Circle of Eights, Stories

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      Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke. He’d just woven a wonderful dream —for all dragons and creatures do dream of course, even if most humans doubt it.

      Yawning, Naasir stretched out his long slithery body. Fully stretched, his body was an impressive sight to behold. He was quite old by human standards, while in fact, he was still in his youth, and could very well stay as rambunctiously lively for many other long centuries.

      He had given the final touch to a new world he had been creating in his dream time for many nights now, and was rather proud of it —even if dragons knew no such thing as pride, his feeling at this very moment was very akin to being proud.

      He had filled this world with many wonders, dragons of course, and other creatures yet to be named. And magic was all pervasive in that world, and so slightly cloaked, that it could be used by many.
      It would be a great playground he thought, for he was not a possessive and dictatorial dragon. In fact, he could feel some others were about to step in, and tell and live the story of that world.

      Sighing in delight, like a sleepy cat of majestic dimensions, he cuddled again, about to sink deeply into the harp music playing in his mind, ready to dream and let that story be told again…

      Another Never Ending Story

      Malvina. That name had been thrown into a conversation Yann and Quintin had had together, during which Quintin had felt images come into his awareness. He had instantly liked that name.
      He was feeling the aura of a woman, long hair of a pale rosy color, with a noble bearing. That name had been around, and they had played with it to find more impressions.
      And they had felt it linked to breeding of dragons, in a sort of rookery.

      They’ve both felt her connected to Malika, an online friend of them, whose gentle touch and kindly influence, as well as her passion for dragons seemed to fit in quite interestingly.

      Then on an impulse, Quintin had begun to paint an image around it, letting his feeling guide his movements. He’d loved the peaceful environment he’d drawn, and even if he was not wont to share “unfinished” drawings, he immediately shared the initial sketches with Yann and Fiona.

      They both loved it, and Fiona even considered for a moment adopting one of the cute baby dragons to be born.
      “Buckberry” : that was the name Quintin felt for the baby dragon… But he did not see any character in that picture for Fiona. She would have to decide to step in, to get that baby dragon. What character would she be? A young impetuous rude adventuress, or an o(w)ld wizened witch? Perhaps a bit of both?

      These thoughts were now coming back to him.
      Ever since he had seen Yann’s pictures, those taken when he’d been in Old Albion, he had felt that something strange was manifesting.
      One of these intriguing coincidences: the picture of a cave that Yann has been visiting looked so strikingly similar to Malvina’s Rookery… And that playful kid in the cave was probably linked to Yann.

      So, now that the painting was finished, perhaps he could have people join in the fun. All that was required was imagination…

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    • #591

      Arona sat by herself just outside the cave. It was twilight hour, in between the dark and the light. She had awoken early, with a heaviness in her heart.

      Maybe I will just sit here for ever and ever and never move again, she mused, I will turn to stone, and they will make legends up about me, the strange stone girl of Malvina’s cave.

      Buckberry the little dragon ambled over and sat quietly next to her. He had been foraging in the half light for the buckberries which grew outside the entrance to the cave, and to which he was extremely partial. Arona reached out a hand, slowly, and petted him. She felt tears begin to form somewhere in the dark space behind her eyes, was it many tears or one endless tear? she wondered. The tear started falling from her right eye first. The left eye seemed more reluctant to cry, and when eventually a little trickle started down her face, she followed its watery path with interest.

      Light will come, said the voice kindly, can you feel it?

      The tear from her left eye had caught up now, Arona noticed, and was first to dampen the waiting earth.

      Buckberry and Arona sat for quite some time, communing in companionable silence, and both knew that morning a bond was formed that would not easily be broken.


      Outside the apartment, the sky was a pale grey, with some delicate hues of more silvered clouds of smoke spewed out by the brick and concrete chimneys. Winter time was a few degrees warmer in the big city than in the countryside, on most of the scales he could think of: temperature, decibels at least,… and certainly a few others he didn’t know of.

      Yurick (or Quintin as he was still known) was spending some time at his friend Gustav ’s place, Gustav having moved a while ago from Vienna to Paris, for a new job opportunity in the gaming industry. Gustav was living for a large part in a fantasy world full of trolls, ogres, thieves, demonists and other creatures, which made his conversations always fascinating. It was like he could get his own information about some shifty aspects in consciousness, and they were translated rather undistortedly through these fantasy adventures.

      To Yurick, Paris felt almost less familiar than these other dimensional worlds, and bearably less colourful. But when he’d come back the day before, he had found not much changed, and the ambivalence he felt towards Paris wasn’t a stark dislike, as he could have felt some months before. Furthermore, as he was becoming closer to Yann, colours were coming back into his perception of that odd reality.

      And it seemed that Yurick was developing an uncanny propensity to see 23 or 53 each time he looked up at the clock. Making him wonder if that could have any use at all ;)).


        They were starting to arrive, some sneaking in quietly and unnoticed; some charging in with a flash… some appeared in familiar form (or lack of form as the case may be… there were those who arrived as a whiff in the air, or a sudden flickering in a lightbulb) but most came in disguise, cloaked in layers of colourful riddles.


          Georges and Salome’s journal

          From Salome’s account of her journey to the Murtuane

          There is a purple beach that I have seen briefly in my third eye, with a stranded people of the Murtuane. It seems like a possible focus of Georges, named… “Jarvis” I would translate.
          Georges having moved to the mountainous and icy lands of the Duane, I thought it would be entertaining to discover more about this focus before telling him about it. Though it was not what I initially in mind as per an exploration, it surely has its purpose.
          This island has in fact the size of a continent, but being in an isolated part of the Murtuane, few are those knowing of it. It fosters some interesting creatures not found in other places of the Murtuane. Jarvis is not yet aware, but he is observed by some of them. Zentauras (these black-and-white striped centaur-like creatures) are guardians of this Island, and thus do not see the arrival of one of Jarvis’ kind as a particularly good omen. What puzzle them is that he has been rescued by one of the Daughters of the Sea.

          When I connect with Jarvis, he tells that he knows this land as “Kandulim”, a fabled island from which people could easily go into another world and bring back whatever is most precious to you. It always had been a legend for him until he had opened his eyes and seen the purple beach.


          December, 21 st, 2057

          It was almost Christmas, and the Wrick Manor had been buzzing with preparation for the coming of Sean and Becky .

          Manon was diligently busy cooking, having already planned many mouth-watering dishes on her menu, like poêléed (pan-seared) foie gras on roquette fig salad, lobster in ginger and scallion soy sauce, ostrich fillets with dauphine potatoes, and loads of exotic desserts and tarts.

          Lord Wrick had told Manon that Becky was a vegetarian, but even Lord Wrick had trouble telling the cook what she should cook or not. Manon considered it a matter of rude interference upon her artistic culinary tastes, and no one was to tell her how to stir her sheep, so to speak. And secretly, she was sure that Becky would love her delicious Christmas menu.

          In the meantime, Nanny Gibbon was having India Louise and Cuthbert prepare the twinkling Christmas tree. The garlands were a bright electric blue crisscrossing the branches of the huge silver fir, dangling under the weight of shiny red balls. The children were delighted to see Granddad Sean and they could hardly keep in place, and were giggling with joy.

          This past month, with the settling down of winter, the light had been scarce, and even with knowing that all was purposeful, they’d rather create purposeful adventures in the Equatorial part of the world, where days were longer and temperatures balmier. They could almost tell that Manfred the cat was agreeing.


            Poêléed foie gras, goat tagine, roquette fig salad, sherry trifle, serrano ham, lobster in ginger…..

            Manon was going over her holiday menu and lists, wondering how on earth she would manage to cater for all tastes. What a houseful it was going to be.

            …..scallion soy sauce, steak and kidney pie, wild mushroom soup, ostrich fillets with dauphine potatoes, rhubarb crumble….

            …..Cuthbert! OY! Manon grabbed the boy as he rushed past grabbing a hot mince pie on his way to the stables.

            Here, take this with you, she said, thrusting a basket towards him, crushing the pastry he was clutching, and spilling hot mince all over his hand.

            AAArrgghh! MaNON! Cuthbert licked his burnt palm and glared at the cook.

            Manon gave him a swift slap round the back of the head and said, That’s your own bloody fault for nicking it in the first place. Go and pick the mushrooms for the soup, and some rhubarb for the crumble, and bring me some greens, too.

            Cuthbert groaned, But MaNON……..

            Bugger off and do it! Ask that Bill to help you, he just went outside, hurry and you’ll catch him.


            “ As we have stated previously, these terms are quite limiting for explanation purposes. The terminology is not incorrect, by any means. It is only expressing a much, much smaller impression to you than, in actuality, these terms represent. If your interpretation of these terms is too literal, you may find yourself accepting concepts which have only been explained to you partially; for our explanation of concepts is only a minute portion of the entirety of any idea, or concept, or “doctrine.” Only playing, my friend! These concepts must be taken in at this present time, within your present understanding, to the intellect; and the intellect must be allowed to trigger the intuition, allowing a full circle of thought, so to speak; this full circle being a continuous flow of information to assimilation, to actualization, to creation”


            Not AGAIN!! shouted Becky. For the past week every time she tried to open her blog page, it always opened on this old post of Patels. Usually, by a circuitous route, she did eventually manage to arrive on her most recent post…..but not today! That monkey Patel wouldn’t let Becky look at any other post but this.

            Funny coincidence really that she’d watched the cartoon last night called Madagascar, starrring Patel himself as King of the Lemurs. Becky had to laugh. A rave party of dancing lemurs on ecstasy!


              Linda and Peregrine’s portrait had taken a little longer than expected to realize. Quite abruptly after India’s encounter with the old wrinkled mummy, Bill Jobsworth had fallen ill. An abrupt cold he said he’d caught, that had left him stuck in his bed for a few weeks.
              He’d thought that after the stone heads and the mummy, that was good he didn’t believe in maledictions, because he would have been dead by now. India Louise had been taking care of him, to the surprise of the old Lord who, however, barely expressed more than a raised eyebrow at her incongruous request.

              That little retardation was in fact the perfect pretext for the young couple of globe-trotters to settle down in the castle, and prepare a little photographic exposition on their last trip in Eastern Africa. Though in 2057, photographic cameras were by far outdated, Linda was very fond of these old contraptions that she could use to render some of their trips with a certain kind of focus.
              She’d a custom set of specially adapted cameras that she’d enhanced with devices to free her of the burdens of storage mostly. However, they could function most like the ancient ones. Capturing light through a single lens, in a very focused time and space framework.

              She was very proud of the pictures she had taken of the Dragon’s Blood Trees in Socotra Island and the natural lighting of the scene gave a surreal feeling to it as though an actual iridescent dragon had been hovering on clouds above them.
              When she saw them, India Louise had been gaping, telling they looked exactly like what delirious Bill had depicted of his visions
              Linda was moved beyond words at how amazingly complex and delicately beautiful this reality was…


              I wonder how delightful it may feel to become one with that butterfly, mused Franiel, his attention diverted from the job at hand as he followed the dance of a delicate white butterfly. He closed his eyes for a moment and merged with the creature, how free ! He sighed, trying somewhat reluctantly to pull himself back. Franiel had been sat there for quite some time now, supposedly engaged in the task of writing a short poem of 3 stanzas for Hrih, the Old One.

              Of course there was no pressure. Yet in his desire to please, Franiel felt it as such. In his dreams of the previous night Hrih had visited him. He had offered Franiel a golden crown, a silver goblet filled with sweet nectar, and a jewelled sword. Choose! commanded Hrih. Franiel had chosen the goblet and drank thirstily from it, and yet he had felt that Hrih was not pleased with his choice, and upon wakening Franiel had felt a strange uneasiness.

              Franiel had not been trained in the way of the pen, and he knew his words would be clumsy. He had been raised in a poor home, where words were not considered to be of much value other than to instruct him in his tasks, or berate him when those tasks were not completed. Being a dreamy child, this had often been the case.

              He wished he could harness the power of words and use them to soothe and caress, to create beauty even, he thought, gently running his finger over the plain wooden table where he was seated.

              Well for now he would not worry what form his words should take, for it was enough of a task even to know what his highest truth might be!

              My highest truth .. my highest truth, … how many times now had he said these words, hoping perhaps if he repeated them enough the gods might take pity on his for his ignorance and provide an answer. How could he possibly know his highest truth? The very concept of such a thing perplexed him.

              Day was turning into night before Franiel finally laid down his pen. In the end his words were simple. He sighed, saddened by the thought that they would surely be a disappointment. The best I can hope for is that the Old One will see these words as nothing more than a doorway to my soul. Hrih was wise, Franiel knew this, and trusted the decision of the Old One.

              It was in the hands of the gods, for surely if I can’t trust this at least, all my fine talk and learning is for nothing.

              I am the driftwood
              the wave carried me
              I was buried in sand

              I am the flower
              the butterfly touched me
              I fell in love

              I am the raindrop
              the cloud released me
              I became the ocean


              A feeling of disappointment.
              A feeling of hatred… Sam didn’t really know where it was coming from, but he was feeling it. It was a pooling of energies, not necessarily linked to anyone in particular. Like holding to old habits and old clothes though they needed to be changed.

              Sam decided to create something he hadn’t for quite some time. Some fever and reconfiguration of his digestive process.

              For him, it was a way of expression through his body. It was not a dysfunction as it was expressing freely the energy. Nothing was to be feared or opposed.
              He focused deeply on himself and began to feel this low vibrating sound in his belly. And his body began its shifting.


              Lucio was swimming with ease in the marble pool of the villa. His brother was speaking with the trees again and he had no interest in that himself. The water upon his body was offering enough interactions at that moment. In order to swim swiftly this morning he had reshaped his body to a slender and tall body. His short hair was moss green today and quite fitting in the sky blue water. A lemur was swimming alongside with him like it was challenging him in some way.
              He felt his brother’s energy field expand and ripple through the water. A big watery splash was the indication he had joined Lucio in this aquatic amusement.

              Though they were identical twins, they also had the ability to alter their physical shape slightly. Mostly their hair and size, and also their faces. Today they were identical again, except for their size as Lucio had increased it, and their hair. Adrian was bald today, his perfectly round skull was appearing almost shiny in the afternoon sun. He winked at his brother with a big grin and dived under the wavy surface.


                Georges and Salome’s journal

                From Georges’ account of his arrival in Tur.

                There is a strong energy concentration on some part of this planet called the Duane. I’m not yet familiarized with the geography of this world, but it seems to be a starry Island on the northern territories. The island is inhabited by a particular race that call themselves the Guardians. It seems that they are the only remnants of their previously flourishing civilization, most of them have migrated to another planet of the triplanetary system. The energy concentration is acting like a magnet, tuned to the other 2 planets, the Murtuane and the Phrëal. Maybe helping maintain the 3 of them in that particular triangle like alignment around Alienor.

                The source of energy is coming from a giant crystal ball in their main City and is kept active by the Guardians. I’m wondering if they are responsible for the particular planetary aspect of this world. They are aware of other dimensions and other realities. But they are keeping these information for themselves. Planetary travels are not allowed for the other races apparently and they are not willing to exchange with other dimensional beings. I’ll have to play smoothly to gain their trust and get known. Apparently the body I chose for this first contact with this world is similar to one of their Jokan or higher ranked guardians. Maybe that will be of help.

                There are twelve of them, and I think the 12 Jokan are directly connected with the 12 essence families of this dimension. Usually there are 4 of them present on each of the 3 worlds. But again that is information that is hidden to the other people of the Duane. I’m not sure about the other planets yet but it seems different.


                  Albert the mosquito was playing with a gigantic creature to the hide and seek game.
                  He was quite a daredevil mosquito and had managed to survive for several days in the same space arrangement.

                  He was close to the fulfillment of his intent and ready to move to other areas, but still in this reality… maybe he would choose some other species as he was incorporating some Praying Mantis aspects for a few days now.


                    Sam was feeling like a human being shaped balloon… not in rubber, but more in some waterproof material… with holes in his hands and his feet…
                    It was like him as essence was blowing the air into the puppet to give it more or less consistency, more or less presence.
                    At times his action would not be on the blowing into the bodily structure but on the looking of its canvas, its blueprint… the puppet would appear slack or flabby.
                    At times his action would be the blowing into the structure, and how he would insufflate the air into the structure, how he would direct it through the canvas would create different actions, different movements of this energy pattern, some wavy, some more rigid, and some pulsing.

                    He currently felt he was trying to block the air from coming out of the puppet clothing… blocking the flow of the attention, of the energy into something absolute… he felt he was doing that to understand what he could create in doing it. It was not a continuous action and not something he wanted to make last much longer. Only the understanding of the movement of the air through his body was interesting him.

                    He just breathed in and out and decided to do something different. He had what he wanted of it now.

                    There was a click in his right ear, and he could feel his attention and his energy movement beginning to shift. :recycle:


                      Yann stroke Arona, lost in his thoughts. He’d spent the last few days with Yurick at Gustav’s place. He’d met Gustav a few days ago, when Yurick came to Paris with him. Gustav was a very sympathetic and fun fellow, his energy felt very soft to Yann and quite sensitive though he could appear a bit rough to others. Gustav was kind enough to let Yann sleep one night at his house when he was still there, before his holidays with his parents before Christmas and friends after Christmas. It was the occasion to eventually be with Yurick.

                      The life together was a bit different from what he would have normally expected… before. Now it was just a new experience, the interaction was different, and the configuration of energy could be a bit tricky.

                      Yann had noticed that in his perception even if an aspect of his attention was focused on the physical place and that he was physically seeing other individuals and objects in the official room, his main attention was elsewhere… he was beginning to be able to let more of this periphery to bleedthrough in his official reality, and he was well aware that the interactions weren’t always what they appeared to be. He first had the reflex to filter it through his usual associations and what he knew of this reality… but often enough he had that twinge about it like it wasn’t really fitting… it wasn’t fitting at all, he was trying to mold it into another shape, a familiar and distorted shape, so to speak. Ok, that was acceptable, and most of the time his attention and his movement was toward Yurick’s energy.

                      Yurick was creating some weird stuffs in with his mouth… some itching and uncomfortable pain… it was a bit weird because of the familiar associations with it… associations with pain, illness, preoccupations, caring, even self worth… but most of all it was showing Yann about the automatic movement “outside” of self, and not being present in what himself was doing.

                      Yann had noticed that most of the time when he was in what he was doing there was that warm expansion feeling in his belly… but still there was that location association with it… and the association that Yurick was outside and the room was outside and then at times it was fading and there was not much separation within energy.

                      And he just noticed that no separation didn’t necessarily mean continuity :-?

                      Ok, again this Owl music of the Harry Potter series… the “scum of the universe” connection was a bit hidden by this music now, but it was still in his periphery. And something he wanted to explore. A feeling of space travel and of mercenaries… that reminded him of the video games he was playing when he was a kid. There was always a time when he was fascinated by the “bad guys”, the pirates. Haha, maybe a pie rat would do as a dessert.

                      He would soon come back “home”. He had that DVD of the pilots of a series about space travels that he liked a lot… Yurick had told him about it 2 days ago, he had never seen it.


                      Sam decided to organize a party in a slightly sidewayed region of RA1. He was busy setting the inner landscape, the traps and the different attractions…
                      He asked Becky if she could take care of the dream or meditation triggers like the famous yurt of Rafaela. They’ll need lots of them to offer entrances to their friends .

                      Sam just sent a message to Al and Tina so they could do whatever they wanted to add some fun or drama to this little party.

                      F LoveF Love

                        Tina was puzzling over the garbled communication from Sam. Sam was very skilled with his telepathic communciation but Tina still found it a little hard to accurately interpret some of the messages. She was getting a feeling of fun energy and strange images of Sam doing a crazy dance.

                        She focused and tried to mentally message him in response, Sam, what are you saying? I can’t quite make it out?

                        Oh bugger this! It would be much easier just to call him, thought Tina, picking up the phone.


                          The blue phone rang with a joyful tinckling sound. Sam knew it was Tina, he was connecting with her and fussing the communication a bit… it was like she was tickling him through his yellow energy center and when he picked up the phone he was having difficulties not laughing loud.

                          “Hey Tina I’m glad you got the energy…”

                          “Well, I can’t say it was very clear… you can do better, she said matter-of-factly. I was hesitating between you having epilepsy or you being attacked by an ant colony…”

                          “Hehehe, well I have not yet a clear idea about what I want to do… I just feel it could be great to gather friends in a big soup party.”

                          “Mmmm, I don’t like soup. Can I bring my raft to float upon? I’ll render it soupproof.”

                          “Hahaha, yes you can bring whatever suits you. I’m wondering if you’d enjoy some cheesy garlands?”

                          Tina snorted thoughtfully.

                          “As long as the smell doesn’t stick to our clothes or our energy… Is there such thing as a smelly energy?”


                          I can feel a human focus on this Island said the aspect of Yuki that was focused near Anita.

                          The little girl was sleeping for the moment and her dream focus, though still close to them, was not paying attention to her friends. She was entertaining herself with the dream focuses of her parents, telling them about all that she had been doing with her friends. They themselves were not yet choosing to disengage in this particular probable reality but they were in a kind of transition “place”, removed from their bodies for a lengthy time framework. They had built a similar environment to their home and were acting “as usual”.

                          It is a focus of Blöhmul that is not yet aware of our presence here though an aspect of this focus is… I feel it is not a singular focus in a way that is quite original

                          Rafaela and Armelle were merged consistently at that time and were creating a strange owly goat or a goaty owl depending on the angle of aspect you were looking at or from.

                          Yes it is quite a messy focus, it is generating of new ways of explorations… I’m exploring it from now on said the goaty owl / owly goat.

                          The energy was moving and creating new connections. That focus and Anita were already connecting to each other, a strong thread of energy had been attracting them to each other… The four essences began to move in a facilitating of this attraction, merging together in a marmoset, close to the “binary” focus… Surely the dog like aspect of this focus would be intrigued by the marmoset and would want to follow it… to the little Anita.


                            — So he wants us to paddle down a river of pea-soup, is that it, sweetie?
                            Al was asking Tina, while playing with his teeth and gums…

                            — Oh, I don’t have any clue really, sighed Tina who began to feel annoyed by Al’s constant fiddling with his mouth.
                            — Well, not to worry then, except I’ve got focuses dead from poisoned pea-soup as far as I remember, so I am not overly enthusiastic about the whole pea-soup adventure… Better make it some more fluid…
                            — And will you tell me what you’re doing now with that mouth of yours Albert? Last time that was the hair, then the nails… it seems you can’t get enough of these explorations of your body consciousness, can you? Tsss… Tumold aligned people…
                            — Oh, this is fascinating, can’t you see, how fluid this all area is, despite the appearances.
                            — If you say so…
                            — Look!
                            — Oh now, you’re being gross! Tina was positively appalled by Al’s behaviour
                            — Oh, it’s funny, look… I can make my gums as malleable as marshmallow, and have my teeth float on that gum-soup…
                            — Entirely fascinating… And I can also grow some new ones, what would you say of pointy teeth like cannibals?
                            — Oh, come on, Tina was now no longer impressed… Have fun as you want, I’m going for a walk to help Becky buy her wedding dress… She wants something that looks “tribal” she said…

                            Tina went outside shrugging at the toothy grin Al gave her.


                            All he remembered was the name “Akita”… He was not sure that it was his name, perhaps it was not, but he had taken it as his own.
                            He’d been stranded on that island for so long he barely remembered whether he’d had a past before. In the beginning, he had taken an inventory of the passing time, but soon had discovered that days were irregularly long, and nights would sometimes last for more than one day, so that it was all pointless…
                            The toughest part had been to live in good intelligence —he couldn’t really say harmony— with the predatory hairy nest of the daughters of Narani. But at least he’d made clear that he was able to defend himself and retaliate if needed…

                            — Thanks to me, grunted a big dog half-focused, his head on his lap.
                            — Yeah, mostly thanks to you, Kay

                            Kay had appeared a few days after Akita discovered himself on that strange land. He was no common dog… In fact, Akita was wondering that it may only exist in his mind. Kay had been approaching him, more than he had tamed it, and soon Akita found out that he was no dog at all.
                            He was, as Kay had said, an inugami or dog spirit, able to shape-shift, and willing to bond with Akita. He’s said Akita his previous owner had died, and that he would have to die with him unless being adopted by another…
                            Akita had been reluctant at first, finding that there was something unclear, but he had agreed anyway… Better be with a faithful and powerful dog-spirit than die in the webs of the giant spiders…
                            All he had to do was to name it. And so he named it Kay.
                            Kay couldn’t be seen by most of the creatures in the forest, though the most sensitive could feel his presence. However, he could decide to take a more corporeal form, but that exhausted both Akira and Kay, and was rarely done. So most of the times, he was roaming the island in spirit form, which didn’t mean that he was powerless, far from it.

                            — I can sense something’s coming, growled Kay who took the shape of a big two-legged werewolf…

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