Jade Ojas, the aging Creator of the Ojas tribe had lived her life as a good and devout leader to the clan of the Ojas, and had never strayed from her path. She made three beautiful Ojas daughters, she would soon meet her first grandchild, and all households were thriving. But late in the night she found herself wandering the quiet halls of their homes, following beams of moonlight until they lead her to any of the local gathering places, always half hoping to see a familiar blue skinned face.
Alone, or with strangers. She must not let her daughters or any of their related Ojas women see her actively searching for a forbidden man outside of the tribe of Sheba they were keepers to.
The sun was rising on the white rocks of the falls, Jade had been quietly watching. She was no longer a young creator, and part of her considered life as a free woman. Life where she did not fear consequences from an ancient line of women, all resting now, women who would rise from their graves and torment her nights if she betrayed her Ojas duties.
Of course she returned to her bed, waking with the other Ojas women, and bustling about her day. She had a bubbly little granddaughter to snuggle, Amee. The perfect little heiress to the heir.
(*never found the CC/mod making my babies all lil whiteys, but aw well. Babies know no race!*)
One foggy day on the seashores, over celebratory treats mixed together with flour and sugar, she found herself old and achey from the salty winds blowing in from the Big Water. She was irritable and Sanchas was talking of the different customs she had seen their neighbors participating in.
There were many customs that the Ojas had kept secret out of fear, and they were customs that Jade fully expected Sanchas to honor when she passed into her restful sleep.
But soon the wheels of time rolled into place and Jade’s time had come and gone with the fog off the great big waters. She was with two of her daughters while passing, Sanchas, the great heir who would now lead the women, and Turid, her feisty little blood-thirst of a daughter.
She had done her best by Sanchas, and now she would have to join her mother and mother’s mother to watch over the Ojas from the sacred place in the sky. She would never know more of the handsome blue-skinned man from the great stars, and she would rest forever more.
The death of the Sixth.
*Moving forward I’m trying something a wee bit different. It’ll be more of the story of the whole sim’s life.*