tattered black cloak, yes. He’s thin and tall(ish), and somewhat intimidating (to a child), and always keeps his hood up. But under the hood, his hair is bright auburn.


I was woken by water dripping through the boards of the ceiling onto my face. My haphazardly cobbled together shed I called my house was barely withstanding the wind and the rain from the rainy season that had started two weeks early.

I was in no state to fix it. For one thing, I caught a cold on day one of the rain and now every little draft had me shivering uncontrollably. Also, I didn’t think I had the skill to make it any better even if I tried. So I did what I always did. I avoided it.

A few minutes later, I was dripping wet as I ascended the steps to a coffeehouse. It was pleasantly warm inside, and I could almost feel the water droplets forming a haze around me as they evaporated. The reception I got from the house was… not so warm. Or rather, everyone was far too occupied with an anomaly that had occurred.

On the far side of the coffeehouse there were half a dozen businessmen, each muttering under their breath and casting uncomfortable glances across the room. It was obvious what they were looking at. By the window was a lady who had bright blue hair. She sat, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, reading a book.

A lot of thoughts flew around my head in the space of what could be no longer than a few moments. Were women not banned from this coffeehouse? (Must not be, but there was a good chance they would be after today.) How did she dye her hair? It sure wasn’t natural. How was she so calmly reading in a tense atmosphere like this? And most importantly, where did I sit?

I decided to pretend she wasn’t there. I took a seat not too far from the window, but not too close to the businessmen either. The seat I would have taken if the lady had not been there.

After a few minutes of sipping my coffee, the businessmen began to get up. They caused a quiet ruckus, juggling umbrellas and suitcases and coats in their arms as one by one, they headed out of the coffeehouse. None of them forgot to shoot a glare at the lady as they left.

“It’s a shame. They made good company.”

I looked at the lady. She had not looked up from her book, but it had to be her that had spoken. There was no one here except her and me.

“Yes, I quite liked the friendly way they smiled,” I replied. It was probably a mistake to answer, but I couldn’t help it when I saw the grin playing on her face. Also, I was stranded here, so why not be nice?

“Are you here because it’s raining?” she inquired.
“I suppose I am,” I said, and I realised I was glad for the company, and that I hadn’t been so relaxed in weeks. We sat, sipping our coffee and gazing out the window, as the rain eased and the sky cleared, as I wished for the rain to fall forever.

1.4 Sofia (The End)


“I was named for the constellation that was especially clear in the sky the night I was born,” I explained.

“So you’re a Leo?” asked Sofia, her head tilting questioningly.

“No, far from it,” I replied. “See, if you are born under a constellation, you won’t see that constellation until about six months after your birthday. They are placed along a theoretical line in the sky, you see, where the sun travels through, so they’ll only be in the sky during the day so you won’t be able to… I’m not doing a very good job of explaining myself,” I finished sheepishly.

She laughed, and her laugh was better than music. “That’s alright. I think I get what you mean.”

She probably didn’t, but that was really more of my fault.


We both turned like startled rabbits to see Bjorn striding down the hallway towards us, his expression tense. “Why are you here?” he said with quiet authority to his daughter, not sparing me a single glance.

“I was just asking him what he was playing papa,” she said, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I thought it sounded lovely.”

“That conversation has gone on long enough,” snapped Bjorn. He turned to me. “It is inappropriate. Please stop.”

I took a deep breath, readying myself to defend Sofia. To say whatever I had to say, though I was never a great speaker, but those words were never said.

Sofia finally raised her eyes from the floor. “You’re right,” she said, in a small voice. “It is inappropriate. Maybe it’s best… if you leave.”

I stared her, speechless, though at the same time, wondering why I felt so betrayed. Was it because I thought we were friends? Because I never thought she would dismiss me like this? Was it the fact that SHE was dismissing me? Because I didn’t feel like this was something that should lead to a dismissal?

But really, why was I so shocked? We were never friends, not really. She only talked to me because I was obliged to listen, though I would have listened otherwise. I was the poor entertainer in their employ, without any funds, without even a shack to call my own. It was easy to cut me out and replace me if I became uncomfortable, like a rickety chair. And let’s be honest, I didn’t even play very well.

I left without a word. All the way back to my barren lot I didn’t look back. My hand, clutched around the neck of the fiddle, were white at the knuckles.

As I stood like I did on the day I moved back here, surrounded by the empty foundations of my ancestor’s home, I contemplated on new beginnings within new beginnings. It was time to start over, and this time, I would not run from this land I had fought to reclaim.

It was night by the time I dragged the last of the planks to my lot. By the time I laid the foundations, crudely, my arms were aching and my back would barely straighten. I looked up at the sky. The rainy season would not start for a few weeks yet, but it would not be a good idea to dally. The stars seemed unnaturally bright tonight.
I gritted my teeth and began to nail the planks together.

1.3 Sofia (The Middle)


“That was a beautiful piece,” she said, and her blue eyes made my head swim. “What is it?”

All thoughts in my head skidded to a halt. What was I playing? Was it some sort of Bach or one of those Mozart’s?

She noticed my hesitation and laughed. “It’s alright. I don’t really care what it’s called. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Which, of course, made me blush like a fool.

She loved music, she told me. She would have been a musician if her parents hadn’t disagreed. Her sister, Elsa, was naturally more intelligent than her, while she was more of the trouble child.

I listened to all her problems. I listened to her hopes, her dreams, her fears and worries, her idle thoughts and taste in ice cream.

I listened and didn’t say much. If she needed a friendly ear then I was happy to provide. About a month or so after she first approached me, she watched as I finished a Handel piece with merely acceptable skill. When I was done she said, “I never thought to ask. What’s your name?”

And with the question came a memory.


We were stargazers, all of us, when my mother was still with us. One night we were stargazing together, my mother and I, and she pointed out the constellations one by one. “Winter,” she said, “Do you see that constellation there?”

This was not the first time she had asked me that, nor would it be the last. But ever so close to the last, so close. I nodded, the grass below my head tangling in my hair.

“That’s Leo,” she said, and though I had heard this story many times already, I still listened. “I wanted to name you for it because it was so clear on the night you were born, but your father wanted to name you Winter instead, because you were born in winter.” She smiled. “He was always so straightforward.”

The next time she told me the story was as she lay dying, her fingers skimming through my hair as she smiled. Bedridden, she could not see the stars except through the corner of her window, but she had told me to open the window and look outside. “Do you see the constellation there?” she had asked.

She died the day after, and we burnt her body and scattered her ashes along a river.

A few years later, I packed my bags and left myself, leaving my father to his alcoholic fate.

Since coming back here, I had thought, in those hazy moments before sleep, that I should start over with a new name. A new life. I never entertained the thought in my waking hours since I hadn’t had to give my name to anyone until now. But if the girl in front of me wasn’t who I wanted to start my new life with, the one I wanted to tell my new name to, then who was?

I met Sofia’s gaze and tried to smile, though my stomach was tying itself into knots, trapping whatever fluttering thing was in it from escaping.

“Leo,” I told her. “Leo Winter.”